Page 59 of What Doesn't Kill Us

I kneel beside her. She’s face down, sprawled awkwardly on top of jackoff, who is splattered all over the pavement.

There’s a deep, guttural vibration coming from deep in my chest, and even knowing it’s coming from my body, it sounds completely foreign to me.

I put my hands out to touch her, but then Tony is there, pulling me back. I fight against his hold, trying to claw my way back to her, but then I hear him yelling in my ear that it’s not over. It’s not over. It’s not over.

Matt motions to us, but I can’t hear his words through the roaring in my ears, the sound of my blood pumping through my veins, the beast inside me thrashing to be set free.

I push it down, giving my head a severe shake as I once again attempt to reel myself in, to gain control over my actions and reactions.

Tony must sense it because he releases me, and we move closer to her as Matt motions us over. Tony helps Matt carefully flip her over, then shift her until she’s reclining on me, her back to my front, her head supported on my shoulder.

She’s lifeless, but I allow myself a tiny moment of relief to see her eyes are closed rather than half-open and vacant. It’s still pouring down rain, and she’s so beat up it’s hard to tell if it’s from before the fall or after.

Matt’s voice is yelling directly into my ear, dragging my attention from her face, and I stare up at him, frowning in confusion at his words.

I blink a few times, allowing the words to sink in, but I don’t dare hear him. He tries again, this time grasping my face in his two hands and yelling it directly into my face. “She’s alive.”

Our medics are on the way.

I’m not sure how long I sit there cradling her against me before the van shows up and the medic team descends upon us, and Tony has to hold me back when they attempt to take her from me. I know I’m acting unreasonable, irrational even, but this deep fear in me is blinding, driving me mad.

I finally rise from the ground, watching as they work on her, securing her to a backboard and eventually lifting her into the back of the van. I turn to Tony, saying, “You make certain that fucker never breathes again.”

He nods, knowing the drill. “I got this. Go.”

I nod to him and then to Matt. Then I bang my hand on the side of the van, letting the driver know it’s time to move, and shut myself inside.

Chapter Twenty-One

Toni

It’sincrediblehowclearlyyou see things once the fog settles.

It’s like having your eyesight checked when the doctor puts those blurred lenses in front of you, clicking buttons until suddenly your vision becomes clear. Unbeknownst to me, some of my memories had a blurry filter over them, and now that everything is put into its proper place, I can see everything clearly again.

Even the memories I had that I felt were clear and accurate clicked into place and, with those clicks, spun reality. I’m shocked by how many of these so-called memories were cued by other people with only a few words. How many of these distorted recollections were put into place so I would see a narrative that was not my own? So, the bones of my memories in that warehouse were true, but the many layers of the memory were hidden.

I was the enemy.

They sent me on a mission to take down a beast, and I came close to accomplishing the job, but I threw the fight. I was compromised, no longer adhering to family loyalty, obligation, and the job.

It’s like a veil lifting from my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I can see clearly how much I’ve been manipulated. How they broke me down just so they could try to rebuild me back up in their own image.

The fact I haven’t spoken freely to Darius about any of it weighs heavily on me. Between our revelation and my being taken, there hadn’t been enough time. Hindsight being what it is, we should’ve taken the time, but we gave in to our wants and allowed ourselves to revel in the short-lived bubble around us.

All I can do is take comfort in the fact it isn’t over. There’s still time.

The last known location for Darius is a shipyard in Spain. So many ships go in and out of that port that it’s nearly impossible to determine which one he ended up on. Matt said that once they put him on board the ship, it’s likely he was put into a secure container, which means the signal wouldn’t be strong enough to ping.

Agatha’s men have also had little success in pinpointing her. Matt got in touch with them while I was comatose. I still get some amusement from the fact that we’re micro-chipped like dogs, but given the number of times this has become useful, I’m resigned to keeping it that way.

Of course, there’s also the chance that they tossed his watch overboard, but it’s more likely somebody would try to steal and keep it. I’ve got good taste, after all.

Now, we’re coming into our third day here with no sign of them, and all of us are getting discouraged. My bullet wound is healing well, or as well as expected. It wouldn’t be ideal for me to overdo it, but I’d live if I had to.

I finally get myself out of bed and cleaned up, and I’m just finishing putting a clean dressing on both sides of my wound when I hear Matt yelling in the living room. I rush out there, where he has a mini-recon station set up, and he’s pointing toward his monitor. “We got him.”

There’s a knock on the door, and I move to open it, but Tony gets in my way, shaking his head. I allow him to take the lead, and standing on the other side of the door are two of Agatha’s men, one of them holding up a hand device. “We got her.”

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