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“I’M NOT FUCKING LYING!” Darien bellowed, the words ripping through the night. He faced Malakai. “Malakai, look at her! She’s practically dead on her feet. I need to get her to a hospital. Please. If you’re willing to help me, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
“What about all the other promises you made?”
“I know,” Darien squeezed out. He couldn’t breathe. “I know, alright? I’ve been a shitty friend, okay? Just give me a chance to talk—”
“We’re not fucking friends,” Malakai spat. “You’re not a friend. Friends don’t lie, Darien.”
“Malakai, please.” The words were soft. Pleading. “I love her. I love her more than anything.”
“And she’s more important than my fucking sister? You expect me to step aside and just let you walk away?”
“If Loren could help Jewels without it costing her life, I would ask her to do it in a heartbeat, I swear it. But that’s not the case. Didn’t you see, Malakai? Didn’t you see how I tried to stop her from saving me?” Darien jabbed a finger into his own chest. “ME!” he roared, the word shredding his throat. “I tried to stop her to prevent this!” He gestured to Loren, who nearly fell over, gripping his arm tighter. Her eyelids were slipping shut, her cheek pressed against his upper arm.
There was a flicker in the Reaper’s features. The kind of flicker that told Darien he was making sense, that Malakai might be realizing he was telling the truth.
Darien took the moment and ran with it, words flying desperately from his mouth. “Malakai, please understand. I need to save her. I need to save her.” His voice shifted into a sob. “I need her. More than I need air. I can’t live without her. Please. Just let me get her to a hospital.”
The rage on Malakai’s face softened, but it wasn’t enough.
Still, Darien tried, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Please.”
Malakai drew a gun of his own. Took aim.
“Oh god.” Darien’s words were coated with defeat. He didn’t want to have to do this, didn’t want to have to fight them, and he feared he was outnumbered, his body too spent for any more conflict. The magic inside him wasn’t there; it felt like a great void had swallowed it up, and he couldn’t even summon his Sight. The only weapons he had left were empty, ammunition used up.
And Malakai’s gun was pointing right at his head.
“Malakai, please.”
“Kill him!” Brodie bellowed, the words like the crack of bullets in the night. “Kill him and let’s take the girl, Malakai!” Soon, his brother was shouting too, goading Malakai on.
Darien shook his head, eyes on Malakai. “Please,” he mouthed.
Malakai took the safety off his gun. “Fuck you, Darien,” he gritted out. Darien saw the intent in his eyes, and he knew this was it.
One last time, he tried, “Malakai—”
Bang. Bang. Two shots rang through the night.
Darien’s ears rang.
His head spun as he tried to make sense of what happened.
Two bodies fell.
Darien held his breath. Looked around, vision spinning.
Brodie and Macen had fallen. Their guns clattered to the ground. Blood seeped from bullet wounds, spreading into puddles that trickled into cracks in the sidewalk.
Malakai glared. Threw his gun aside, where it clattered in the middle of the road. Pointed a finger in Darien’s face. “And fuck you again for making me choose!”
“Oh my god.” Relief weakened Darien’s muscles. He sank to his knees, drawing Loren down with him. He hugged her tight as he rocked back and forth, sobbing silently, his fingers buried in her soft hair, her head lolling against his shoulder.
“Darien.” The name floated off Loren’s lips in the weakest whisper.
There was something off about it. Something that put Darien on edge. Something that had him attempting to lift her head from his shoulder so he could read her face.
Something that had Malakai glancing at Darien with stark fear.
