“Mako, stop,” I beg.
I try to harness my own gold, but I can’t get into Mako’s head. Hawkins has full control.
He chuckles at me. “Doesn’t work that way, Wren. You know that. I’ve already got him.”
I’ve never felt more helpless as I watch Mako walk by. He’s nearing the edge of the bluff.
“Stop!” I glare at Hawkins.
He ignores me. “Mako,” he calls out, “I really do like you, buddy, but you’re going to have to jump now.”
“Mako!” I shout. “Don’t you dare!”
His back is to me, and I see his shoulders shaking with exertion. He twists his head toward me, slowly, like he can barely move it, and my heart hurts when I see his blank expression.
“Jump,” Hawkins tells him.
Dread widens my eyes when Mako’s boots move toward the edge of the cliff.
Oh my God.
Fuck this.
Let Hawkins shoot me.
I dive toward Mako, my pulse screaming in my ears.
“Jump,” Hawkins commands.
“No!” I scream.
I lunge at my friend, trying to grab him, to pull him back, to save him. Hope explodes inside me when my hand connects with the back of his shirt. I feel the fabric whisper over my fingertips, but I’m not fast enough.
I cry out as Mako topples over the edge.
Chapter 59
My breath comes out in sharp pants. I stare at my hand, amazed that I’m not holding on to Mako right now. My emotions are in my throat. Horror and panic and a sense of loss I haven’t felt since the day Uncle Jim died. A crushing grief.
I scramble on my hands and knees toward the edge, peering over, but all I see are shadows and rocks. There’s a dark lump far below that might be Mako, but I can’t tell in the darkness. The memory of his vacant expression right before he jumped flashes through my brain.
“Mako!” I shout. “Mako, answer me!”
The silence is deafening.
My fingernails dig into the rocky edge as I continue to search the darkness. Where is he?
“Mako!”
“Get up,” Hawkins snaps from behind me.
I’m fighting my tears, sucking in ragged breaths. My legs shake so wildly it’s difficult to stand. I fall for a second, the weight of loss making it impossible to stay upright.
I hear his footsteps. Self-preservation would usually kick in by now. I should be attacking him, but the shock roots me in place. Mako…damn it…Mako.
I couldn’t save him. Why didn’t I move faster? Why did I let a goddamn gun stop me from saving my friend? The guilt rips into me like a predator tearing into a carcass.
“You fucking bastard,” I whisper, tilting my head toward Hawkins. He’s only six feet away now.
