I sigh, continuing, “I don’t think so, though. I mean, I fucked up once. And you do a good job. It would make sense for him to try to get rid of me, I guess, but not you.”
Knives makes a noncommittal sound. “But we can’t go back empty-handed either. He’s not soft and caring—not for us, anyway. Our deaths won’t affect him.”
I close my eyes. “They’d affect him. He’d have to find replacements, and I don’t think he’s going to want to waste his time. Even if we get back without recovering the shipment, I don’t think he’d get rid of us. Demote, yeah. But killing us seems a little extreme…”
Then again, losing the shipment had been a very, very pricey mistake.
“It might not be about the shipment.” Knives shifts, and somehow ends up even closer to me. “He could just not like us, personally.”
My mouth is impossibly dry. Silvano could very well be pissed that the two of us don’t get along. He could be tired of it. This whole thing could’ve been a test, or a trap, and we’re failing it miserably. “Cristiano wouldn’t let him just throw us to the wolves.” I grimace. “Gators. Whatever.”
“Dude, Cristiano cares about one single fucking person, and it’s not us.” Knives lets out a strange laugh. “I still don’t know what to make of Fox.”
“That little shit would shoot us all if he had the choice,” I say. My shoulder is throbbing, and I reach up to touch the makeshift bandage—dragging Knives’s hand along with me. His arm ends up over my torso.
As expected, the cloth is still soaked, and I don’t want to peel it away to see the damage.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” Knives says quietly. “Somehow. We need… I don’t know, fuck. If we’re lucky, some boat tour will come around tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say. I lick my lips, wanting more of the water but not willing to drain what little we have. I choke on a laugh. “Imagine them finding us like this, in the middle of the swamp. They’d call the cops for sure.”
“And you could just throw me under the bus to escape, again,” Knives mutters.
“I didn’t—” I start to snarl something back at him, but us fighting is what got us into this to begin with. And maybe… Maybe it’s time we actually had a proper talk about it. “Knives,” I start, taking a deep breath full of fetid swamp air. Ugh. If I’m going to die here, though, I don’t want to do it with this hanging over us.
Not anymore.
He doesn’t look at me. He just sits there, waiting.
“I… I know ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t change anything. But I meant what I said earlier.” I laugh, though the sound is far from humorous. “Well. What I yelled, I guess. I know saying I was just a dumb kid doesn’t fix anything, but I… I was so scared, Nayeem. I panicked, and I freaked out, and I wanted to go to you to tell you how sorry I was. I really, really did. But I knew you’d hate me, so one day turned into another, and another, then it was a year, then two, and I…” I exhale slowly. “I never meant for it to be that way.”
Knives’s hand clenches against my chest.
“I—” His voice gets rough. “I was waiting. For you to show up. Only it wasn’t you who came. It was the cops.”
I can barely swallow around the lump in my throat that just seems to keep getting bigger. “I acted like a scared little boy,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry. I would change things in a heartbeat if I could.”
Knives’s breathing gets louder. “They tried me as an adult. Because of the gang stuff, and the source of the drugs and the gun, and… something. They wanted me to roll over and snitch on the rest of the crew. But the pigs beat me when they found me, and they beat me at the precinct too. I wasn’t going to betray anyone for those fuckers. I tried to fight back at first, but it didn’t make a difference. ” He lets out a bitter laugh. “My parents cut ties with me, and the state-appointed defense attorney did her best, but she couldn’t get the ADA to lower the charges. I was a ‘violent offender.’”
Tears burn in the corners of my eyes as I think about a scared, lonely teenaged Nayeem getting beaten up by the cops. It wouldn’t have changed anything if I had shown up. We just both would’ve been tried and sentenced.
But we might’ve been together.
It might’ve made things more bearable for both of us.
“Eight fucking years,” Knives says, his voice rough. “It’s… it’s not sunshine and roses. I saw three men murdered while I was there. Another guy was taken out by the guards while in solitary. I got lucky that I had somebody take me under his wing, but after he got out, I had to navigate all that shit alone. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not the guards, not the other prisoners. Got beat up by both. I beat other guys up too, because it was the only way to win respect.”
His fists clench, and he takes a steadying breath.
“I should’ve done something differently,” I say quietly. All of my years of self-flagellation, and I still hadn’t understood how bad it would be for him. All of my years of self-flagellation, and I still hadn’t understood how bad it would be for him. “Anything.” I take in another breath of dank air, welcoming the distraction of the stench of decay and stagnant water. “I know you don’t believe me, but I would do anything to change the past. If we get caught, I’ll take the fall. No matter what happens, the heat’s on me. All right? It’s my turn to protect you.”
Knives tightens his embrace. I wince at how the skin around my wound pinches, but despite that, his weight feels… right.
“If I’d been alone earlier, I would have fought,” Knives admits softly. “But I didn’t want to see you die. Despite everything I’ve said and done, I just…” He lets out a frustrated sound. “You hurt me so bad, and I wanted to hurt you too, but I can’t stop thinking about you, Maddox.”
I want to cry.
“I get it,” I reply, even though I’m not sure I do. “I’ve… I’ve never stopped thinking about you. There’s never been anyone but you. I won’t lie. I tried. But…” I close my eyes. “I’ve hated myself every moment since I didn’t show up to the time you got out of jail.” I pause, then let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, I haven’t really stopped. I don’t think I’m ever going to forgive myself, and I don’t expect you to forgive me either.”
