Page 67 of Born Chaos

Something flashes in the blinding sunlight. It twirls before Sebastian grips it tightly in his hand. And with an unearthly howl, he spins, and his fist connects with Roman’s chest.

I hear a crunch. I hear a wet sound. And I hear a heartbeat stutter.

I don’t understand what has happened until Sebastian takes two steps back from Roman. Roman’s blue eyes go wide. His hands raise to his chest. And blood pours down the front of it, where there is a chisel embedded deep into his heart.

His eyes slide over to me. He gives a wet-sounding gasp.

A scream rips from my lungs. Panic and rage set my body on fire. And I react before I can fully piece together what is happening.

I wrap my arm around Sebastian’s throat again, pulling him back with everything in me.

Sebastian staggers back at my strength.

Roman pulls the tool from his chest.

And I watch as the blood spills out, endless in volume.

Because Sebastian just staked him through the heart.

“No, no!” I breathe as Sebastian and I both stumble backward.

But no matter how I plead, I watch as Roman loses his strength. As he begins to fall. As his skin turns gray.

“Roman!” I scream as horror fills me, and I realize what’s happened.

“Rot in hell, asshole,” Sebastian snarls.

I shove Sebastian aside as Roman hits the ground. The entire world feels eerily silent as I stare at those eyes, which gaze at the ceiling, blank, empty.

“You may never love me again,” Sebastian says coldly. “But at least he’ll never have you either.”

I feel frozen. Locked. Cast into the darkness.

When I first came to Chicago, I thought Roman was a prick. He was cold and removed. But when push came to shove, Roman kept my biggest secret. When the perfect bubble Sebastian and I existed in burst, it was Roman who gave me shelter. When I was losing myself, and no one else noticed, it was Roman who faced the dragon and got me out of the castle.

I should kill Sebastian. What he’s done is vile and evil. What he just said is controlling and disgusting.

All I can think about is how the wrong man is lying dead on the floor.

A single tear slips down my face. I feel so cold, so numb. I don’t feel the floor as I step across the remaining space. Everything feels incredibly quiet as I drop to my knees beside Roman.

Let Sebastian think what he’s going to think. But Roman didn’t deserve to die, and it’s my fault his immortal life was cut short.

If I could take it all back, I would, I think to myself.

I reach down, caressing his cheek.

And instantly, a familiar, agonizing pain rips through my chest, breaking my ribs, spearing directly into my heart. As I feel that sensation I’ve experienced four times now come rushing toward me, Roman’s eyes fly open, a gasp ripping from his lips.

I fall to the floor, dead.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

A dozen scenesflash in my brain. Me saving Roman in that warehouse. Me, tossing Roman out the window before Archer could kill him. The two of us laughing in his SUV as we look for a madman hiding in the city. The two of us out on a boat, dumping ashes into the water. He and I on the roof of the church, having the first real conversation we’ve ever shared. And then him holding me in his trashed apartment while I fell apart.

I hear yelling. I hear frantic voices. Muffled at first, and then pounding, pounding on my eardrums.

And that familiar rush surges inside of me. Like I’m strapped to the front of a freight train, and there’s no slowing it down.

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