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Whipping around, I jump high and shoot from far across the court, watching as the ball flies in a perfect arc and drops straight through the hoop. I wait for the rush and satisfaction to start pumping through my veins, but nothing comes, and I just stand there feeling deflated.
Fuck.
I needed that rush, needed the adrenaline to dull the coarse pain shooting through my chest, but I’m on my own tonight, and if I’m not going to get it from basketball, then I can only hope I can find it at the bottom of a bottle.
Leaving the ball slowly rolling across the rooftop, I turn on my heel and stalk back toward the elevator before heading back down to Zade’s penthouse. The door opens and as it’s quickly creeping toward the middle of the night, I expect to find everyone asleep, only that’s the last thing I find.
Oakley sits in Sawyer’s lap, her arm slung over his shoulder and her head resting against his chest as her feet rest on Cross’ lap, the three of them looking miserable.
“There you are,” Oakley murmurs through the quiet room, forcing an encouraging smile across her face, but there’s no mistaking the tension in the room. Hell, it’s so fucking thick, it’s almost impossible to breathe. “I thought we were going to have to send a search party up to find you.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, striding across the living room and dropping down in the armchair, resting back against the cushion. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“Tried,” she says with a soft shrug of her shoulders, her gaze settled on Venom in Cross’ hand. “I just . . .”
“Too much on your mind?” I ask.
Oakley nods and rests her head back against Sawyer’s chest, his hand gently roaming up and down her back as I meet Cross’ stare, needing to know that she’s alright, but he simply shakes his head, that one movement causing me more pain than any knife ever could.
“Wanna talk about it?” I murmur, meeting Oakley’s stare across the living room.
“I do,” she whispers, her gaze falling away. “But I don’t know what else I can possibly say that I haven’t already said. No matter how hard I try, or how far I run, I can’t save myself, and I hate that I’m being so messed up about it tonight. We only have a few more days, and I’ve been trying to hold myself together so we can make the most of them, but it really fucking sucks. I’m terrified. I’m not ready to die.”
Sawyer holds her tighter, and my fingers itch to tear her out of his arms and do it myself, but if she wanted to be in my arms right now, she would have gotten up and walked right into them.
“I fucking love you, Oakley. I’m not going to stop fighting for you, not for one fucking second,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “I know you’re scared. Fuck, Firefly, I’m fucking terrified too. The idea of letting you slip through my fingers kills me. I can’t bear the thought of sending you in to be sacrificed and never being able to see you again. Hold you. Feel you. I can’t—fuck. I can’t picture a life where you don’t exist.”
Tears fall down her face, and she pushes off Sawyer and walks across the living room before climbing into my lap and straddling me, her arms locking around my neck as she clings onto me like a koala. “I don’t want to leave you,” she murmurs in my ear, her tears falling onto my shoulder. “But I’m losing hope. I can’t save myself.”
“I’ll find a way,” I promise her. “I’m not going to let this happen.”
“Down in those cells,” Sawyer says. “You asked for my word to save you. You cashed in your favors, and we’re right there with you, Doll. I don’t know how, but you have to keep faith that we will pull through for you. We’ll figure out a way to save you that doesn’t force a target on your back or Zade’s.”
She shakes her head. “Zade spent years going through the bylaws, trying to figure out a legal way to dethrone his father. If there were some way to save me, he would have already done it. I think it’s time to face the music and admit that it’s over. Without Zade on board, there’s nothing we can do. I’m going to die in six days.”
“Five,” Cross mutters with a heavy breath. “It’s after midnight.”
Oakley’s tears fall harder, and she holds onto me a little bit tighter. My hand roams up and down her back, desperately trying to figure out what the fuck I can do or say that could possibly make this better, but there’s nothing—unless I can magically offer her freedom, but she and I both know I don’t have the power to do that.
