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Everything felt like an effort.
I had to stay awake.
I needed to know Penelope and Kane were okay. I should be there for Penelope.
I’ll just rest a few minutes . . .
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
KANE
Whoever saidthere is no pain in death lied.
I had to be dead.
And it hurt like a son of a gun.
It was strange. All I could hear was the noise inside my head.
There was no heartbeat.
No voices.
Just . . . a whooshing.
Maybe pain had a sound.
That was the whoosh. And it was so loud it overshadowed everything else.
At least I could rest eternally knowing JoJo was alive. She’d been breathing the last time I saw her.
It seemed too much to ask for one more chance to be with her.
I hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to her or Penelope.
The part about the white light was a lie too.
All I could see was dark.
Probably because you’re in hell.
I deserved that. I’d spent a life focused on the wrong thing. My punishment would be reliving the regret I hadn’t come to my senses sooner.
I hadn’t protected my family.
My girls were counting on me, and I’d failed them.
They were the angels. Not me.
I should be used to living in torment. After all, I’d done it for over two decades.
Wasn’t it just my luck that, with the ink barely dry on my divorce that gave me everything, I’d kick the bucket.
Shot. By the anti-Christ herself.
Strangely enough, I never saw it coming to that.
I underestimated Alma.
