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Survival instincts, maybe. Whatever it is, I stumble into the wall, using it as support to turn myself around. Then, I’m spent.
My lashes are drooping as I look ahead and …
The dark fae is just standing where I was when I shot him. In his hands, he turns the dagger around, over and over, and he considers me with a molten gaze fuelled by magma.
Slowly, he tucks the dagger away in his weapons belt.
Then he’s storming towards me.
I cringe back against the wall before the first hit comes—and it does. His fist catches me right in the gut; a choke seizes my throat. I double over, eyes rolling back, and time stands still for a moment. Just as I’m about to drop to the ground, his hand balls up again and he brings it down on my spine.
The force knocks me to the pavement. I don’t hear the slam of my impact, but I feel it burning all over my body like fire.
I’m sprawled on the ground, face-first. Cheek pressed against the rough little gravel-stones, tears dampening my cheeks.
Please make it quick.
One dagger hit to the back, right where my heart is, and it’ll all be over.
I don’t beg, what’s the bother of it? I don’t want to keep on living this brutal, dark life.
Just please—be quick about it.
Of course, I shot him. So there will be nothing quick about this.
I’m flipped onto my back and, for a moment, I don’t know how. Then I feel the explosion of pain on my side; cracked ribs from his brutal kick.
My back arches and my arms wrap around my middle. A silent scream twists my mouth; as though all the sound inside of me is silenced. Even now that I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I can’t—I can’t make even a whimper.
Nothing.
Is this dark fae power? Is he doing something to silence my cries?
I don’t know what I’m thinking—it’s the head injury. It must be.
Maybe when he was choking me, I lost my voice completely. And now I can’t scream as he stands over me, running me over with a suddenly detached look. His mouth has flattened into a grim line again.
He starts to blur as tears build up in my eyes. I look away, turning my cheek to him, arms and legs spread, ready for the final blow.
And my gaze lands on Spike.
Though glazed, I can see that he’s watching, wide-eyed. He trembles like a leaf in a storm, hands still raised.
Didn’t bother helping, not even once. Not me, not Paul, not anyone.
I knew I was right about him.
After a while, the dark fae traces my stare. Spike seems to sense this. He jolts his arms up higher, alert, and his mouth moves. I can’t hear much, but I do catch the alien word ‘kuri’. He’s telling him all about his freckles. And he shows him the freckles, too.
I don’t look back at the dark fae, so I don’t see his reaction. All I know is that Spike has been forgotten for now, and instead, I’m the focus once more.
As he steps over me then lowers to straddle my middle, my face twists with a fresh wave of silent sobs.
This is it. The end I’ve been craving since I hit puberty.
Teeth clenched, I close my eyes. But my heart doesn’t hammer. It’s perfectly calm.Ready.
I hear the zing of a knife being drawn from his belt, feel the shift of his weight on my bruised ribs. My groan is silent, still trapped under his spell.
