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She killed both of them.
She must have.
That’s what my brain repeats until I hear some more coughing. Nathan’s to be precise. He rolls to his side, out of Volkov’s hold. But Volkov doesn’t move.
As we all approach, we can see the distinct hole in his throat and the blood spilling out of it.
And Nathan is absolutely fine.
Sam helps him up and we all turn to Rose.
“Thank fuck,” she whispers in a broken voice.
Her legs give up and she sits on the floor before wiping her eyebrow with her wrist.
But we don’t get a break. Nathan limps toward her and pulls her back up.
“Give me that,” he says as he takes the gun.
He grabs the handle multiple times, putting his fingerprints all over it, and rubs it against his bloody button down, spreading his own blood on it.
“What are you doing?” Rose chokes.
“Not letting you take the fall for saving my life,” he retorts. “Now get yourself home and leave this to Sam and I.”
He looks to me and Jake before his eyes zero in on my arm. “’Me, you’re hurt.”
“I…” my eyes drop to my bloodied arm and when they come back up, white dots cloud my vision. “Yeah, I think so.”
Blackout.
CHAPTER 25
Arcade – Duncan Laurence
Jamie
That beeping is my worst enemy. It goes on repeat, letting me know I’m alive through my sleepy haze. It makes me believe that everything is going to be okay. That when I open my eyes, my brother and my dad will be alive too. I know it’s a lie. Did Aaron make it? I know Dad didn’t. They’re going to tell me soon. And for the rest of my life, I’m going to have a scar on my shoulder that reminds me of that dreadful night.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I feel a hand on my cheek, and I recognize the slim fingers, the rugged fingertips from burning yourself on coffee cups too many times. Time to face reality.
I slowly open my eyes and turn my head to where I think my mom is.
“’Me,” she smiles with tears in her eyes. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, Mom,” I rasp.
I try to smile at her, but the haze is too much. My whole body feels heavy and my muscles unmovable.
“You’re okay,” she whispers to me as she pushes some strands of hair away from my face. “You’re all okay.”
I think she’s insisting for herself more than me.
“I am,” I reassure her.
“I’m going to get the nurse, sweetie. Is your arm hurting?”
