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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CARMEN
Cyrus hauls me out of the greenhouse, trying to keep my head positioned forward. I’m not sure if I think staring will help me realize this is real or what, but I can’t seem to make myself turn away. All the way through the aisle and out the door, my eyes stay locked on the bodies until Cyrus closes the door behind us and uses his body as a shield between me and them.
“Carmen,” he says lowly, rubbing both his hands up and down my arms.
The rain beats down on me as I try to think of something to say. I want to reply. I’m not sure what I would say, honestly, but I feel hearing my voice—something more than a scream—would help ease his tension. Only, I can’t. The moment I look down and see the raindrops mixing with the blood and running down my body, my mouth opens, and bile crawls up the back of my throat, burning my esophagus.
I rush backward quickly, then bend at the waist and let it come up. My stomach heaves and cramps with each gag, and as soon as I think I’m done, the feeling of blood all over me has me doubled over again.
“Get it off me!” I scream through gasping breaths as Cyrus gathers my hair in his hands.
He rubs my back, but I don’t need comfort right now. “Get it off me!” I scream again.
My stomach calms just long enough for me to turn around and start clawing at my face. I just need it off. The rain, the blood. I don’t even know which is which anymore. It’s like my body is working without my mind and has entered panic mode.
“Okay, okay,” he chants, grabbing the back of his shirt by the collar and pulling it over his head.
He balls the fabric up and grabs one of my hands. He wipes it vigorously, spending a split second on each finger, then moves to my palm. He does the same with the other, then moves to my face.
My insides feel like they’re shaking, and my skin switches from being too hot to too cold while my breathing becomes almost nonexistent. I shift my weight on my feet as he continues trying to clean the blood from my body, trying to remain as calm as possible, but it’s useless.
“They’re dead,” I pant like it’s finally sinking in.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay, Carmen.” I can barely hear him, but even then, the uncertainty in his tone is evident.
I close my eyes. “They’re dead,” I repeat.
He drops his shirt and wraps his arms around me, then pulls me back into his chest. His skin is hot against my cheek, and his arms are tight around me. “Shhh,” he soothes, running his fingertips up and down my back.
This is something he’s used to. Death, blood, violence, fucked-up secrets. It’s all in his job description, so it isn’t surprising how calm he is. I breathe in the smell of his skin and wrap my arms around his waist, trying to steal some of his composure.
“I know this is hard, Carmen, but I need to get this cleaned up so we can leave. Go wait in the car.”
I suck in one last breath and blow it out slowly while squeezing my eyes together, then pull away. “No. This can’t be swept under the rug like some job. It’s what got us into this position in the first place.”
He tips his head and hunches down so he can look me in the eye. “I can’t risk either of us getting locked up, so you need to let me handle this.”
I shake my head and swallow a hiccup that tries to escape, then square my shoulders, hoping I give the impression of confidence. The rain falling helps with concealing my tears, so I try to level my voice and speak as calmly as I can. “Give me the gun.”
He shakes his head, but I don’t let him speak. Of course things didn’t pan out the way we wanted, but there is still a way to end it. Alexander is Ghost, and he’s dead along with his right-hand man and William—my real dad—so there is no better opportunity than now to come clean—or at least tell half the truth. All of the secrets end tonight.
“Let me do this. Please,” I beg, biting my lip to hide its quiver.
He stares at me, pain painting his features.
“I just need you to run. Go as far away as you can, don’t look back, and don’t contact me.” My heart throbs and beats against my rib cage. It takes everything in me not to grip my chest to ease it. I can’t let him know this is hurting me more than it’s probably hurting him.
For so long, all I’ve wanted was to be important to someone, and Cyrus gave me that. He chased me when no one else would. He showed me I wasn’t alone in this messed-up world and made me feel valid in all my crazy feelings. But here I am, asking him to leave—asking him to do the very thing I never wanted him to do, but I can’t let him go down for this.
“Carmen—”
I hold up my hand. “Stop. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I have a better chance of getting away with this than you, so leave. I’m begging you.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“If you don’t, all of this will be for nothing. We can’t just clean it up and hope for the best. Alexander had a life. People will know something isn’t right.”
