Page 70 of Shattered

“BB for fucking life, Bex. For life!” I scream, my voice cracking. “This isn’t life, Bex. Wake the fuck up. You owe me at least another sixty years.”

My resolve crumbles, muscles turning to lead as I continue pressing down on his chest. Each compression feels like a desperate plea to the universe, bargaining for more time. But Bexley remains immovable.

“Remember when Mom told us once that after we were born, they placed us down next to each other. The first thing I did was turn my head to look at you and smiled? Five minutes old and all it took was one glance at you and I was content already. That still hasn’t changed Bex.” Sobs rack my body.

“Blink three times, please. Blink three times and let me know you’re OK,” I weep.

A gentle tug on my arm interrupts my frantic rhythm. A lady, her face blurred by my tears, pulls me away. My hands lose contact with Bexley’s chest, and I watch as others sweep in, taking over. They surround him, taking over from my trembling desperation. Time hangs suspended, and I’m caught between disbelief and anguish. Bexley—my brother, my partner in mischief, my fucking twin—lies there, lifeless. The room pulses with urgency, but my world narrows to that unmoving form.

I whisper it again, a fragile chant: “Wake up, Bex. Please, wake up.” But the silence mocks me, echoing through the shattered pieces of my heart.

“Bray.” I hear Kal and Tray’s voices, their tear-streaked faces etching pain into my soul. They stand in the doorway of our bedroom, where Bexley lies on the bed, surrounded by paramedics. Daxton retreats, fading into shadows. My legs waver, threatening to collapse, but Kal and Tray rush to my side. Their arms envelop me, holding me upright as my world crumbles. I bury my face in their chests, sobs racking my body.

“Please, Bexley,” I whisper, my voice raw. “Come back.” Over their shoulders, I glimpse the paramedics—desperate, skilled, repeating the motions I’d attempted. But Bexley remains still. Time stretches, a cruel elastic, and I cling to hope, even as it slips through my trembling fingers. He’s still not moving.

“We got you, Bray.” Kal’s voice brushes against my ear. I watch as the paramedics falter, their movements suspended in cruel stillness. My world grinds to a halt alongside them. The lady who pulled me away—her eyes, brimming with sympathy, lock onto mine. She doesn’t need to say it. He’s gone. I sensed it the moment I stepped into this room. His soul, once tied to my life, has slipped away.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice weighted with sorrow.

“We did everything we could. And so did you.” Her eyes squint as if it physically pains her to say the next two words. “He’s gone.”

The world around me crumbles, surrounded by flames.

My brother, my twin, my best friend, is gone. In that burning moment, I realize life holds no purpose without him.

Chapter thirty-seven

Bohdi

Ifind myself frowning at my phone, baffled by Brayden’s radio silence. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts all day, and it’s unnerving. He was supposed to meet with Bexley yesterday to discuss what I mentioned, but there’s been no word. I’ve searched the campus, but neither Brayden, Kal, nor Tray is in sight. Perhaps they’re caught up in extra training?

As the minutes tick by, anticipation builds. Class is about to start. Could Brayden have confided in Bexley, only for things to go wrong? My pen taps nervously against the desk, and I fixate on the door, waiting for answers. But as more students file in, Brayden remains noticeably absent.

A sinking feeling settles in my gut. Is he struggling with the weight of saying he loves me? Even though he made it pretty clear, he didn’t mean it. My phone jolts to life, Denny’s name flashing across the screen. But there’s no time. I’ll call him later. I silence the phone, tucking it into my desk drawer. A quick check after Denny’s call ends reveals nothing from Brayden—notext, no missed call. Silence hangs heavy, a dark weight in the air.

Then Daxton enters, his posture defeated, head bowed lower than I’ve ever seen. He bypasses his own desk, heading straight for mine. When he looks up, his eyes are a raw, swollen mess, bloodshot and half-closed. I recognize that look—it’s etched in my memory, the aftermath of nights spent crying yourself to sleep. Something has shattered.

“Daxton,” I choke out, my voice strained. “What’s happened? Where’s Brayden?” My heart races, and swallowing becomes a struggle. Daxton’s trembling lip betrays him. His gaze flits between mine, and then the wall breaks. Sobs rack his body, shoulders convulsing.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, voice cracking.

I grip his shoulder, desperation rising. “Where is Brayden?” The room tilts, and everything inside me plummets.

“You. You fucking piece of shit!” A primal roar pierces the air, and suddenly, Daxton is no longer in front of me but sprawled on the floor, a fist having collided with his face. The violence unfolds in a blur. I can’t process it immediately.

Trayton jumps over Daxton, raining blows upon him, while Kal remains frozen, a marble statue caught in an out-of-body trance. For a heartbeat, I’m paralyzed too, shock gripping me. Then reality snaps back.

“Trayton!” My voice echoes through the silence as I stride around my desk, seizing him by the back of his sweater. “Explain what the hell is going on!”

The class holds its breath, and nausea churns within me. My mind races through countless scenarios. “Where is Brayden?” I grit, not caring as Daxton lies on the floor beneath my feet, blood all over his face. But he just stares up at Trayton who takes uncontrolled gasps, while gritting his teeth down at Daxton.

“Where’s Brayden?” I shout again, my concern overwhelming me. Trayton’s eyes remain fixed on Daxton.

“Ask him,” Trayton spits, physically directing his disdain at Daxton. “He’s the cause. Him and his junky family.”

My resolve snaps. “Take yourself to the dean, right this instant!” I bellow in Trayton’s face.

“You’re as good as dead, Rivers.” Trayton’s parting glare at Daxton lingers in the room as he exits. I snatch tissues from my desk, offering them to Daxton. He stares blankly, shaking his head. My focus shifts to Kal, desperation etched across my face.

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