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I want to say her name, but nothing works. I can't even part my lips.
I put everything I have into moving my arm to reach for her. To feel her warmth against my skin. To know that she's really here.
Tell me all of this is a nightmare, I want to beg.
This can't be real. I can't really be part of this fucked-up world that I know nothing about.
I'm a Danforth. My dad is a Danforth, right?
But if this is real, and Marcus is my grandfather, then who is…
Something soft and warm presses against my bottom lip, and all thoughts fall from my head.
She's fixing me.
She's here.
It comes as some comfort, but the fact that I've got these wounds in the first place means that there's a chance it's real.
Fuck.
My head spins and my body remains motionless as I draw support from her tender touch. I wish she'd talk to me. That she’d explain what really happened tonight. Because the reality has to be different. It has to be.
I feel myself fading, and I try to claw to reality to keep me here with her. I don't want to succumb to the darkness where I'll be alone. Cold. Confused.
I want her to tell me that everything is okay, normal, and that my life as I know it isn't completely over.
That I'm not basically owned by Cade Kingsley and his asshole friends who chanted all that Latin at me earlier, watching as that fucker dragged a knife across my skin and forced me to drink out of a chalice.
It can't be real.
I awake with a start, ripping my eyes open to find that I'm shrouded in darkness and that the pain I thought I’d dreamed about is very, very real.
Blinking a few times, I allow my eyes to adjust, and when they finally do, I find a figure sitting with his back against the wall and his arms wrapped around his legs that are pulled up against his chest.
"A-Alex?" My voice is so rough, it sounds like I've been asleep for a week.
Maybe I have.
"Yeah," he replies. His own sounds hollow, broken.
"What did… Are we really… Fuck,” I breathe through the pain burning every inch of me. “What the fuck was that?”
"Our worst fucking nightmare," he sighs.
“Did you know that was going to happen?” I ask. Whatever that was.
"Does it sound like I fucking knew?" he hisses, and I don’t know if it’s from the pain, frustration, or both.
“You’re a Rexford? How is that even possible?”
“You tell me. I thought my dad was dead." His defeated tone speaks to me, and I fight to sit up so I can support him. My body screams as I attempt to move. After what feels like an hour, I finally manage to push from the cold, solid concrete floor beneath me so I'm on my hands and knees.
I crawl over to him, hating that Cade Kingsley has reduced me to this, before lowering my ass back to the ground beside him. "I'm sorry,” I croak.
"It's not your fault."
"At least we're in this together though, eh?"
