42. Kai
Kai
There is only her.
Still alive.
She barely gives her dead brother a glance before she sprints over to me, falling to her knees by my side.
So pretty.
So fucking pretty.
Pain sears through my shoulder and my thigh. But pain is an old friend.
“Kai,” she cries. “Kai, I’m sorry.”
Why does she keep crying? Why does she keep apologising?
Trying to lift my arm to wipe her tears makes my vision blur, and my arm drops heavily back to the ground.
We are going to die. All of us. That much is clear.
Roxy doesn’t understand the gravity the man behind her holds, as he strides through the building, men following behind him. She doesn’t know her brothers were just a distraction . The real enemy was just hiding. Waiting for the time to strike.
Now is the time.
Zeke’s dark eyes scan the room. His face is neutral, but there’s a satisfied spark in his eyes. holding all the cards, and he knows it.
Ash reaches for his gun, taking aim at Zeke, whose men respond in kind, guns pointed at Ash. A fucking stand off. Jesus fuck.
“Ash,” Zeke chastises, shaking his head. His immaculate suit looks completely out of place with the grime and blood and dead bodies. “Is that how you welcome back an old friend?”
“What do you want?” Ash growls.
I blink slowly up at Roxy, who is ignoring what’s happening around her, desperately trying to stop the bleeding and pressing her palms over the bullet wound on my shoulder. Tears are constant, sliding down her cheeks.
Turning my eyes to Zeke, the whole room spins with it.
“Oh, there are many things I want,” he murmurs, eyes flicking over to Roxy. “Firstly, a thank you for saving this sweet thing.”
My lip curls, making Zeke smirk.
“Secondly, I want my fucking club back.” He looks around the room at the dead Wraiths with disgust. “Seems like some little delinquents have taken it upon themselves to... look after it, while I was gone.”
Finally, Zeke acknowledges the ones still standing, staring at him as if they’ve seen a ghost. The same men who were cheering Jacob on less than an hour ago, now watch him for orders. Cowards.
“You boys have been busy while I’ve been away.”
Zeke pulls a face at Isaac’s dead body.
“Declaring me dead,” he murmurs, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Choosing yourselves a new president. Terrorising our little friends over here. Stealing from them and everything... How brave.”
His grin is back on Ash.
Ash’s grip tightens around his gun, body taut with the need to press down on the trigger.
Unbothered, Zeke slides his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t need a weapon when he’s got weapons behind him.
“You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I’m going to do to you, Ash,” Zeke hums, taking lazy steps on the concrete. “How I should kill you and yours. I got pretty creative there in the end.”
“Spit it out, Zeke,” Ash growls. “You’re fucking need for dramatics is getting old.”
Zeke huffs a laugh.
“I want my club back. My territory...” Zeke spins, lifting his hand as if he’s just thought of something. “And your port!”
Ash gives him nothing.
“It’s okay,” Roxy whispers, pressing harder against my shoulder. “It’s okay. We are going to fix this.”
I almost laugh.
Surrounded by Wraiths, kneeling in my blood, trying to reassure me. Me.
“I can’t lose you,” she murmurs, looking into my eyes. “Please don’t fucking die.”
“You should probably get him out of here, sweetheart,” Zeke croons.
Roxy’s eyes ignite with fire. The part of her that burns with enough wrath to bring a city down. The part that she rarely sets free.
“Don’t fucking sweetheart me,” she growls.
My skin erupts in goosebumps at the rasp and power in her voice. If I had enough blood, it would be running south and tenting my fucking pants.
Zeke looks entertained enough not to take offence.
“Fair enough.”
Zeke looks around the room one last time. “Well, it’s been nice, but I best be off. President things and all that...” His hand waves dismissively, and he turns around.
The Wraiths open up for him, parting as he turns his back to leave.
I watch, waiting for him to turn and order his men to spray us with bullets. To torture us or continue playing this weird game.
“The fuck, Zeke?” Ash grits out.
Zeke turns over his shoulder. The way he is acting, so damn casual, has tension oozing through the air.
“I could kill you now,” he murmurs, shrugging. “And some ambitious Devil will take your place. They’ll fight for the port. They’ll fight for the territory. Today, I’m taking it because I can and you’ll let me. Tomorrow, who knows? I might come for your club... I might not.”
He shrugs again.
“You’re alive because I want you alive, Ash.” Zeke’s voice loses every trace of humour and amusement. “And when I want you dead, I’ll have ruined you and yours so thoroughly, you’ll be on your hands and knees, begging me to pull the trigger.”
My eyes close. Just for a second.
We aren’t dying. Not tonight. But maybe that’s worse. Because Zeke has an endless supply of resources. He has an army. And now... he has our main source of income and suppy.
His got his hand wrapped around our throats. He knows it, and more importantly, he wants us to know it too.
Killing Ash would be too easy for him. Too quick and painless. Zeke wants him alive to see everything he built crumble around him. To watch his Devils go to ruin, and not be able to do a single thing about it. Piece by fucking piece until there’s nothing left.
Death would be a mercy.
With that, he turns and leaves. The Wraith’s wait before piling out behind him. And in seconds, it’s just us.
Some injured Devils surrounded by death and the most putrid-smelling building in existence.
Ash hasn’t moved. With his gun still pointed at the empty exit, his body is so tight it’s vibrating.
Xavier cuts Kaleb free, who tries to get to his feet but stumbles back to the ground.
“Someone call a doctor,” Roxy cries. “Please!”
With all the strength I can muster, I bring my hand to the side of her face, cupping the blood and tear-soaked skin with my rough hand.
She’s warm and real. The most perfect thing I’ve ever seen. She nuzzles my palm, crying softly into it.
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpers over and over again.
The world dips in and out, but I think I can hear motorbikes closing in. No, not hear. Feel. The ground beneath me rumbles.
My body threatens to pull consciousness out from underneath me. But I didn’t go through everything I have, just to pass out when I finally have her back. I’m not wasting a second with my eyes closed.
Kaleb falls to his knees on my other side, assessing my injuries. Ripping his shirt off, he presses down on the bullet wound in my thigh.
“Don’t shut your fucking eyes,” he murmurs, pushing roughly on my leg.
I hiss through my teeth at the pain that flares through me.
I wouldn’t dream of it.