Page 47 of Downfall

And then I see him. His back is to me. He’s lying on his front, his arms sprawled about his head as if the impact threw him out of his seat. As I pause I see him move. The bastard is still alive.

He lets out a groan. His fingertips flicker and his head turns. His eyes make contact with mine and for the briefest of seconds we stare at one another. Me and him. Me and Paris.

I don’t know if he knows who I am. He frowns and then his eyes widen. His pupils dilate.

“Montague…” The word is a mockery on his tongue. A curse too.

I smirk, raising the gun.

He shakes his head. Thankfully he’s not stupid enough to beg. Not that it would help. He was dead the moment I watched him hit her.

Dead the moment I watched him rip her dress off.

Dead.

He just didn’t know it yet.

I pull the trigger. No hesitation this time. No feelings of guilt. No remorse.

It hits square between his eyebrows. A perfect round wound and he slumps back.

Perhaps I should have stretched this out. Hurt him more. He didn’t deserve a quick death. He didn’t deserve such an easy escape. As I lower my gun and click on the safety I hear a noise. It’s quiet.

I glance at the driver. He’s got a nasty gash on his head but I can see his chest rising and falling. If the medics get to him quick enough he’ll make it but I don’t have any real remorse. He knew what Paris was like. He not only turned a blind eye, he helped him when the moment called for it.

But as I turn my eyes register something else. Dark hair. Long dark hair.

No.

No fucking way.

I grab Paris’s great lump of a body and yank it out the way and she’s there, beneath him. He’s been crushing her this whole time.

Her eyes are shut. Her face bruised. She looks almost peaceful except for the livid marks around her throat that I’m certain haven’t come from this crash.

“Rose.” I whisper her name but she doesn’t react.

My fingers find her neck, I search frantically across her soft skin and thank god there’s a pulse. She’s alive.

I pull her up out of the hollow of the car. It’s hard with Paris blocking the way but she’s so limp her body bends to fit the space.

“Roman.” Ben says behind me.

I don’t look back. Not in this moment. My focus is her. What the hell was she doing here? Why was she here? Did she know about the Barn? Was she more involved than I realised?

“Roman we have to leave.” Ben says.

We can hear sirens now. They’re far off. A good few minutes away. We’re not so far from view that someone couldn’t have witnessed this. Couldn’t have seen the crash.

“Roman. For Christ sake listen to me.” Ben snaps, grabbing my arm and yanking so hard I almost drop her.

I snarl back, holding her tighter to me. She feels so light. She feels so broken in my arms. I can smell her hair as the wind flickers it across my face. I can smell her perfume too. It’s light, floral. So many memories come flooding back, so many moments of us, entangled, entwined. I let out a groan before I can stop myself.

But the smell of burning from the car is getting worse. I’m not so sure it’s just the airbags now.

I carry Rose out the way. Carry her to a safe distance and lay her down in the dirt. She must have hit her head though there’s no open wounds. I stare at her face. I want her to wake. I want her to open her eyes and see me.

“Roman we have to go.”

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