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Specks of blood flick up into the air, revealing Saint has busted open Oscar’s nose, lip, face. After a while, Oscar stops struggling, but that’s too gracious a death for him. Saint stops hitting him and yanks him up by the collar.
His head is floppy as Saint presses them nose to nose. “Wake up, you son of a bitch!” He shakes him violently.
A pained moan escapes Oscar. His face is slathered in crimson, but when his icy eyes flicker open, it’s game on. “There are so many ways I want to hurt you,” Saint purrs with dangerous fury. “But there will never be enough time, never enough violence to make you suffer for what you did to me. To Willow.”
Oscar opens his mouth, but Saint strikes forward and headbutts him. Oscar’s head cracks back with a nauseating thud.
“This should give me satisfaction,” Saint spits, tightening his fingers around Oscar’s collar. “But it doesn’t. I could kill you a thousand times in a thousand different ways, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
The crack in Saint’s voice reveals these scars will never heal.
“Please, don’t. I love…you.” Oscar’s pleas only incite the inferno.
Saint snickers, absolute malice painting his forbidding features. “You don’t know how to love. But, and that’s a big but, if you are capable of loving someone other than yourself, then killing you is poetic justice.”
Blood slips through my fingers as I apply pressure on my wound. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s beyond pain. But I can deal with my injuries later. This is what I came here for. I watch with quietude as Saint reaches into the small of his back and retrieves a large knife.
He stands slowly, leaving Oscar on his knees as he thumbs over the sharp tip of the blade. Oscar peers up at him, eyes pleading he has mercy on him. But he is way past salivation.
I brace for revenge, for this to be finally over with…but all I get is another fucking curveball as the universe throws one last surprise my way.
“Drop it.”
I have no idea what is going on until I feel someone yank me up by my hair. On instinct, I try to twist free, but it’s too late. I’m held fucking prisoner yet again. Astra stands behind me with a gun pressed into my lower back.
Saint’s head snaps my way, his eyes closing in defeat.
But this is not happening again. “Don’t you dare,” I command Saint. “Do it. End this. Now.”
He shakes his head, knowing what I’m asking, but I won’t let this happen again. They can’t win. Everyone has made sacrifices, and this is mine.
Astra cocks the gun, a sign she isn’t bluffing. But I am tired. So fucking tired. I want it to end. With Oscar’s death and Saint’s redemption.
I lock gazes with the man who changed my world forever, and nod in a silent plea for him to end this. But he won’t…which means I will.
“I love you. So much.” My voice trembles while Saint stands transfixed on what I just said. “You once said my demons dance with yours. And you’re right. They always have. Our love wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. And it was worth every single imperfect moment. You are worthy of life, Saint…live it.”
Before Saint can stop me, I jab my elbow back, connecting with Astra’s stomach. Although it throws her off balance, there is no doubt what she will do once she steadies. She will end my life. And I welcome it.
Saint’s screams are laden with every emotion under this darkened sky, but I shut them out and await my fate. A bullet slices the air, and I gasp, certain it’s my kiss of death, but when something heavy falls against me, and I’m still standing, I realize I’m not certain of everything at all.
Hobbling quickly, I swivel to see Astra’s body lying in a bloody, contorted heap. Her eyes glass over, thanks to the bullet wound in the middle of her forehead. I stand motionless, staring down at the woman who held so much power, but now, she’s nothing because she’s fucking dead…dead, thanks to the gun Alek holds.
He shot her.
He blinks slowly, cradling the gun in what appears to be disbelief. Something so small can shift the world in mere seconds. Realization overcomes him, and he drops the gun, dumbfounded. Although she was pure evil, she was his friend.
Everything moves in slow motion as we all stare at the fallen queen, which is a rookie move. Oscar lunges for the gun and aims…but that’s the last thing he’ll ever do because a slash of red paints the snow, before a low gurgling pierces the still air.
A puff of smoke bubbles to life as I gasp. What I see is horrifying as well as beautiful. Saint’s downturned chin, his heaving chest, and his rigid shoulders all point to one thing.
This was always going to end with violence, and Oscar has finally gotten what he deserved. Saint stands above him, the knife he holds dripping ruby droplets onto the white sleet. The imagery is actually quite striking—vivid blood coating the white snow red.
Oscar clutches his bleeding throat with one hand, his eyes wide, while he tugs at Saint’s pants with the other. Unmoved, Saint stares into his eyes, watching the life drain from him. Oscar tries to speak, but it appears the knife wound to his neck has severed his vocal cords.
This isn’t a satisfactory ending because it seems easy compared to what Saint endured, but when Oscar tumbles to his stomach, wheezing a death rattle, a small piece of Saint returns.
Before long, Oscar’s twitches still, and the underworld gains another monster.
