Page 212 of Boy of Ruin
I’ve never been anything so pure.
I only get one, because they’d kill each other before they shared me.
But I can’t let either of them go.
“She won’t give you up.”
Those words are like a knife. The way he speaks them. The truth ringing through them. The way my stomach twists into a knot because for once—seeing Maddox’s hands around her, that gun to her belly, and feeling the steel of the barrel against my own head as she tried to save him—for once, I don’t take pleasure in that thought. In the monstrous ties that bind us to each other. Our broken past. A mom that wasn’t really.
Fathers that...
I swallow down that lump in my throat.
They’re both dead now.
The 6 still exist, but maybe with Elijah’s wife back, free from harm—on my command—and with Maddox dead, maybe things will get better.
I’m probably fucking delusional, but even so, when I turn to look down at my half-brother in the hospital bed, his deep blue eyes glaring at me, I know he wouldn’t let them hurt her. Not again.
Never again.
He was willing to die for her.
Just like me.
He would’ve let Maddox pull that trigger with the gun against his head if it meant keeping her safe. And when Maddox had the gun to her belly, Lucifer was going to throw himself at her. He would’ve died with her.
But she...she’s having a baby with him. She loves him. It makes me feel sick, and I kind of want to puke thinking about it, but what settles me is that I know…she loves me too.
She’s probably the only person in the world who ever has.
Ever will.
Giving her up...
“It’s going to kill me,” I finally say. My voice breaks and I hate it. That it’s happening in front of him, of all people. But the nurses wanted me out of Sid’s room, and I wouldn’t usually give a fuck what anyone wants, but there’s already enough cover up happening in this hospital right now that I didn’t want to push my fucking luck.
Besides, Lucifer is the only one who would understand.
“It’s going to fucking kill me and you…” I lift a finger, coming to stand by the side of his bed. Even with an IV for fluids in his arm, a black eye, nearly shattered fucking cheekbone, he still clenches his fists, sits up straighter like he’ll fucking kill me if I come any closer.
Yeah. He won’t let anyone hurt her. But even still...
“You can’t keep doing drugs,” I say, leaning down close, jabbing my finger into his chest. It’s easier to reach for the anger. It keeps me from fucking falling apart.
A muscle feathers along his jaw and he glances down at my finger in his chest, but he doesn’t touch me.
“You can’t keep fucking her over like that.”
“She’s fucked me over, too—”
“When she’s scared. When she gets in too deep,” I explain, dropping my hand, straightening and running a hand through my hair. “She fucking loves you. It’s why she left. She was terrified. Not of fucking Maddox.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, close my eyes and take a breath. I still don’t look at him when I keep going, explaining the way my beautiful sister’s soul works. How they fucked us up. “Of you. She was terrified because you were fucking losing your mind and she just thought...” I dig my nails into my palms, that tremor starting up again in my fucking hand. “She just thought it was better to leave than get left.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I dart a glance his way.
Think about killing him all over again.
Then I remember the feel of the gun against my head. Her crawling over him, holding his face in her hands. How she charged at Maddox, for him. For her. For us.
