No.
No.
Just no.
This must be a nightmare. If I wake up, I’ll find myself back to two days ago. In the grocery store, holding Creighton’s hand and talking about everything and nothing.
This time, I won’t let Jeremy find us, and if he does, I won’t leave with him. I’ll grab Creigh’s hand and stay.
I’ll take him with me and run.
That way, everything will be okay. Everything will go back to normal, and I won’t be trapped in this nightmare.
It’s strange, the type of thoughts that run through your head when everything else cancels itself out. When it’s white noise, bleak silence, and red.
Lots of red.
Blood red.
Red. Red. Red.
I don’t know how I end up on my knees. I don’t walk to where he fell. I crawl on the rough surface with the uncoordinated speed of an injured animal.
My vision is blind to all the people surrounding us and my ears are deaf to the shouts and chaotic noise.
The only sound I hear is a long buzz and the only thing I see is him and red.
He’s all red.
Because of my gun. The one I shouldn’t have brought with me when I found out Jeremy was in danger. The one I should’ve kept in the car and not slipped beneath my hoodie.
My body rolls or maybe it’s the room that’s spinning in an irregular rhythm. Maybe my prayers will be answered and I will wake up from this nightmare.
Now, please.
Someone wake me up.
Instead of opening my eyes, I sink my hands into that red, all dark and sticky and not where it’s supposed to. It should be inside him, not outside.
Through a blur, I lift my hand to stare at the blood that’s coating my fingers and then at the body it’s left.
Someone, Landon, presses both his hands on the gash in Creigh’s back harshly, where more of his life essence escapes.
On and on, it keeps flowing, forming a pool beneath his body.
Creighton’s face is pale, lacks expression, and his eyes are closed, causing his lashes to flutter on his cheeks.
His massive build is unmoving, lifeless.
He…looks nothing like the Creighton I know.
People might see him as gloomy, too silent, or too cold, but he’s the one who made me feel alive.
The one who changed everything.
And I took it away.
Everything.
All of it.
I think I’m going to throw up.
Just when nausea clogs my throat, a strong hand pulls me by the arm. For a moment, I think it’s that wake-up call I’ve been praying for.
Maybe it’s Creigh, who’s calling me a sleepyhead—when he’s way worse—and he’s surprising me with a date.
Maybe he’ll watch Pride and Prejudice with me again, call me a hopeless romantic, then fuck me.
Maybe Tiger will have a Peeping Tom session and he’ll be irrationally jealous about it.
So I let it happen. Closing my eyes, I chalk the whole scene up to a horrible nightmare.
The nightmare of all nightmares.
I wait for the ball that’s clogging my throat to disappear. I wait for the trembling in my limbs to subside and the stickiness to vanish from my fingers.
It gets worse.
Seeps deeper.
Closes my throat further.
When I open my eyes, I’m being shoved in the direction of a car, fresh tears streaming down my cheeks as I catch a glimpse of Jeremy.
His brow is furrowed as he studies the Elites’ circular driveway.
“No,” I murmur, clutching my head with my bloodied hands. “No, no, no, no…a nightmare, a nightmare, this is only a nightmare…”
“Anoushka…stop fighting me and get in the car.”
It’s then I realize I’ve been wiggling, struggling, and jerking, preventing my brother from pushing me into the passenger seat.
I come to a halt, pull my hands from my temples, and drown in the red.
All red.
Blood red.
His red.
“Anoushka…”
I stare at my brother and the cut on his shoulder through my blurred vision. “Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me you’re not real, Jer. This…this is just in my head. I didn’t… I didn’t…shoot him.”
“You did, and we need to get the fuck out of here while they’re distracted.”
I shake my head continuously, with enough force that I’m surprised it doesn’t fall off. “I-I’m…going to go back in there and make sure this is a nightmare…it has to be…”
My brother grabs me by the shoulders and slams me against the car. “Wake the fuck up, Annika. You shot him in the fucking chest. He’s probably dead, and if you go in there, they’ll only kill you, do you understand?”
“No…no…no…” My murmurs grow in intensity and so do my wiggling and distressed attempts to escape his hold.
This time, Jeremy throws me inside, uses the seatbelt to strap me in, and then he runs to the driver’s side.
I try to free myself, desperately, manically. But my involuntary tears and trembling bloodied hands make it impossible.
My brother’s car raves down the driveway and he nearly breaks the gate on his way out.
He’s speeding, and I’m wailing, looking behind me, through the mirror, through the gaps. Anywhere that I can catch a glimpse of him.
It doesn’t take us long to reach the Heathens’ compound. The moment Jeremy undoes the seatbelt, I run back toward the entrance.
No clue where I’m going on foot, but I can find a solution as long as I’m out of here. I can—
Merciless arms wrap around my middle and Jeremy all but lifts me off the ground. “The fuck you think you’re going?”
“To make sure it’s a nightmare.”
“It’s not.” His voice is harsh, all dark and businesslike. Usually, that would send me running. Now, it does nothing compared to the horror invading my bones.
He puts me down, grabs my elbow, and drags me with him inside the mansion. I try to free myself, but there’s no reasoning with my buffalo of a brother.
“What’s going—well, fuck.” Gareth stops near the entrance and studies all the blood decorating us. “Are you okay?”
“Nikolai,” Jeremy lets out through gritted teeth. “We have to make sure he’s okay. The crazy fucker had his throat sliced to keep from becoming my weakness.”
