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“The gunfire stopped,” I point out. “Maybe we should stay here?”
Nathaniel shakes his head. “They’ve got fuckers everywhere and we’re not far enough away yet. Come on, we need to keep moving.”
Grabbing my hand this time, he tugs me along, moving slower. We stop at each corner, peeking around. Listening closely. The area is like a fucking maze of old buildings, and we’re only heading deeper into it.
Then we reach a point where we hear gunfire ahead of us.
Nathaniel stiffens and curses. “God fucking dammit, I knew it!”
“What?” I hiss.
“We’re heading the wrong way,” he says and spins on his heel.
Tugging on my hand, he starts to lead me back the way we came.
Digging in my heels to stop him, I ask, “Is that where Jude is?”
Sensing how I’ll respond to his answer, Nathaniel’s hand tightens around mine before he answers, “Yes.”
I yank back regardless, fighting him in earnest. “We have to help him!”
“No!” Nathaniel snaps and drags me forward, forcing my shoes to dig grooves into the gravel.
I’m tempted to point the gun at him to stop him. Tempted to fucking shoot him.
“He wouldn’t want that,” Nathaniel adds, glancing at me over his shoulder. “You’re the mother of his child. He would kill me for putting you in danger.”
Knowing he’s right, knowing Jude would probably kill him, hopelessness washes over me. The gunfire that’s now behind us sounds so much worse than what we dealt with. It sounds so much worse than what I imagined.
And what I imagined was pretty fucking bad.
It’s almost never-ending. A constant bombardment.
Tears fall from my eyes, unbidden. Unwelcome.
The fear I’ve been fighting back finally winning.
The thought I’ve been repressing since I first learned he was in danger finally pounding like a nail into brain.
Jude is going to die.
I don’t know how I know, but I can fucking sense it. I can fuckingfeelit.
I’ve made a lot of bad mistakes in my life. So many stupid fucking mistakes. Thinking I knew what I was doing and always being wrong.
But this, I know with certainty.
I know it like one knows how to blink, to breathe. It’s primal, instinctual.
Spiritual.
The other half of my soul is soon to depart from this earth, and I didn’t get enough time with him.
We didn’t have enough fucking time!
He won’t get to see Abel grow up.
Abel won’t even remember him.
