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I couldn’t even talk, I was so stunned. All I could do was think.
Win, Magnus.
I could only stare at the sky, look at the stars that watched me fade away. The sounds of fighting were right next to me, Napoleon and Magnus both grunting and crawling in the dirt, fighting to be the victor.
I couldn’t watch.
Come on, brother.
I couldn’t watch my brother die.
My faith had died the night my mother was killed. But in that moment, I prayed. Not to God, but to her. Mom, please. Help him.
My brother’s victory scream tore through the air. “Die, motherfucker!” He slammed something down on Napoleon over and over again, grunting with every hit, blood spraying everywhere.
I closed my eyes in relief, knowing she was still here. Thank you.
Magnus took a few deep breaths before he crawled to me, his face appearing in my vision, caked in blood that wasn’t his. “Fender!” His eyes shifted to the knife that was still stuck inside me. “I’m here.” His eyes lingered on the knife for a long time, his eyes falling in pain. “You’re going to be alright…” His look gave him away like it always did. He looked over his shoulder and shouted for help. “I need a medic! Satellite phone! Get over here!”
I knew my fate before he said a word.
But at least it was me and not him.
I could live with that.
I could die with that.
I shifted my gaze away from his voice and looked at the night sky. There were sounds of distant fighting, the gunshots becoming fewer and further in between. I knew we’d won the battle without having to see it myself. The stars shone down on me, ready to claim my soul and deliver it where it belonged.
It was stupid to hope I would end up anywhere besides hell, but I hoped I would see my mother again. “No, I’m not going to be alright.” I looked at my brother again, watching him do his best to remain as calm as possible, to bottle his true emotions as well as he could. “But thanks for lying.”
Magnus pulled his shirt over his head then grabbed the hilt of the knife. Without preamble, he yanked it out.
I immediately gasped in pain, feeling everything now that the adrenaline was gone.
“I need a few guys. Now!” He wrapped the shirt around my wound and applied pressure. “Fender, you can get through this. I need you to stay with me, alright?” Uncontrollable tears formed in his eyes, the distress inching into his features when he realized how deep the knife went. He breathed harder and harder, forced to watch me die, the blood dripping past his palms because there was nothing he could do to stop it.
I wished I were already dead so he wouldn’t have to go through this. “Magnus.”
He ignored me and took the bandages from the medic to apply to my stomach, shouting out orders. “Call our pilot. Tell him to bring the chopper now. Fender needs to get to the hospital.”
Men stepped away to follow his orders.
There was no reason I should still be alive right now. The knife had been ten inches. It stabbed me all the way through, sliced through the organs in the way, the internal bleeding worse than the external wound.
But I knew why I was still there.
She kept me there—so I could say goodbye.
My voice came again, weaker. “Magnus.”
Magnus wouldn’t look at me. He couldn’t. He knew this was it, but he couldn’t face it.
I didn’t have much time. I was growing weaker by the second. I placed my hand on his, soaking his hand with my blood. “I deserve this.”
He shook his head, still not looking at me, sniffing back the tears that emerged. “Stop it.”
“You know I deserve this. The girls are free, and I’ll be dead. That’s how it should be.”
His bottom lip trembled as the tears streaked down his cheeks. “You aren’t going to die! Stop it!”
I squeezed his hand. “Brother.”
He breathed harder and harder, the pain too difficult to face. “Please don’t…”
“Look at me.”
He wouldn’t.
“Magnus.”
Finally, he did. Eyes identical to mine pierced into my soul. His emotions rose, his eyes wet and reflecting the light of the torches around us. His hand remained pressed to my wound as he continued to try to save me, even though it was pointless.
He knew it.
I knew it.
I gripped his hand, prepared to say my last words. “You were the man I could never be but always wanted to be. You said I was the one you looked up to, but it was always the other way around. You’re a good brother…and I love you.” I’d never said those words to him in our lifetime, except when we were little boys, but I said them now.
He breathed through his tears, his features mushed together in anguish. “I love you, brother.”
