Page 57 of Dead By Dusk

“Sunrise is long gone. Nathaniel and Adonis with it. We’re most likely on our own, so make yourself useful and help me back up onto the roof. I’ll get something you can use to climb after,” I say haughtily. His laughter fills the space around me. I can’t help the smile that forms upon my lips, mirroring his amusement.

“If you have a plan, why don’t we just go to one of the tunnel entrances into the woods?” he asks through bouts of laughter as he clutches his stomach and runs his fingers through his hair. My eyes trace every movement he makes, enjoying that he feels a little more like himself, a quality I need from him at the moment to help keep me moving. It’s a gentle yet painful reminder of thepromise I had made to Carmen before she took her last breath, and even though it still hurts every time my heart beats, I know I cannot fulfill her promise without avenging her. And I don’t think I can keep moving without this man that wholly believes in all I am to remind me that there’s something after this ends.

Should I survive, I still have him.

Always.

“Si?” His voice breaks me from my train of thought and forces a tight lipped smile from me.

“Because we need to know exactly where we’re going if we’re going to do this. I need another look at the map.” He shakes his head before squatting down low and weaving his fingers together, forming a space for my foot to step into.

“As you wish, Killer,” he says, smirking and waiting for me to move. I place my hands on my waist, cocking my hip to one side, debating if I should question him further. Ask if my every demand is his wish to fulfill. Maybe when this is all said and done, I can ask him and see if he’d get on his knees for me with one simple command. But right now, I need to focus and not delay the inevitable journey back inside the house. The knowledge that my feet don’t rest on solid ground has my hands sweating and throat constricting.

My stomach drops at the thought, and I have to force myself to push away the anxiety.

“Come on, Si. Don’t let your fear guide you. You can’t hold onto it forever,” he says, and I can’t help but force my attention back to the man in front of me, patiently waiting. The man who has said this to me before and unknowingly helped me find my way down on the first day we woke here.

Dropping my hands from my waist and placing them on his shoulders, I place my foot in his hold. With far too much ease, he lifts my body above his head, my chest easily the same height as the roof, making it easy to pull myself up. It took no more than aminute—the whole process—but not for a second did I have fear. Once I was in his hands, there was no moment that I worried I would fall. Not because I trusted myself to hold on, but because I knew he would always catch me in my fall.

“Alright, I’ll be right back. I just have to get one of the curtains from downstairs, and I’ll tie it to one of the bed sheets. That should be long enough to tie around a spike and reach you,” I call down to him. He winks, crossing his arms over his broad chest and nods at me as I turn around and rush to the window.

I tell myself he’ll be fine by himself, that he’ll pick up the weapons he left discarded on the ground and wait for me. He can defend himself just fine. But as I’m rushing down the steps of the house, I can’t help but feel unnerved. My chest tightens as I hear muffled voices come from outside of the house, too far away for me to reach him, and next thing I know, I’m running back up the stairs with the long cloth dragging behind me.

When I get back to the window and look around the field, I don’t see him. His weapons still lay haphazardly on the ground, but there’s nohim.My hands tighten around the fabric in my hand, wringing it out as I bend my body through the hole.

“Ronan!” I call out, my voice carrying further than I thought possible. He doesn’t answer. I cautiously step down the slope of the roof, looking around the expanse of land that now feels as if it extends forever.

“Ronan!” I call out again, but still, no response. No other voice than the sound of my own taunting me with the name of the man who was here just a few minutes ago waiting for me.

He’s gone.

Panic tries to take control of me, but I reign my emotions in and remind myself to breathe as Ronan always does while I tie the cloth to one of the large metal spikes. I pull, putting as much of my weight against it as I can to make sure it will hold beforethrowing it over the side and ensuring it’s long enough for me to reach. Once I’m sure it is, I do what I did six days ago.

I jump.

Once I’m steady on the ground, I’m checking the immediate surroundings of the house. There’s no sign of struggle, no red covering the green grass beneath my feet. But as I turn the final corner, it’s obvious he is no longer here.

Someone else has taken his place as I feel a blade on the skin of my neck. There’s enough pressure for me to know that with one small movement, it will slice my skin.

“Don’t move. I’ve come to take you back, dead or alive.” A laugh tears through me as something in me snaps. I move forward just enough for the blade to pierce the skin of my neck and feel the warmth of my blood flow freely down my chest. The wound isn’t deep enough to kill, but it’s definitely enough to throw him off track. And when my laughter dies, I say the one thing he should know before he dies in a cold, detached tone as my hand slowly moves to one of the daggers at my side.

“A smart man would’ve just gone for the kill.”

For a moment I feel the way he tries to deepen the wound, making for an easy death, but he’s not fast enough as I swipe my blade across my chest and let it sink into the skin just below his elbow, and then tear through veins and tendons as I drag the blade all the way down to his wrist.

He drops his weapon, backstepping away from me as I begin to laugh again before dragging two of my fingers across the dagger, clearing it of his blood. He wears a prominent scowl on his tanned, aged face. He’s examining the wound, undoubtedly noting it’s not deep enough for a quick death, but one that will be slow and painful if not treated soon. He isn’t deterred though. It instead seems as if the promise of death only compels him forward.

One last job well done, I suppose. If he’s going to die, he wants to do so fulfilling his purpose. It’s almost admirable when he pulls another blade out and readies it in his grip.

Almost.

We rush toward each other, each carrying our respective weapons in our hands. He is the first to throw out his arm, attempting to easily slash my neck, but I crouch low, making the same motion he did, catching one of his shins in the process. A deep, pained grunt fills the air as he kicks out my leg from underneath me.

I roll away from where I fall just in time to evade the impact of his dark leather boot stomping into my head, but not quick enough. I release a loud yelp at the painful pull that results from the pressure on my hair and roll back to where he stands, shoving my blade into his calve and twisting it.

He collapses, and as I rip my knife from his leg, dark red blood oozes from the gaping wound. An unfeeling smile forms on my lips as I crawl onto his body and sit at his waist.

I drag my blade across the man’s neck, watching as skin breaks and warm blood bursts over my hand indicating I had hit a vein. I wasn’t planning on the cut being as deep as it was, but I can’t bring myself to care the way that I knew I should at the moment. Instead, I just let my hand cover the length of his neck and feel the haphazard beating of his heart beneath my fingertips, and let a crazed smile grow on my face. I grip the handle of the dagger so tightly that my knuckles begin to turn white as I force myself to focus.

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