Page 100 of Our Little Monster
Nox's knuckles were white on the wheel, Thorne stared blankly ahead, and I… I drowned in thoughts of Serina, her smile at Mickey's, her laughter echoing in my memory. It was those fragments of light, moments of pure, untainted life, that we wanted to fight for. That we’d wanted to protect.
As Nox threw the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screeched a protest that mirrored the scream inside my own chest.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, the word barely a whisper, but it echoed loudly in the confined space.
We were too late. The cold truth settled in my chest like a stone. We had failed.
I closed my eyes, leaning back against the seat, the leather cool despite the heat emanating from my body. We’d been reporting her movements to Victor for months, not by choice, but because we had to.
Yet some details, some moments of her life, we had managed to keep hidden from his prying eyes in recent weeks from the vervain.
It hadn't been enough to save her, though.
Now, she was dead… and her blood was on our hands.
“Bas?” Thorne's voice cut through the quiet, tentative and filled with a pain that matched my own. “You okay?”
“Am I okay?” I scoffed, opening my eyes to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. “No, Thorne, I'm far from okay.” My words were laced with an anger that was really just fear painted with a different brush.
Thorne nodded, solemn understanding passing between us.
As the car hurtled down the highway, I leaned my head against the cool window, the glass fogging slightly with each breath.
And then I saw it.
“Stop!” The word tore from my throat, raw and ragged, as a body rolled out of the woods to our left.
Nox didn't hesitate; the brakes screeched, and the car jerked to a halt. We spilled out onto the pavement, the night air sharp against my skin, carrying the iron tang of blood.
We raced to the ditch, the gravel crunching underfoot, each step heavy with dread. There she lay, crumpled in the dirt. A jacket, a makeshift bandage, clung to her throat, darkened with blood that seeped through the fabric.
She was alive. Barely.
“Help me,” I said, and without another word, we gently eased the jacket away, assessing the damage with hands that had caused far too much of it themselves. The wound was vicious.
Fuck.
“Stay with us, Serina,” Thorne murmured, though her eyes had already fluttered closed.
“Let's move,” Nox urged, his voice a low growl.
I scooped her up in my arms, and we moved back to the car. I climbed into the backseat and cradled her in my arms. Nox and Thorne were a blur of motion, slamming their doors shut as we took off down the road again.
Serina's head rested uneasily in my lap, her body curled up. My fingers combed through her messy hair. Victor's compulsion snaked around my conscience, tempting, demanding—kill her. I could feel it writhing in the depths of my mind, a dark whisper that sought to overpower my will.
But with every gentle stroke of her hair, I pushed back, shaking my head as if to dispel the vile thought. I wouldn't give in. I couldn't.
“Almost there,” Nox called over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.
A few minutes later, Nox whipped the car into the ER entrance. I quickly climbed out of the car and rushed toward the hospital. The automatic doors of the ER whooshed open as we burst through.
“Help us!” Nox barked at the nearest nurse, startling her from her task. “She's been attacked. It's bad.”
I clung to Serina, unwilling to let her slip from my grasp even as we transferred her onto a gurney the nurse rushed over to me. Her breaths were shallow, too quiet against the clamor of beeping monitors and urgent voices.
“Name?” A nurse snapped into focus before me, her eyes darting between the clipboard and Serina's ashen face.
“Eliza Bennett,” I lied smoothly, both of their most recent false identities rolling off my tongue like a prayer. “Her cousin, Michelle, she's the emergency contact. Here’s her number.”
