Page 255 of Like Grim Death: Part One
Bile burns up my throat and I know Ishouldsit back down. Get a hold of myself before I step through that door and find the source of the noise—lower now, I can’t even hear it over the pain screaming inside my ears—but I’m not going to.
Not until I find Ella.
I take a struggling breath, blinking my working eye over and over to clear my vision faster. Then I snatch open the drawer on my nightstand and pull my gun from it, but I don’t place my finger over the trigger. Fear haunts me, I’m not in control right now, and if I accidentally fired this and shot someone I shouldn’t…
Maybe the noise was nothing.
The washer or dryer, because there’s one in the penthouse. Maybe the dishwasher, because Ella would certainly run that and she’s probably in the kitchen right now.
But I don’t put the gun away and I don’t stop moving on slow, faltering steps toward the door opposite my bed. My bare feet connect with the cold hardwoods, and I glance down, grateful I’m in basketball shorts, but I would have no problem walking out of this room naked to find my girl.
The noise kicks up again.
It clenches around my heart, the way it sounds like a cry for help. I think I hear it, even, a jagged whisper.
“Help me, Mavy. Help.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from responding. It could be a trick, some deceit, and I won’t know until I open the white door ahead of me.
I keep moving, blood pounding in my ears.
And above the noise, there’s something else too.
The sound of footsteps. Hurrying though, not hiding. Multiple ones. My chest heaves, every expansion painful, every inhale torturous, but I compartmentalize the pain and I keep moving.
A low hiss outside of my bedroom, like someone sucking in air.
Panic fills my veins.I’m running after Malachi, and I push him, and I save him, and Ikill him.
My fingers come to the heavy silver knob.
I twist it open, cool air gushing against my exposed body, small motion lights flickered on in the wide hallway with gilded golden walls.
A crowd of people, most of their backs to me.
I notice Atlas, Cain, Ezra, all lookingdown, down, down.At something I can’t see.
I can’t see it.
The sniffing sound. A strangled sob.
“Mavy, help me.”
I’m going to pass out, but I fight through it, gun in hand as I shove Atlas out of my way, pushing him into Cain but I don’t care.
And there she is.
Crumpled on the floor,there she is.
She’s on her knees, but bowed over, a white T-shirt of mine over her body, long red hair down her back, damp with what might be sweat. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her cheek pressed to the golden runner of carpet cutting over the dark hardwoods.
Her face is ashen, almost yellow. Discolored.
There’s a puddle of something that looks like bile by her mouth, strings of it sticking to her lips.
My brothers back up, plenty of space for all of us in the corridor. They give me room to take in the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The most heartbreaking sight in a lifetime of horror.
“Mavy,”she whispers, a trembling to her words, but it’s like she’s trying to be so brave. “Mavy.”
