I wipe the tears from my cheeks and try once again, fingers shaking as I hit the button.
Grey lets out a wet cough, a gurgling sound that sends sweat beading on my forehead from the fresh wave of panic.
“Pick up, Daxton. I don’t know what to do,” I cry out, heart breaking. I can’t lose Grey—he’s the only person I have.
“Grey, wake up, baby.”
But he doesn’t.
The phone screen blurs as more tears fall when I dial Daxton again. A sting of betrayal at him not answering hits me like a gunshot. I feel utterly at a loss in the middle of the night.
Suddenly, a hand brushes away my tears, startling me. “Are you crying over me?” The voice is teasing, yet breathy and full of twisted agony.
“Grey?” I ask, barely believing it as relief washes over me.
He nods, smiling weakly while gently wiping away the tears from my cheeks. “I’m…s-sorry,” he wheezes.
“What are you doing here, baby?” My voice trembles, breaking at the sight of him beaten within an inch of his life.
“I-I had to do…something,” he stammers, then winces.
“What did you do?” My voice is hesitant, even though I have an inkling of what he did.
The forest around seems to hold its breath along with me as I await his reply. Meeting my eyes, he lifts his hands for me to inspect. He grits his teeth as I inspect his knuckles, swollen and tender, with scraped skin and small abrasions. Specks of dried blood coat the surface, and only have more bile rising in my throat as I attempt to keep my composure.
Despite the pain floating through his body, he opens his palm, showing me the bloodied bunt of money enough to last for a few months. Horror makes its way through me, crawling down my spine as I stare at him, unable to find the words.
“I had to do something,” he replies, broken yet determined.
“You fought?”
“Revisited the past.” The smirk on his face tells me he’s fought before.
I’m unable to form any coherent words as I guide him toward the house.
“Never be so fucking stupid again.” I curse him, emotions clogging my voice.
His steps are interrupted by yet another wheezing cough that has him stumbling forward, and I hold on to him with all the strength I can muster—which is hard since he’s taller than me.
“That’s not the best part, though,” he rasps, taking something out of his other pocket.
It’s two passports and a gun, safe from the same blood that stains the money. I’m speechless as my eyes lock on the passports in disbelief.
“W-what?”
“We can be free, little doll.”
I still can’t find any coherent words as I pause and truly look at him. I don’t dare ask him what the cost was—it’s obvious from his bruised body. Whoever did this must have thought he was dead with no one to care for him, and then abandoned him on those tracks to die alone.
What if I hadn’t woken up? How long had he been out there in the cold?
I continue guiding his body through the yard. Holding and supporting his weight in my smaller form is no easy feat, and he stumbles forward again while nearly losing his balance. He’s worse off than I initially thought.
“I was fine until they came for me as I got home,” he struggles to grit out, and I glare at him, despite worry etching itself across every feature.
We reach the porch, and his confession hangs heavy in the air. The cold bites into our bodies as I open the door to the house, trembling fingers making it harder, and no warmth greets us. I guide him to the couch in the living room, not even daring to venture up the stairs to the room we’ve been staying in for the past few days. He sinks heavily into the plush mattress, each ragged breath only deepening the ache inside me.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I murmur as I remove his jacket, laying it over him as a blanket.
