Page 34 of Vallaverse: Twist
But it all dies away when the messenger from before taps on my shoulder and hands me a note before walking away. The only sound deafening my ears as I unfold the paper is the heavy thud of my own heart.
If you want him, he's across the street.
Room 347
Better run.
My first instinct is to grab the guy who gave me the note, but he's been swallowed by the crowd. So I run, pushing and shoving people out of my way.
A snarl tears out of me when I explode onto the sidewalk. There are two hotels across the street. She did this on purpose. She knew I could only choose one, and the wrong choice means Laz is gone. I don't know what she's done to him, but I know in my gut that if I choose wrong, I will lose him forever. Guilt makes every breath I take torture as I make my way across the street. No one has left the arena yet, but when people start pouring out of the building, any scent that I might catch will be overpowered. It's probably weak enough as it is.
I go to the hotel on the left first. The group of valet drivers are intelligent enough to get out of my way when I stand in front of the door pulling in deep breaths through my nose. Excruciating seconds tick by, wasted.
There. There he is. I made the right choice, but there's no relief in it. Not yet. The elevator will be too slow, and I still have stairs to climb.
347. Third floor.
I'm not even winded when I get there. I don't have time. The doors and numbers blur together as I sprint past them looking for those three specific numbers.
There.
Of course the door is locked. It's nothing but a barrier, and I smash through it without blinking. I halfway expected a room full of people waiting for me, but there's nothing inside this room but the sour scent of trauma. Instinctively, I know Laz will be in the farthest room from the entrance, so I go there.
He's on the floor in front of the closet—a crumpled pile of skin and bones and labored breathing.
“Laz,” I call his name softly, urgently.
He doesn't move.
I drop to my knees beside him. “Laz!” I call again, louder, and turn him onto his back.
Nothing.
“Lazarus!” I scream and gather him to me.
He's covered in scrapes and bruises, but I can't concentrate on them, not when I notice the discarded tourniquet on the floor where he was lying.
I scream his name again and again, shaking him, but the only response I get from him is a flutter of lashes.
I should have come sooner. I should have come for him weeks ago. Days ago. Just a few hours sooner. If I had... I let loose a furious roar, but it dies in a wail of torment and loss. I should have come sooner. He's mine. He's always been mine, and I can't lose him like this.
No.
I refuse.
I won't let him go.
I have to try.
He can forgive me when he wakes up. If he wakes up.
When. When he wakes up.When.
I cradle him against me and tip his head back and to the side. The shoulder will work.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper against his skin, then I sink my teeth into him.
Chapter Sixteen
