Page 77 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

His lips tremble. His breath stutters. He tries.

I see him try.

His mouth forms the beginning of a name, his voice barely more than a whisper—

And then he goes still.

His chest—

His chest isn’t moving.

My mind doesn’t register it at first.

I shake him. "Jayden."

Nothing.

I shake him again. "Jayden, goddammit—"

Charles curses. "Boss—"

I roar.

I shove my hands against Jayden’s chest, pressing down, ignoring the fact that I can feel his ribs shifting beneath my palms. "Don’t you fucking die on me, do you hear me?"

Blood.

Too much blood.

His body is limp in my grip, his head rolling slightly to the side, mouth parted.

I don’t stop. I can’t.

I press harder. Again. Again.

Until Charles grabs my wrists, his voice breaking—

"Dominic. He’s gone."

His words hits me like a punch to the gut.

Gone.

The word doesn’t fucking compute.

Jayden.

The kid who used to sneak cigarettes behind the club when he was barely old enough to drive. The same idiot who would crack the dumbest jokes during stakeouts, just to make me laugh. The one who swore he’d get out of this life one day, swore he’d make it home to his wife every night.

And now he’s—

I inhale sharply, my hands still gripping his bloodied shirt, my fingers curled into fists.

Charles doesn’t say anything.

Derik, who stands at the entrance, doesn’t either.

No one does.

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