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The world narrows down to this moment—me, the executioner, taking the life of a man who would've gladly ended mine. Declan's breathing stutters, his body jerks once, twice, then falls still.
He's dead.
I killed him.
Relief floods through me, mingled with a dark satisfaction. But there's no time for reflection. I scramble up, wiping my hands on my jeans, the blood staining them already blending with the dirt and grime.
"Come on, Constantino," I urge, my voice breaking as I move back to where Evan is tending to him. "Stay with us."
His seizure starts to slow, his body gradually relaxing.
"Good job, Evan," I say softly, kneeling beside them. "You did good."
Constantino's dark hair is plastered to his forehead, his green eyes closed, the storm within temporarily quieted.
"Will he be okay?" Evan asks, his voice hopeful yet tinged with fear.
"Yeah," I say, the words finally not feeling like a lie. "He'll be okay."
Chapter Forty-Four
I'm teetering on the edge of consciousness, not sure if I'm being yanked back to life or dragged down to the fires below. They say dying isn't pretty, but this—this is a downright bitch. The seizing rips through me like electric currents, jolting and sputtering until it fades into a dull throb. My eyelids are leaden, but I pry them open, inch by agonizing inch.
The world swims into focus, all blurry edges and murky shadows. I'm sprawled out on the cold floor, the stink of sweat and blood thick in my nostrils. It's the same makeshift ring where I went toe-to-toe with Declan, his fist a hammer to my jaw, my own punches carving him up 'til he stopped moving.
"Constantino?" A voice pierces the haze, laced with worry.
Evelyn.
I tilt my head, vision clearing enough to make out her and Evan crouched beside me, their faces twisted in concern. "You're okay, just stay still."
"Feel like hammered shit," I try to grunt, but pain splinters through my jaw, sharp and biting. I taste iron, my tongue thick and clumsy. Evelyn's hand is gentle on my shoulder, her touch a surprising comfort.
"Shh, don't talk," she whispers, her blue eyes scanning my face. "Your jaw's probably broken."
"Great, just what I need," I want to snap back, but only a groan escapes.
Evelyn leans closer, her blond hair brushing against my cheek as she murmurs, "Declan's dead. You won."
"Dead..." The word slithers through my mind, coiling around my thoughts. Declan O'Leary, the burly bastard who thought he could take me down. But it was me who laid him out flat. There's a savage satisfaction in that, a primal thrill that sends a shiver through my battered body.
"Let's get you out of here." Evelyn's voice is steady, but her hands tremble as they move to help me. Evan's small fingers wrap around mine, and I feel something wrench inside me. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't see this.
"Sorry, kid," I try to murmur, my throat raw.
"Is he going to be okay?" Evan's words are timid, his gaze flicking between me and Evelyn.
"Of course," Evelyn assures him, though her eyes still hold a world of worry.
A sigh escapes me, heavy as the darkness clawing at the edges of my consciousness. "We gotta split before—" I start, but the words gnash against the broken shards of my jaw. Pain flares bright and hot.
"Shh." Evelyn's fingers brush my cheek, her touch gentle, urgent. "We need to leave, now. Before they find out Declan's dead."
I push the pain into a dark corner of my mind and force myself upright with her help. The room spins, but I steady it withsheer will. Evelyn's eyes scan the empty space, blue gaze sharp and skittish. "Where is everyone?" she murmurs, more to herself than to us.
"Doesn't matter," I grunt, my voice a gravelly whisper as I take in the absence of Declan's cronies. There should be cheers or jeers, anything but this empty silence.
With an effort that leaves my muscles quivering, I haul myself to my feet, leaning heavily on Evelyn.
