Page 48 of Montana Falls
Lincoln and I hurried, our footsteps loud against the rubble. John saw us coming and did his best to run, but he didn’t have anywhere left to go. He tried to duck behind another section of what was left of the precarious scaffolding, but we were faster, cutting him off from both sides when we began our climb.
I hated climbing, but for this? It was worth it. The workout I’d been part of today was going to be the best one I ever had. Even with the added harsh rain and dull, dark sky.
“Why are you running, John?” I called, my voice like a song as my hair was quickly plastered to my face. “You’re not afraid of dying, are you?”
“I don’t fear you.” He scoffed as he vanished behind a piece of tarp, and I hurried to gain purchase on a piece of the wooden platform until I could pull myself upright and stand.
“Why not? I’m the one ruining your life.”
There was a creak behind me and I span on my heel as John lunged at me, swinging wildly with desperation. I dodged to the side, feeling the wind from his fist, as it barely missed my face.
We repeated the fight we’d had not so long ago, only this time he didn’t have the upper hand. I did. And I made real good fucking use of it.
Before I grabbed my gun, I moved in, throwing a punch at his side. He grunted in pain but managed to twist out of the way for just a moment. He swung at me again, and this time his fist connected, hitting me in the shoulder and sending a sharp pain shooting through my arm. But I didn’t back down. The rush of adrenaline drowned out the pain, and I grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against the nearest section of crumbling brick, hard enough that I hoped he saw stars.
“You fuckin’ bitch.” He blinked through his daze, and I knew I only had a second to act.
Huffing, I pulled my gun out of the back of my jeans, finger aiming for the trigger, ready to blow his brains out and laugh…
Only the ground beneath us shifted, a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. I knew the ruins were old, unstable, and the recent explosions had probably weakened the structure even more. A part of me registered that I’d fucked up the scaffolding we fought on with my bombs and fighting, too.
I hadn’t really thought about it collapsing, though.
Before I could react, the ground gave way beneath my feet, crumbling in an instant. I felt the world tilt, my stomach dropping as I slipped, and John came with me, my gun going flying. The splintered edge of the ruined plank cracked even further, and I was falling faster than I could stop, the air rushing past me. Panic – a mild bout of disgust at myself - surged through me, but before I could scream, I felt a hand clamp around my wrist.
Lincoln.
His grip was iron-tight as he stopped me from plummeting to my doom like a fool and hauled me back up with a curse.
“I’ve got you, princess.” He promised, pulling me up onto solid ground. Or as solid as another wooden plank could be.
“Fuck, bunny.” My heart was racing, my breath coming in quick gasps as I scrambled to my feet, my hands shaking. “Have you got a kink for heroism?”
“Only when it’s for you.” He kissed me hard and fast, before nudging his chin over the edge of our platform. “I couldn’t let my girl die in such a terrible Telenovela way. You’d never forgive me for it.”
I looked down to where he pointed, my stomach flipping as I saw John’s messed up form. He’d gone tumbling down through the scaffolding, his body looking like it had been bounced off every sharp object in sight until he’d hit the ground with asickening thud, his body nearly motionless among the rubble except for one tiny thing.
He’s landed on a piece of metal bar. Something from inside one of the broken walls.
Something that now protruded from his chest, making blood spurt out of him in bright splashes of red that should have made me far more spitefully happy than I felt.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the weight of what had just happened sinking in. Then Lincoln’s grip on me loosened, and I staggered back, still breathing hard and shaking.
“You okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, his voice rough but steady.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… just fine. Nothing hurts too bad.”
My voice sounded funny, and I had no idea why.
Lincoln glanced at me; his expression unreadable. “I’ll go down and check he’s dead, then. You get Caro’s cleaner’s here and then come follow; but be extra careful.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I let out a long, shaky breath, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. The thrill of the fight had been snatched away from me as quickly as the floor had, for one unchangeable reason.
The motherfucker had just taken the easy way out.
John had gone and died in a fuckingaccidentand not when I brutally murdered him or after months of torture.
“He’s alive still!” Lincoln shouted, a second after he got to the body, and I hurried to peer down towards him, as I pulled my phone out to send a quick text to Caro that he instantly responded to.
