Page 115 of Ravaged Saints

They both laugh. Something inside me snaps.

I move.

My fingers curl around the gun on the man’s belt. I rip it free and pull the trigger.

Bang.

He crumples.

Aspen.

The man holding her. I raise the gun—shoot.

Bang.

He staggers, pants still down. He falls and doesn’t move.

“Bitch!” Ethan roars.

“Aspen, run!” I scream.

She darts forward. I follow—

I try to go as fast as I can. I see her darting to the woods, men screaming behind us. I had a deal with Ethan. I would help and would keep us both safe, but I already knew he would not keep his end of the deal.

Bang!

A sharp, tearing pain rips through me, and a chill runs down my spine.

“No! Bryn!” Aspen screams, and I try to keep running, but my legs give out.

The ground rises to meet me.

Aspen’s scream cuts through the ringing in my ears. “Bryn!”

I lift my head, my vision swimming. “Run, Aspen!” I order, but she runs back to me. She pulls me up as her tears hit my face.

“Oh my God, Bryn,” Her hand is covered in blood, my blood.

“You—” I feel my eyes heavy, my mouth dry, “need to run, please, for me—”

“Bryn, please, you can’t leave me, not like this.” She sobs, and I caress her hair, my eyes closing.

“I’m sorry. Aspen—”

I can’t open my eyes.

"One less bitch to worry about." The words cut through the haze, laced with cruel satisfaction.

"No, let her go! Don’t fucking touch her!" Aspen’s scream splinters through the air, raw and frantic. I want to reach for her, to move—but I’m locked inside my own body.

My breaths grow shallow, uneven. Slower. Too slow.

“Is she dead?” Ethan’s words float somewhere beyond the thick, creeping darkness.

“Almost.”

Numbness spreads, cold and insidious, sinking into my bones like ice water filling my veins. My thoughts splinter, breaking apart like ash carried off by the wind.

---