Page 65 of In the Grey of Dawn

I say in rapid succession. The words come out without restraint as I feel for his pulse. “Please be alive, baby.Please.”

We’re shrouded in light as a single overhead bulb turns on, but I barely have time to take note of the darkness that now surrounds us. I can’t see anything past the ring of light we’re now in. A hand comes out of the shadows, yanking Porter's head back by the scruff of his hair. Another disembodied arm comes out of the dark, the faint drag of bright orange disappearing as it flashes past my head.

Stumbling back from the shock of the arms, I can see a blue cap exposed out of the end of the fist now.

Is that an EpiPen sticking into Porter’s chest?

“No, no, no, no.”

The words repeat over and over, spilling from my mouth without reason, as a man with grown out, bleach blond hair and a Cheshire cat grin steps into the light.

Tristan.

He lets go of the EpiPen still hanging from Porter's chest as it dangles loosely, all of the adrenaline now pumping around Porter's body. It feels like forever has passed as I flick my gaze between Porter and Tristen. Needing to keep eyes on both of them for different reasons. Suddenly, Porter jerks in his seat, his bound limbs straining for a moment before he takes large gasps of air, rapidly scanning all around us, trying to take everything in as he searches the room, stopping when he sees me sitting on the floor in front of him.

“Baby?” he murmurs.

His eyes soften in the light before the glint of metal diverts my gaze and desperation creeps in.

Tristan holds a knife to Porter's wrist, cutting the cable ties keeping it in place. I follow the jagged movements as Porter tries and fails to move his free arm. The low chuckle fromTristan cuts through the still air as he looks down at Porter, unable to hide the satisfaction sitting proudly on his face.

“Just imagine all of the things I'm going to do to her as you bleed out like the other one did.” He whispers into Porter's ear as he stabs the tip of the knife into his wrist, dragging it up the inside of his arm to his elbow.

A roar erupts from Porter, a last stand to try and fight back. To keep me safe. But I can barely make out the words as a booming noise explodes from outside.

It’s like a hurricane.

The blood rushes to my ears as the faint sound of Porter screamingrunto me barely registers. Tristan's panicked face searches the space around us as the sound grows louder but I don't have time to care about what is happening outside. This is my opportunity to fight back, the gods have given me a distraction and I will use it to my advantage.

Scrambling to my feet I can see the pulse of blood spurting out of his arm.

His artery.

“No, no, no, no.”

I breathe the words, knowing I have to stop this somehow. Taking note of Tristan standing several feet from us. He's taken a chair and is struggling to look out of one of the high windows, trying to make sense of the sudden storm outside no doubt. The wind howls stronger and the main door starts to rattle but it is all background noise to me.

My priority is Porter. Not the raging storm outside, not Tristan panicking by the window.

Porter.

Wasting no time, I begin to dig my fingers into his arm, looking for the soft pulse of blood from his severed artery.

I need to find it.

I have to find it.

“No, no, no. Porter, don't you dare fucking die on me,” I cry out to no one.

Please gods, if you're there.

Help me some more.

I love him.

I can't find it, fuck, I can't find it. No, no, no, I have to find it. It's been maybe ten seconds and Porter's head flops back, his eyes content as he takes me in. The wind is thrashing outside, glasses rattle as the main door swings violently and amongst it all, he stares at me. I take a second to breathe and collect my emotions as I try to get a hold of the situation. Pulling at his belt, I struggle to get it loose because my hands are too slippery.

I can't pull it free.

---