Page 130 of Taint My Soul

That specific helplessness of losing someone who means so much. But every time I close my eyes, that’s all I can see.

Cross had driven straight from the mansion to my house since Virgil said he was staying the night at the family house. The first thing I recall is seeing Bernard lying beside the car, head split by a gun’s impact. He was still alive and breathing, just unconscious. I can’t explain the level of visceral dread that sank its claws into me when I saw two motionless bodies.

I hurry toward them, feet stomping against the ground as I crash to my knees in front of Mason. His eyes are barely open. His hands are firmly planted on the bullet wound in his stomach. Terror detonates in my chest, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs. My hands circle his neck to hold his head up as he blinks at me.

“Mason.” A cold, animalistic fear drifts down my spine. My hands tremble around his feeble, dying body. I tear my gaze away from him and look ahead. “Cross! Cross, I need to get him to the hospital.” My voice is too rough, suffocated by the terror that roots me in place.

“I…” Mason chokes with emotion.

“I know. I know.” Veins stretch beneath my skin. Pressure builds behind my eyes until it becomes intolerable, and the tears flow, blurring my vision. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” I’m not sure if I believe the words coming out of my mouth.

I’m too lost in this powerlessness that I don’t know when Cross closes the distance between us. He slumps to his knees beside me and checks for a pulse.

“It’s faint. Come on, hand him over to me. I can drive to the hospital.” He looks at me and casts a glance at the dead body beside Mason. “You need to take care of this. Call a cleaner.”

I don’t respond.

Everything about him that makes life better and beautiful is falling apart in my eyes.

“Saint!” Cross roars at me and places his hand on my shoulder. “If you want him to survive, we need to move now.”

“Hmm.” I let Mason’s fragile body go, and Cross snatches him up into his arms, and he scampers toward the car.

I’m on my knees even when he drives away. How did this happen? Only a few hours ago, we were together at the wedding. The night didn’t go exactly well, but still.

Anger burns in my blood when I realize he had killed the unrecognizable man lying in front of our house.

The motherfucker came here to take what’s mine. If he weren’t dead, I’d drive him to the hospital myself and get him fixed, then torture him for the rest of his life.

I pick myself up and regain my footing. I reach into my pocket and take out my phone, staring at the screen. All I see is blood and pain. I unlock my phone and type in the number, sending the call.

Beep. Beep.

Her voice comes in a second after she receives the call.

Frustration and hopelessness ravage my voice when I try to speak up. “I need you to meet me here. I’ve got a job for you.”

“Right, sir. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

After a while, she arrives in her car, and she walks toward me, looking down at the body in disgust. “This is nasty.”

“Get it done. Inside the house, too.” My voice carries the trace of a hollow, battered man.

“You’ve got it, boss.” She returns to her car to get her cleaning supplies and starts with the man’s body.

Exhaustion weighs on me. My legs are unsteady as I trudge up to the house. I walk through the door and shut it behind me, striding to the liquor display to pour myself a drink.

Dark brown liquid flows into the crystal glass until it pours over the polished surface. I wrap my quaking hands around the stem. The glass slips from my hand and falls on the floor. I leave everything behind and stride out of the house. The cleaner’s already bagging the dead man’s body. As I approach the car, Bernard coughs, slowly sitting up as he holds his head. He surges to his feet and looks around in confusion.

“When did you get here, sir?”

“What the fuck were you doing?” My hands fasten around his collar, and I shove him against the car. “You were supposed to protect him!” I yell into his face, hands shaking around him.

“The last thing I remember…”

“I don’t give a fuck. Now get in the damn car and drive me to the hospital.” I let him go, too angry to control my thoughts. I yank the door open and enter the car. He circles the bonnet and gets in, turning on the engine and driving out of the premises.

It doesn’t take long for us to get to the hospital. I text Cross to ask him where he is, and he asks me to come up to the third floor of the building. He’s pacing the hallway when I arrive. Through the door, I see doctors performing surgery on Mason.