Page 54 of Breathe
“It wasn’t supposed to go down this way,” Azrael’s voice shook.
Real ran upward, holding the phone jammed to his ear.
“Az…tell me where you are.”
“Nowhere.” The young man’s voice was low, choked up, and sounded like he was crying. The word came thickly over the phone, and Real’s chest tightened with a sickening feeling that he couldn’t name.
“I fucked up. I didn’t get the job done,” Azrael slurred.
“That doesn’t matter, we’ll get him,” Real said, reaching the floor where Micky had supposedly rented an apartment.
Reaching the apartment door, Real stood to the side of the closed door. He turned the knob and pushed it open. No bullets flew and no bodies charged. A quick search showed it was empty. He returned to the hallway and ran toward the stairwell.
“Azrael,” Real said urgently over the silent phone.
“Why don’t you love me?”
Real’s throat closed, and he bolted down the hallway, reached the stairs, and raced up them.
“I gave you everything,” Azrael whispered.
Reaching the access door, Real shoved it open and stepped out onto the roof. The darkness closed in around him, but he knew Azrael would be either on his way down one way or the other. There were only two fire escapes from the roof.
“I have nothing more to give,” Azrael breathed heavily and Real heard him, not only over the phone, but near the edge of the roof.
Without stopping to think, he hauled ass to where the slender young assassin was sitting on the ground.
Reaching Azrael, Real bent down and lifted the young assassin into his arms.
Azrael fought him.
Real locked his arms tightly around the slender man’s struggling form.
“I hate you!” Azrael spat, fighting like a wild thing.
“I know.” Real’s words came out gruffly because his throat was closing up.
After several moments, Azrael stopped fighting him and lay limply in his arms, exhaustion clearly etched into the young assassin’s face and body.
For a moment, Real sank his fingers into Azrael’s thick, dark hair. Somewhere, the boy had lost his hooded mask, and Real felt the sticky wetness that had to be blood.
Before he could assess Azrael, he had to get them the fuck out of there.
Real shifted Azrael to his back and pulled the boy’s arms around his neck. When Azrael clamped his legs around his hips, Real climbed over the edge of the building and grabbed the fire escape. Azrael clung to him like a spider monkey.
Real moved at top speed downward and leaped to the alleyway below.
Azrael launched from his back, but Real didn’t give the assassin time to run.
He snatched Azrael up and bore him into the night.
Running was no longer an option.
For either of them.
Azrael stood beneath the hot shower in Real’s room. It was one of the Hyatt House rooms Dave had blocked for them.
Apollo was still in the hospital, recovering nicely, but still under watch by the hospital staff. Not to mention a shit ton of guards Dave had posted to make sure Apollo was safe.
