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I had to shoot him.
I had to.
He was going to get away.
A chill rushed up my arms, and I shivered, trying to ignore the throb in the side of my thigh where a bullet had gone through and through. It wasn’t so bad. I could keep walking.
Didn’t matter.
So what if I collapsed?
So what if I fucking died right here in the road?
I’d almost killed them.
If Diesel had been even another minute later, I would’ve.
But he needed to die.
No.
I could’ve held. I could’ve let him go.
No.
I beat my fists against the sides of my head, growling my frustration, bending to a crouch.
Corvus was right. This was all my fault. Axel was still alive, but I’d seen the others among the dead. Crowley and Derrik. They wouldn’t be going home to their families. Grey would never see right again. Rook was shot at least twice, if not more, his older bullet-wounds still healing. Corvus had been shot in the stomach, and even if he seemed all right, the recovery from that would be brutal.
My Crows.
I’d always thought they would be the death of me. Maybe it was me who was always destined to be the death of them.
The tears came hot and fast, welling from a spring deep down inside that I thought had rusted over a long time ago.
I beat my fist against my skull again, relishing in the pain.
I deserved it.
I deserved every bad thing that ever happened to me. That ever would happen.
My fingernails bit into my scalp as I rocked there at the side of the road in the dark, stuck between wanting to run and keep running and never come back…
…and turning my ass around and marching back there, to the place where I belonged.
I choked on a painful sob, swiping the backs of my palms over my eyes as I pushed myself back to standing, wincing at the wound in my leg. It could just fucking get in line with all the other aches and pains on the surface that did nothing to distract me from the deeper ache.
The one quivering in my chest like a dying thing.
Grey was going to live.
He would live and Corvus would live and Rook would live.
Diesel was alive.
The Aces and the Dead Men were dead.
I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the dry dirt along with the earthy tang of dried blood coating the inside of my nose. The crispness of mountain trees.
