I sit there frozen in place as the guards strap Seven to the metal operating table, my chest burning with an indescribable agony. My world is crumbling around me, and there’s nothing I can do—nothing.I try to cry out, to let him know I’m here—but my voice is stuck somewhere down my throat, my heart in my mouth.
A third person enters the room with an IV cart, not bothering to look at Seven as they hang a saline bag on the pole. Seven winces as they pierce his skin with the needle, baring his teeth in a snarl as he thrashes on the table. Despite his efforts, the technician is able to start an IV line. He hooks it up to the saline, then grabs three vials out of his cart.
I hold my hand over my mouth, wanting to look away, yet unable to do so as they inject the first of the three medications.The next two follow in quick succession, and the technician retreats from the room, leaving Seven alone with the two guards.
“Seven!” I lean forward to pound on the glass. “Seven, no!” Tears run down my face as his eyelids lower, and his chest ceases to rise. He doesn’t move, doesn’t react—and I realize with a cold certainty that he is dead.
“No!” I cry, banging on the glass with my fists. “No!”
I fall to the floor on my knees, unable to keep upright as powerful sobs wrack my body. I wrap my arms around my torso, rocking back and forth as my mind shatters along with my heart—leaving me horribly cold and numb.
I don't know how long I sit there like that, but at some point, an elderly man in a janitor's uniform comes in to clean the room. He places a hand on my shoulder, vaguely alerting me to his presence.
“Miss… you need to leave. Miss? Can you hear me?”
“He’s gone…” I stare unblinking at a small crack in the ceiling. “Viktor… he was supposed to save him. Hepromised.Sevenpromised.” A single tear slides down my swollen face, but I can’t bring myself to care that I’m crying in front of this stranger. I’m too broken to care about anything.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to just sit there. You need to leave.”
I nod, slowly pushing myself off the floor. I hold the wall for support for the first few steps, and when I can feel my legs again, I begin stumbling toward the exit.
As soon as I step outside, the sky cracks with lightning. Streaks of raw power zip across the dark gray clouds, and a roaring thunder fills my ears, yet it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing in my mind, my soul. When I watched Seven die, something inside me broke—and I don’t know if it can ever be fixed.
With nothing else to do, I pull my hood up and walk in the direction of my apartment. It’s highly dangerous at this time of day, and I’m definitely going to get caught in the worst of the storm, but I really don’t want to interact with another human being right now. Not Viktor, not Saffron, and especially not a random cab driver.
I’m halfway home when rain begins falling from the angry clouds—fine drops of dew that turn to thick sheets of water that make it impossible to see more than two feet in front of me.
Despite the atrocious conditions, I trudge on, too numb to notice my teeth chattering or the fact that I can’t seem to stretch my hands from their claw-like position.
Several times during my journey, I wonder if it’s really worth it. I debate simply giving up, lying down on the side of the road, and falling into a deep, dark slumber. But then I remember Seven, and how he made her feel. How he wanted me tolive.
And so, I keep going.
An hour or so later, I stumble through the door of my apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind me as I move in the direction of the bathroom, leaving a trail of rainwater in my wake. My clothes are soaked, my body covered in goose bumps, and no matter how I try, I can’t get my teeth to stop that horrible chattering. My hands are tinged an angry red color, and it physically hurts to move them—but it’s nothing compared to the agony ripping at the threads of my heart.
I stop with my fist wrapped around the handle of the bedroom door, my mind flashing with memories of Seven. Him sitting on my bed, watching me. Him touching me, loving me, taking me.
As much as I wish I could have one more night with my masked stalker, I know that will never happen again. And so, choking back my sob, I push the door open, knowing I have to face the emptiness sooner or later.
Only, when I step inside, I’m greeted by the sight of a man standing in the middle of my bedroom. He’s tall and incredibly muscular, dressed in tactical gear with an unmistakable mask strapped to his face.
I can’t believe my eyes, yet there he is. The scourge of Moriton. The unhinged beast in a bloodred mask. My monster.
“Seven…”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SEVEN
Grace dropsher purse as she rushes toward me, and I have just enough time to rip off my mask before she leaps through the air, throwing her entire weight against me. She wraps her arms around my neck, her feet hanging off the ground as she buries her face deep into the crook of my shoulder. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I hold her aloft, using my free hand to reach up and cup the back of her neck as shuddering sobs wrack her body.
“You… I can’t believe you’re here… I thought—thought that I was going to lose you.”
“Shh. It’s okay, angel. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Never again.” I hold her tight, pressing my lips to the top of her head. I breathe in deep, closing my eyes as Grace’s intoxicating scent fills me, completes me. “They cannot take me away from you. Nothing ever could.”
A few minutes later, Grace begins to settle, her sobs subsiding—and the fist clenching my heart loosens. “That’s it. Just breathe.”
I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. When I pull away, I find Grace gazing up with wide, red-rimmed eyes. It’s hard to believe that someone so good, so wonderful would be sobroken up about my potential death—but Grace seems so utterly sincere, I can’t deny it.She cares about me.
