“No,” I say in a firm voice. “Whatever it is, you’ll tell them yourself. We’re almost there.”
“Please.”
That one word cleaves through my heart.
“Okay,” I say hoarsely.
“They need to know… I’m not in pain. I’m not… scared, just sad I won’t… be around to help… destroy these motherfuckers.” He chokes on a laugh. “Skylar… is going to be angry. Let her be, but… don’t allow her… to turn it inward. She is the fiercest, most… powerful woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve… been so goddamn… lucky to have her looking… out for me all these years.”
I blink back tears, sniffling as I keep my eyes on the road.
“I’m not sure… what you’re going to tell Oliver… but I know you’ll… make sure he’s okay. He’s a special one… and he deserves… the fucking world. I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give it… to him.”
His breathing becomes shallower, and mine gets stuck in my throat. “Max,” I whisper.
“Tristan is… going to blame himself. Whatever it takes, you… need to convince him… this isn’t… his fault. There… was nothing… he could… have done. Tell him… he’s my brother… that I will always… admire him. I will always… love him.”
I’m shaking my head and pressing the gas even harder. “Tell him yourself, Max,” I say sternly.
I’m met by silence.
“Tell him yourself,” I repeat louder, and my voice shakes.
More silence.
My pulse spikes, my chest rising and falling fast. I’m too scared to look at him. “Max.” The crack in my voice makes my eyes fill with tears. “Say something. Please.”
Nothing.
Finally, I look.
His eyes are closed, his chest is still.
Max is gone.
I press my fist against my mouth, fighting the sob that’s trying to break free from my throat. Holding it in until I can’t any longer, I pull the car over onto the shoulder of the country road and scream, choking on the sob. My arm hurts worse when I slam my fists into the steering wheel.
Anger radiates through me, thinking of the woman in the trunk. She might not have founded the Experiment, but she’s a big part of it. She deserves to suffer for the pain she’s caused; the lives lost because of her precious organization.
I shift the car into drive and pull back onto the road.
I’ll let Tristan decide how to handle her.
By the time I pull into the back parking lot of the hotel, only hints of daylight still streak the sky. I park as close to the building as possible, making sure that anyone passing the mouth of the alley won’t see Max in the front seat. I rummage around the back seat and find what looks like one of those useful little sleepy shots the bastards stuck me with when they took me from the hotel.
Walking to the back of the car, I open the trunk. Before Dr. Collins can scream, I stab the needle into the side of her neck. She yelps in shock, but sleep drags her under before she can put up a fight. I slam the trunk shut, toss the empty syringe on the floor of the car, and shut the door.
I do my best to run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it down, and pray I don’t look half as wrecked as I feel as I round the building and walk inside through the guest entrance.
Thankfully, the lobby is quiet, not many people milling about. I catch a few worried glances as I hurry to the concierge desk, relief shimmering through me when I recognize one of the fae on Tristan’s staff, who was relatively nice to me.
“Holy shit,” she breathes as I approach.
I skip all formalities. “I need a badge to get to the penthouse.”
She hands one over without hesitation, and I’m not sure if it’s the darkness in my eyes or my disheveled appearance—or both—that stops her from asking questions, but I don’t stick around long enough to consider it.
Inside the elevator, I press the button to the penthouse, smearing blood on it. It could be mine, or it could be Max’s. My stomach churns as I turn away from the panel on the wall, only to catch my ghastly reflection in the mirror. I’m covered in dirt and blood—mostly mine—my hair is a gross mess of tangles, some of which are caked with blood. One side of my face is covered in bruises, probably from hitting the wall. Dried blood runs from a cut on my brow and from my nose.