Page 139 of Shatter

"Pierce." My voice is a stranger's. "Pierce, look at me. Look at me."

His eyes find mine.

They're our mother's eyes, pale green, and they're already going far away.

"Anni." It comes out wet, bubbling. "Anni, I..."

"Don't talk." I press harder, and his blood keeps coming. "Don't talk, okay, just stay, stay with me."

"I'm sorry." He gets it out in pieces, his hand coming up and closing weakly around my wrist. "I'm so... I didn't... I'm sorry..."

"I know." I'm crying so hard I can barely see him. "I know. I know you are. It's okay. It's okay, Pierce."

His fingers tighten on my wrist once.

Then they go loose.

His eyes are still open, still on my face, but he isn't behind them anymore.

"Pierce?" It comes out small.

Nothing.

Under my hands, his chest doesn't rise.

"Pierce." I shake him. "Pierce, no. No, no, no..."

Behind me, the hall has gone silent.

Boots come toward me, slowly.

They stop beside me, and somebody kneels down in my brother's blood.

I know who it is before I look.

"Anni." His voice is low and wrecked and close. "Sweetheart."

I turn my head.

Hakon kneels beside me, his face spattered red, his chest heaving, a bloody knife still clenched in one fist.

Past him, in the middle of the hall, Desmond Arsenault lies on his back in his charcoal suit, staring up at the ceiling with his pale gray eyes wide open and surprised.

He doesn't blink.

He never will again.

I look at Desmond for a long moment.

I wait to feel something.

Relief, or horror.

All I feel is Pierce's blood cooling on my hands.

Hakon sets the knife down on the concrete, very slowly, and holds out his hand to me, palm open.

He always waits.