Page 49 of The Heir
I didn't think my heart could break any more, but it does. Tears stream down Helena's cheeks. Her strawberry blonde hair is matted and messy, and her eyes are bloodshot. I can practically feel the fear emanatingfrom her. She's scared of me. That fear is because ofme. Guilt slithers around my bones and whispers horrendous things in my ear.
You hurt her. You're not worthy of her friendship. You're not worthy of your husband. You couldn't control yourself for thirty fucking minutes. You're a pig.
My skin burns under the cold waves of rain. I feel like my bones are trying to crawl out of me. I feel like I can't get enough air. I watch in a haze as Dante searches through Hannah's pockets. The edges of my vision turn fuzzy. I can't react when he yanks another key ring out. A black car key dangles from the ring.
Triumph blooms over my husband's face, but I can't celebrate with him. All I can do is trudge along and numbly help carry Melnyk to a white Jeep. Hannah's? Must be. Helena settles into the backseat, stabilizing his head in her lap. Dante jumps into the driver's seat. My feet stay firmly rooted to the ground. All I can do is stare.
"Darling, love, please—let's go!" Dante pleads with me, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life. I watch the fat raindrops plop and burst on the thick canvas roof of the Jeep. At first, they bead up and roll off, but soon the fabric darkens and absorbs the water. Rain trails down the thick plastic windows sewn into the canvas. I can see Helena's face, her brow knit in concern as she looks down at Melnyk's still form.
"Melody." My husband slides out of the vehicle. "I am not above carrying you."
"What?"
"It's time to go, love. Please. I don't know how much time we have before Ella—"
"I'm coming," I assure him. Ella's name shoves me into motion, and I race around to the passenger's seat. I've barely slammed the door before the Jeep jolts backwards. I haven't been in a car for so long. I don't even know how long, but the motion has my stomach rolling. I clamp my mouth shut and breathe heavily through my nose.
"You're alright, love, I promise," Dante murmurs as he navigates around deep potholes. The road is mostly dirt—now mud—with gravel interspersed. Another flash of lightning illuminates the jungle around us. The rumbling thunder isn't quite as loud now, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
"The storm is moving on," I whisper. "Where are we?"
"I don't know." Dante sets his jaw. His hands clench around the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white.
"We need to get somewhere with a hospital," Helena pipes up. "He's… he's not looking good."
I shift myself around to look at Melnyk's pale, bruised face. The blood he coughed up has dried and crustedaround his lips. His eyelids flutter rapidly, and his mouth is moving like he's trying to speak. Fuck.
"The road looks to be in better condition up here," Dante replies. "We might be closer to civilization than we thought. But we also don't know what we're walking into. Who knows how far-reaching the Seraph is here?"
"That's a chance we'll have to take." Helena's tone is far from jovial. My heart twists in my chest. I need to talk to her alone, somehow. I need to apologize. I need to assure her I'llneverhurt her again. I'd never physically hurt her—I know that, but she doesn't. Especially considering how she keeps flicking her gaze away from me when I look at her.
Nauseous anxiety grips my stomach. The rain fades to a drizzle, but the old-growth forest around us still looks menacing. Every rustling branch makes my panic spike—it could be anything. It could be the wind, but it could be Ella. She could have followed us. She could be following us right now. She's the Nephilim now, and I handed the title over to her on a silver platter.
I can't believe she played me like that. I mean, I can, but that doesn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. My head throbs with a stabbing pain. Everything is so much. Everything istoomuch. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, willing myself to block out the world.
Dante slams on the brakes, and I jolt forward—just barely catching myself before I fall into the dashboard. My pulse roars in my ears as I take in the bright lights of the small hospital we've pulled into.
"Melody, love, can you help Helena and me carry Melnyk to the emergency room?" Dante reaches over and brushes my cheek. I silently nod. I can hold it together. I can do this. I can do this for him; I can do this for Melnyk; I can do this for Helena.
Forcing myself to move, I take shallow breaths as we hoist Melnyk up and carry him to the door. Concerned faces rush to meet us. A woman with severe mom vibes asks me questions in rapid-fire Spanish. All I can tell her is, "Lo siento—no comprende. No hablas Español."
"Ingles?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. I nod. She turns and yells something toward the desk before returning her attention to me. She motions towards our group and slowly says, "Tu hablas Ingles? No Español?"
"Sí, señora," Dante huffs.
A gaggle of nurses races toward us with a gurney. I watch helplessly as they hoist Melnyk's limp body onto the bed. One of the women turns to me and nods before they push him down a hall.
"Can we go with him?" I ask, pointing in the direction they went. The woman furrows her brow and says something, but the only part I catch is a gentle "no."
She guides me to a rickety chair on the left while Dante and Helena follow. I heave out a sigh and rub my eyes. I can smell myself—it's not good. And I imagine I look even worse. Dante settles in next to me and places a protective hand on my thigh. Helena sits across from us, tucking her feet under herself. She crosses her arms and seems like she's trying to shrink herself. She taps a frantic rhythm on her knee.
"He'll be alright, love," Dante whispers. "We'll be alright."
The dam breaks. How can anything ever be alright again? How can he lie to me like this? I can't fix this. I can't fix Melnyk. I can't bring Forge back. I can't bring Nihil back—I know I didn't pull the trigger, but he was here because ofme. This is all because of me. Me and my stupid fucking idiot self and my uncontrollable urges. I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could convince past-Dante that I'm not the one for him.
It would kill me, but it would save everyone else.
Maybe that would be for the best. I've killed people—many people—and I've hurt my family. Helena might not think of me as family, but she is. Dante is. The guys are family, too. And now, two of them are dead. It's only a matter of time before we're caught again. All ofthis stress, all of this pain, all of this torture… it could go away.
