As I looked around the room, my gaze fell upon the gun, its metallic surface glinting in the dim light. It was then that I understood the true depth of what had transpired. This was not just an act of revenge; it was a liberation. We had broken free from Jane’s venomous web, and in doing so, we had shattered the chains that bound us to our pasts.
A bitter smile crossed my lips as I realized that sometimes destruction was the only path to freedom.
Clawing my way across the slick, blood-slicked floor, I ripped my shirt off, the rough fabric a stark contrast to the smoothness of his skin and pressed it against the gaping wound in his chest, his blood soaking it instantly.
His eyes, glazed and fading, met mine. “It’s... too... late...” he rasped, each word a labored gasp.
“Shut your goddamn mouth, Sin,” I snarled, the metallic tang of blood filling my nostrils, the stench of fear and violence thick in the air. Panic clawed at my throat, my vision blurred, and the room spun into a chaotic mess of shadows and broken furniture.
A phone. I need a fucking phone.
My fingers, slick with his blood, trembled as I frantically searched. The staccato beat of my heart was a deafening drum in my ears. Each second stretched into an eternity, the silence punctuated only by Sin’s ragged breaths, his life draining away with each horrifying cough.
“I’m... sorry...” His whisper was barely audible, lost in the rising tide of my terror.
The taste of ash and despair filled my mouth; this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Not like this. Not with him.
The weight of his impending death pressed down on me, crushing the last vestiges of hope.
“Please forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whispered.
“I loved you the only way I knew how.”
“You did your best,” I muttered, refusing to let this be our last conversation as my eyes finally found what they were looking for. “Now shut up and stay alive.”
My fingers fumbled for the cold, slick glass of my phone—a lifeline I desperately craved. But before I could dial, Sinclair was a blur of motion, a coiled viper striking. He shoved me aside, the impact as I hit the floor jarring my teeth. The deafening crack of the gunshot ripped through the silence, a sound that would forever etch itself into my soul.
I spun around, and my stomach lurched. Jane. Her eyes, glazed, lifeless pools reflecting the sickly yellow light as a tiny, crimson speck bloomed on her forehead, the source of a torrent of blood that cascaded down her pale skin. The metallic tang of it filled my nostrils, a stench that would forever cling to my memory. The clatter of the gun punctuated the sickening thud of her body hitting the floor as Sinclair collapsed too, his own form a broken heap, the life draining from him as surely as it had from her. His face, a mask of something I couldn’t quite decipher, regret? Triumph? Terror? The air thickened, heavy with the stench of blood and the ghost of our shared past, a past now brutally and violently severed.
Clawing my way back, the rough wood a sandpaper rasp against my knees, I scooped his head into my lap. His blood, thick and hot, blooming across my hands like a crimson flower, slicked and sticky against my skin. The coppery tang filled my nostrils, a metallic stench that warred with the acrid bite of gunpowder still clinging to the air. Tears, scalding and relentless, blurred my vision as I pressed my palms into the blossoming wound, the rhythm of my heart a frantic drum against my ribs.
“Sin,” I choked, my voice raw with a grief that ripped through me like a jagged shard of glass. “Damn it, Sin, hang on. Just... hang on a little longer. Please. God, please. They’re coming.”
His eyes, usually sparkling with a devilish glint, were now dull and fading as they mirrored the hope draining from my soul.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end.
Not like this.
Not with him.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dante
Powell Ranch, Diamond Creek, Nebraska,
The quietness of the morning enveloped me like a comforting blanket, and I felt a sense of serenity amidst the gentle sounds of nature. As the sun continued its ascent, the fields glowed with a golden hue, creating an ethereal backdrop to the tranquil scene. The chaotic city life I left behind presented a stark contrast; there, skyscrapers often obscured sunrises, and traffic noise drowned out the birdsong. Haizley’s words echoed in my mind, as I contemplated the weight of truth and lies.
The peace of the countryside offered me a respite from the turmoil of my thoughts, but I knew I couldn’t escape the reality of my situation forever. As I sat there, sipping my coffee, I thought about the web of lies that had been uncovered. Haizley’s saying made more sense now, as the truth often brought with it a deeper pain. I felt a mix of emotions—anger at the deception, confusion about what to believe, and a sense of loss for the life I thought I had. Despite the calm of the countryside, my mind was anything but peaceful.
The tranquility of Nebraska’s wide-open spaces provided a temporary sanctuary, and I knew that soon I would have to confront the truths I had uncovered. But for now, I savored this moment of serenity, watching the sun paint the sky with vibrant colors and feeling the warmth of the rising sun on my face. It was a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty of life, moments of peace could be found in the most unexpected places.
I still didn’t know how to process everything I had learned, and Haizley told me that was okay. That I could take my time, that there was no rush. In some twisted way, she understood what I couldn’t articulate and accepted that I didn’t have all the answers. She was patient and understanding, when all I wanted to do was scream and rail against everyone.
