Page 2 of Victorious: Part 2
Maverick is lashed to the president’s chair, South’s eyes wide, his fingers pressed to my brother’s stomach as Maverick’s intestines slip through South’s fingers while he frantically tries to hold them in.
And over it all, a scream, a plea.
“Clover!” Maverick whimpers, his terrified eyes finding mine.
The metallic tang of blood chokes me. It coats my tongue, my teeth.
It’s a vision.
A nightmare.
A psychic gutting.
But it feels real.So fucking real.
My family. My club. My blood.
All of them are broken.
But I’m the one who left.
Haven’s hand reaches out from behind the Chapel door, her fingers trembling, her skin flayed raw.
“C-Clover,” she whispers, just like our brother before her. Then her lips stop moving. Her eyes vacant, her final breath leaves her, and I choke on a sob.
My body shakes violently, the scream clawing its way up my throat burns like acid.
Like punishment.
I did this.
I let them die.
“Clover!”
My siblings are calling me again.
“Clover!”
Clenching my eyes tighter, I try hard to reach for them, my breathing racing so fast as they move farther and farther from sight.
“Clo!”The voice shatters everything, as rough hands grab me. Their grip is strong, anchoring.
Real.
My eyes snap open, my vision blurs, but I feel it. The weight of Phoenix’s palms cupping my face, the heat of his body crowding mine. “Clover, breathe. Jesus, look at me.” His intense blue eyes meet mine, and somehow, the vision stutters. The reality fractures, and for one awful, soul-tearing second, I don’t know if I’m still trapped in it, or if Phoenix is dead, too, and I’m hallucinating him back to life.
But then I see his eyes—wild, angry, scared.
I gasp, dragging in a much-needed breath that tastes like leather, sweat, and salvation, and suddenly, I’m here.
Not in the Chapel.
Not covered in blood.
But back in the desert at the abandoned waterpark, sitting on the sand.
Phoenix pulls me in, my face crushed to his chest, his heartbeat a drum against my cheek.
