Page 61 of Thorns from the Fall

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Another problem for another fucking time.

A few minutes later, O’Brien is escorting the unlucky scapegoat outside when I realize I hadn’t kept an eye on Gwyn. I don’t see her in the crowd, but it doesn’t matter.Shedoesn’t matter.

“Where’s Hale?” I ask, and Nico shrugs.

“Probably outside still. He had a phone call, so he waited around the corner where he thought it would be quieter.”

“How many cruisers are out there?”

“Just one and the ambulance. He said he’d keep it low-key. Don’t worry.”

But there’s nothing low-key about the woman’s scream as the first few humans leave the bar. It’s when I realize that it’s Gwyn screaming that my eyes bulge, and I’m moving without thought, not sure what the fuck I’m going to find.

23

GWYN

I didn’t meanto scream. I’ve seen people I love die. I’ve seen strangers die. But I’ve never screamed over death until tonight. Slumped against the wall, a man with light blue eyes stares lifelessly, and I realize it’s Adam. I can’t help the noise that escapes me, and I crumple to my knees.

Because I’m the murderer, and this man was innocent.

There’s blood all over his shirt, staining his palms that rest in his lap. His phone has slid out of his grip, and it begins to ring as I watch, and I feel hollow. The contact photo features a woman with the same blue eyes and dimples, but she’s a little younger than him. A sister, I wonder?

Violently, regret and horror rip up my throat in heaving sobs. I can’t see anything except the lifeless man whose death I caused. I think maybe I’ve blacked out when everything goes dark, but strong arms wrap around me and pull me to my feet. It’s Roman, and nothing is right or fair, but he’s got me, and whatever happens, it’ll all be alright. He’ll either kill me or protect me and I don’t know which I prefer, but I can’t stop the sounds or the pain or the fear or the heartbreak, and I just want it all to go quiet.

I want to go back to a simpler time, but there is no fucking simpler time. There never has been. I was born into something that could never give me a peaceful life. There was never a chance for my dreams or hopes because of what I’ve inherited. Not with my ancestry, not with the choices I’ve been forced to make, not with Roman, not with anyone. Not even by myself.

Because look at what I’ve done, all on my own.

I want things to go dark and quiet, and I want to be alone—forever.

Roman walks me backward, carrying me more than anything, but he keeps me hidden. He keeps me covered. He doesn’t let me see Adam, and I don’t know if it’s intentional or not, but I have to be thankful. If he breaks my neck or throws me to the police or whatever else he might do, I have to be grateful, because it’s what I deserve, but at least I can’t see the evidence of my own desolation.

It’s not my first murder, but it’s the only one I’ve never meant. And it’s so different. So very fucking different. I can’t breathe, and I think maybe Roman’s causing it on purpose. If he squeezes me hard enough, I’ll pass out, even if I won’t die, but goddamn, if only he could end all of this for me. I think he might be the only one of the two of us brave enough to actually fucking do it.

“Get her out of here,” Roman says, and then he’s letting go of me, and I can’t handle it. I don’t want to go. I don’t wanthimto go, and it’s insane, and he fucking hates me, but that’s what I deserve.

In that surety, I can grieve. In that truth, I can find hope in the inevitability of his retribution.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Hale’s voice whispers in my ear, and my sobs renew because I don’t deserve him. I deserve harsh words and vicious fists and instead, the only one who can give that to me tosses me aside. To Hale. To the man who is now avampire, who has lost all his magic because of me, who only got involved with all of this because he loves me, and he’s wrapping me within wiry arms I fear aren’t strong enough to contain everything straining to break free. He’s not big enough to hold me the way I need, his slim frame unable to shut everything out when I crave the dark. “I’ve got you,” he says, and he’s petting my hair as he turns me away from the crowd. It’s growing louder every second, and I have to get out of here, but I can barely walk, can barely stand, can barely exist.

“Carry her,” comes Nico’s voice, and I choke on my reflexive protest when Hale cradles me in his arms with ease, his vampire strength making it possible, and it feels so fucking wrong and strange and awful, and all I want is to die.

But when I close my eyes, I see light blue and dimples and a sister. I see a sister waiting for him to answer the call. She was probably wishing her big brother a happy new year, but I've introduced her to a new hell instead. It will be a year of firsts that all involve a missing piece. Missed birthdays and anniversaries and holidays—each absence that I missed acutely when wading through my own grief.

If only I’d drowned in it.

I turn my head, retching onto the ground because I can’t hold it back.

“Jesus Christ,” Nico says, but I’m in a car a moment later, and the taxi driver is yelling about my puking. Nico barks out a command, and we’re flying through the streets. I don’t know why my consciousness refuses to let go as I curl into my friend’s embrace. Perhaps my own mind knows it would be a kindness I don’t deserve.

I get dizzy despite my closed eyes, and my sobbing turns into something else. Like a sieve, every emotion drains from me slowly, until there’s nothing left.

By the time we get to the compound, I’m a husk of a person.

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