Page 61 of Sullied Saints

Someone else inside this room yells. Everyone stops. And then I see why.

Tristan has the gun,mygun, levelled at Cassandra. She looks surprised, but then her smile returns, even if it is tremulous. "You won't shoot me, Tris."

He doesn’t respond, but I see the waver in his cuffed hands as he keeps the gun levelled. I hear my heart pounding in my ears. "Isaidlet them both go. You can take your grief out on me. Not them."

"I don't want to!" she screams, like a petulant child, or the absolute nut-job of a woman that she is, and her next words are spoken so evenly that I briefly believe she might be lucid after all, "And you won't pull that trigger."

She’s not sane, but she’s right. The moment the gun wavers, lowering just an inch, I know we’re done. I know my future is that metal frame and plaster and death.

Dirk’s lunge is almost too fast to register.

He shouldn’t have been able to break away from the two men holding him. But one of them was distracted trying to gag him, to stop him from drawing attention up from the street, and the other was holding his arms alone. Only because of that, is he able to tear free for the split second it takes to dive forward.

At the last moment, Cassandra sees him coming for her, and she tries to back away. But too late.

Dirk’s hand snaps around her throat, his knuckles white and bulging with the power and the anger of his grip. One arm holds her frail body out at arm’s length. I see the pads of his fingers digging deep into her tendons, and he turns to pull her further out, over the edge, until her heels dangle over nothing but space.

Shouts lift from below. They’ve seen her. They’ll see him too. The cameras are flashing from the other rooftop.

"Dirk don't!" I scream.

He doesn't move. Cassandra chokes, the sounds almost soft, her feet scrabbling for the edge.

Tristan has already levelled the gun at Dirk instead. I stumble forward, a step away from being in the path of the bullet should Tristan fire. "Just because I saved you once doesn't mean I won't shoot you now," Tristan tells him. "Let. Her. Go."

Still, Dirk doesn't move. I see Cassandra’s veins stick out on her forehead. "You shoot me, she drops. I’ll make sure of that," he says, gaze never leaving the struggling woman, his torturer, at the end of his arm. The fire glows off him, new fuel flaring through Crennick.

"Dirk, don't! Please," I sob the last word.

Dirk is speaking to her, not me, not Tristan. "He won't kill you, but I fucking will."

Cassandra tries to speak but croaks instead. Her eyes find Tristan, pleading, bulging.

"You were going to kill her. You were going to kill me. You tried to ruin my life." Dirk’s hand, somehow, finds room to tighten. Her neck is scored red where his fingers have dragged. "You dug your little knives in…" He’s on the edge, about to squeeze the life out of her, or throw her and accept the bullet. Even if it’s not the bullet, everyone will see what he’s done. He’ll have committed murder with cameras and the eyes of all Tregam on him.

A siren bleeps again then is cut off, followed by the sound of a car window smashing. Probably our backup. I don’t care. They won’t get here in time.

"Don’t!" I cry, and finally, Dirk’s eyes, haunted, confused and lost, find me. Even if he survives killing her, he'll go to prison. "I want you here, with me,” I plead, my voice giving out as I go on, “Please don't go."

His eyes drift back to Cassandra. I'm losing him.

“I said let her go.” Tristan’s voice joins the mix, and he steps forward, as though to make Dirk heed the gun. But one look from Dirk and he stops in his tracks, perhaps seeing intention behind his eyes. Any closer, and he’ll kill her.

Cassandra’s men have moved forward, finally working out that they should do something, lifting their own weapons. But they don’t know who to worry about—Tristan, Dirk, or me. One with a baseball bat stands behind Dirk, waiting, perhaps on the edge of trying something brave.

So many ways I could be about to watch him die..

I’m broken by the fear, by needing to make it to the end of this moment, and fearing how that end will come. How can it end with Dirk alive? And still mine? I need a miracle, and those don’t come often in Tregam.

The words are weak from my lips, hopeless; "I love you, Dirk. Please, don't go," But he's already lost to me. I’m on my knees, at the end of how much I can bear. To lose him now will destroy me. But that’s what’s going to happen.

Moments pass. Cassandra’s gurgling continues. I lift my head.

And find that Dirk is watching me instead. I must paint a broken picture. Infinitesimally, Dirk’s brow softens, and the real him returns to the light behind his eyes.

Cassandra is gasping her last in his hand. Abruptly, suddenly, Dirk lets her go.

But not off the side of the building. He tosses her back to the rubble, where she heaves for breath through a destroyed throat. Dirk throws himself down to me, holding me tight in his arms, but I can't stop sobbing, the utter destruction of thinking he was lost to me worse than when she'd chosen me. I clutch him desperately, wetting his shoulder with my face.

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