Page 81 of The Devils of Saint City

There’s so much blood, and yet at the same time, not enough. I’m angry Julian didn’t suffer more for putting his hands on our girl, but with how many bullets he took, at least now we know he’ll never touch her again.

At least we got to start low, blowing out both of his kneecaps so all he could do was lay there and cry, but when the next bullet hit him in his thigh, I knew the timer was going. Manson put two in his stomach for good measure, and I kneeled down so I could watch the light leave his eyes and remind him that he was all alone in his last moments.

I was the last thing he ever saw just like I promised him I would be, and he has no one to blame but himself. He should have chosen to live, instead he chose this.

“I wish I could bring him back to life so we could kill him twice.”

Manson grunts out a “Slower next time.”

Yeah, we’re on the same page. We usually are, and even though we’re half joking because it’s impossible, we both know we’d do it if we could. There’s a veil of anxiety in his hazel eyes for our girl and I don’t have to wonder if mine have the same. It’s been there since we set her free, and this event has only made it worse. Who knew she’d be safer by my side, the one she’s always seen as a devil.

“She’s going to come home,” I say more confidently than I feel. “She has to know we’d do anything for her now.”

He nods, but his breathing is growing heavier and heavier with each passing second so I back him against the wall and grip his face. It seems like the more often we have to take lives, themore often one of us has to be pulled back from the ledge, but this time is different. “Hey,” I say softly, making him meet my gaze. “We had to do this.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course we did. I don’t regret it.”

“I know. It’s okay to not be okay though. Maybe...” I don’t know what I’m trying to get at. Maybe we should take a break? Maybe we should quit? Maybe we should kill the Provost? Maybe we should start over? Maybe we should just go steal our girl back? Maybe all of the above. Fuck. I don’t think this life is for us anymore, and I don’t know what to do about that. Who are we if not this?

Apparently it’s me who’s spiraling now and Manson pulls me into a hug I didn’t anticipate. We stand there next to a dead body embracing until my phone vibrates with a text message, the intrusion snapping us out of whatever the fuck that was so we can check on our girl.

Blair:Home

Immediately, I call her, angry when she presses ignore on the second ring, and even sooner on the next. “Fucking bitch,” I hiss, moving away from Manson’s touch before he can give me comfort.

“She’s okay. Blair wouldn’t lie.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t she answer?”

Manson shrugs. “Let’s just clean this shit up so we can go wait for our girl.”

If she was coming home, why would Blair forward me to voicemail? It doesn’t make sense, but I nod anyway and focus on the task at hand. We’ll have our answer soon enough.

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It takes us three hours to get back home, deflating slightly when we walk into an empty house with no sign of her. But once we confirm her location and sit down to check on the camera, all ofour hope dissipates as if it never existed at all. She’s lying in her bed, the space around her untouched like packing wasn’t even an afterthought, and it’s that moment I know we’ve lost her.

She isn’t coming home.

Without a word, I disappear into the shower to scrub my skin raw, the scent of blood haunting me and the absence of her weighing me down until I’m unsure of what to do with myself.

There’s no one to blame but me. Manson was right, if we would have kept her and let our love grow on its own, she would have eventually chosen us over everything, but instead she’s now imagining a life where we don’t exist.

Part of me hopes she finds it. She’s better off without me looming in her shadows, and I don’t deserve even a piece of her heart. But Manson is different, he does deserve her, and if I was out of the way they might have really found something beautiful. It’s not the first time I’ve considered ending it all, but it is the first time since she came back into my life. I don’t know what that says about me or this situation, but I think it’s time I finally accept that I don't want to live without her. I just fucking don’t.

“Ash,” Manson says from the door I apparently forgot to lock. “Can I come in?”

No, but he’s going to come in regardless, the question was just a formality. “Okay.”

He doesn’t say anything else until he’s sitting on the shower floor with me, him fully clothed and me stark naked with my arms wrapped around my legs, and somehow I know he knows. He always does. “We can’t give up now.”

“Why not?” I ask, meeting his eyes challengingly. “Have I not been through enough?”

“Because what if she comes home? If you quit I quit, and that leaves her alone.”

She’s got Blair now, but he doesn’t need me to remind him of that. His guilt trip does its job anyway, because I’m alreadyat fault for why his life is the way it is, I won’t be the cause of his death. Not intentionally. “So what do we do now? ‘Cause I’m struggling to see tomorrow, Manson.”

Sighing, he moves a little closer not caring at all when it only soaks him more. “We need to sort this shit with the Provost, Ash. Either Julian went behind his back or something much worse is coming our way, and regardless, we need to get in contact with him and make sure Rhea is safe. Maybe we can have Blair talk to Daddy too. We have work to do and no time to die, got it?”

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