Page 113 of The Final Contract
I shake my head and kiss her, desperate, pouring everything I am into her mouth. “Not without you.” My voice cracks as I press my forehead to hers, holding her close. “When you go, I go,” I whisper into her ear, tears racing down my smoke-stung cheeks.
I clutch her tighter, willing my strength into her frail body, vowing I’ll never let her go. Not here. Not like this.
And then—a crash on the other side of the wall. Another. Louder. Closer.
The wall a few feet away shudders, dust spilling in a cloud. Then the blade of an ax punches through stone and mortar, sparks flying.
Hope surges hot through my veins.
Another ax. And another. Three blades tearing the wall apart from the other side. Lucian. Jaxon. Damien.
“Hold on, angel,” I murmur, cradling her face, forcing her eyes open. “They’re here. I won’t let you go—not now, not when we’re so close.”
Her lashes flutter, her body weakening against me. I pick her up, clutching her tight, whispering into her hair. “Stay with me, baby. Breathe. Just breathe.”
The hole widens with every strike, daylight spilling through in fractured beams.
“Back away!” Jaxon’s voice roars through the smoke.
I turn, shielding her, just as the pew smashes through—ripping the wall wide. Fresh air blasts in, feeding the fire, flames roaring higher, but the hole’s big enough.
I hunch low, shield her with my body, and force us through.
Lucian’s there, his hands gripping my arm, dragging us out. “We’re not dying today.” He says it like he can control it.
Jaxon grabs her legs, easing the weight from me. Damien doesn’t hesitate—he’s already heading for the stairs. “Here!” he shouts.
We run. I stumble, coughing blood, vision blurry, but I keep her in my arms, limp and too quiet. Lucian and Jaxon flank us, half carrying, half dragging me forward.
The stairwell’s a furnace, flames snapping at our backs. Damien carves the path ahead, driving us upward—step after step—until we’re out.
I collapse to my knees on the lawn, still clutching her. Smoke billows black into the sky, the church crumbling behind us, fire lighting the ruins in a hellish glow.
The helicopter’s already there, blades chopping the air, howling over the roar of the fire. It’s how they got to us so fast.
Jax and Lucian haul me to my feet, each gripping an arm. Lucian’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. “Just a little farther, buddy.”
Damien’s already climbing into the cockpit, flipping switches, hands sure and steady. The rotors scream louder, wind blasting the grass flat.
Jax moves in first, arms outstretched to take Seraphina from me. My body revolts. The second I let her go, I nearly break in two. She’s limp. Lifeless. Her eyes closed, skin ghost-pale beneath the soot and blood. My heart stops just looking at her like that.
I scramble in after them—faster than my battered body should allow—and take her back into my arms before I fall apart. I rock her against me, my lips against her hair, words spilling out in low, frantic tones.
“Stay with me, angel. Please, baby—please. I love you. You can’t leave me.” I stroke her matted hair and kiss her temple. “Please don’t leave, angel. I need you.”
“I need you.”
The helicopter lifts—engines screaming, blades hammering the sky as the ruined church burns below us.
And I hold her tighter, praying to gods I don’t believe in that she’s not dead.
Stasia made sure her trauma team was waiting on the helipad. The blades hadn’t even slowed before they were there—scrubs, masks, hands reaching, voices commanding, the urgency sharp and precise.
I stepped out with Seraphina in my arms. Stasia froze—just a beat, just long enough for her face to break wide open. Her entire soul cracked in front of me, shattering as she saw her twin limp in my hold. Pulse there, but weak. So goddamn weak.
She swallowed it down, steel locking over her grief as training took over. “Here—on the stretcher.”
I laid Seraphina down, my hands shaking so bad I nearly missed the rails. Stasia climbed on top without hesitation, sealing an oxygen mask over her mouth, squeezing the bag, forcing air into her lungs.