“Holy fuck.” Gareth retrieves his phone and storms toward the door. “I’m on it.”
“Where’s Kill?” Jeremy shouts, but Gareth has already left.
“A nightmare,” I murmur, half conscious, half trapped in a loop. “It’s just a nightmare. It can only be a nightmare.”
“Looking for me?” Killian appears at the top of the stairs, tilting his head to the side, narrowing his eyes on me. “Did you really shoot Creighton?”
My murmurs come to a halt and I stare, dumbfounded. Could Killian also have been in my nightmare?
“How did you know so fast?” Jeremy asks.
“Glyndon just called me, crying because her cousin is about to die. I don’t really appreciate it when someone makes my little rabbit cry, Annika.”
“I didn’t.” I shake my head frantically. “It’s only a nightmare. Jer was stabbed and it was also a nightmare.”
My brother releases a long breath. “She’s not herself. You go strengthen security. I’ll take care of her and join you.”
“I’m fine. Totally fine, and it was only a nightmare.”
Jeremy practically drags me up the stairs and into my room. The room Creighton came into that first night.
The night after which we got close.
The night I recognized him by the look in his eyes only because he was a god. My god. And I reached for him anyway.
I knew it was forbidden, but I touched that god, and now I’m being punished for it.
“Annika…Annika? Annika!”
I jerk out of my daze at my brother’s harsh voice, and the nightmare that just refuses to end filters back into the immediate reality.
Jeremy’s grabbing my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “Will you be okay?”
My gaze flits to the blood on his T-shirt. It’s not as red as the pool from earlier, but it’s there. I touch it with my dirty hand, my fingers clenching and unclenching.
“This is a nightmare, too. You’re not bleeding, Jer.”
He winces, and then removes my hold. “I’ll survive. I don’t think he really wanted to hurt me.”
A sob tears from my throat as reality comes crashing down on me in all vivid red.
“He…he didn’t?” My voice breaks as wetness soaks my cheeks and neck.
Jer shakes his head.
“Then…then…then why…why did I pull that trigger? Tell me, Jer! If I wasn’t going to save you, if I didn’t have to, why did I pull it?”
“Because he wanted you to, Anoushka.” Jeremy’s voice softens, and my brother’s voice doesn’t soften. “He looked to be in pain and resolved to see it all…end.”
“No…” I sob, hitting my brother’s chest. “Ah…ah… This…hurts. Why does it hurt? Ah…make it stop hurting. There was a lot of blood, Jer. What if he…? What if… What…”
The word knots and chokes me, refusing to be said out loud.
My brother pulls me close to his chest with his good arm and I cry.
I just cry and cry until I think I have no tears left. Until I think I’m going to faint from the amount of pain that’s wrecking my chest.
The image of red and his pale face haunts me.
The face that might never get life back because I ended it.
With my own hands, I fucking ended it.
When my tears turn into hiccups, Jer takes me to the bathroom, by my hand, like when I was a toddler and fell down and dirtied myself.
He turns on the faucet and patiently scrubs my hands of all the blood.
Scrub.
Scrub.
Scrub.
All the red washes down the drain in a haunting symphony of crimson against white. But the evidence remains beneath my nails, clinging to my fingers, refusing to vanish.
Then Jeremy washes my face and combs his fingers through my tangled, dirty hair. After he’s done, he leads me back to my room.
I’m lifeless, half moving, half dead. I don’t protest as he sits me on the foot of the bed and brings out my first aid kit.
He starts to clean the cuts on my fingers, on my palms.
I touch his shoulder and the tears I thought were no longer there gather in my lids and stream down my cheek.
My voice comes out too hoarse, too raw. “He stabbed you… I thought…I thought he was going to kill you… I couldn’t…I couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t think when I pulled the trigger. Why did I go for his chest? I tried to miss, but it was too late. It’s too late.”
Jeremy strokes my arm. “It’s okay, Anoushka.”
“It’s not! It’s not okay! He wasn’t going to kill you, but I killed him… I killed the man I love, Jer. I k-killed him… I…I…”
“He’s not dead,” he speaks slowly, patiently. “You’re not a killer. You just love me, and that’s okay, Anoushka. Choosing is okay.”
That only makes me cry harder even as I try to clean his wound. I end up hurting him more and he says he’ll just have Kill stitch him up.
Jeremy doesn’t leave my side. Not when I finally pass out.
Not when I wake up crying.
Not even when I hit him and blame him for interrupting us that night in the grocery store.
For taking me back home.
I blame him for being the reason I found out the truth about my ill-fated relationship.
I blame him for blindly going to Nikolai’s aid when he didn’t have to.
I’m illogical and emotional, and a mess of epic proportions.
But my brother stays by my side the whole time, offering his support silently, taking the lash of my words with understanding.
Killian comes and stitches him up in my room. When I ask him if he’s heard any news, he glares at me and then leaves without a word.
So imagine my surprise when I wake up early the next morning after a restless sleep and Jeremy says, “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“You…you’ll really let me?”
“If I don’t, you’ll sneak out behind my back and get yourself in trouble. I’m going to see Nikolai anyway, so you can look from afar.”
“Is he…okay?”
“Nikolai or Creighton?”
I swallow. “Both?”
“Thankfully, Nikolai didn’t slice his throat too deeply. Creighton, however, is in the ICU. He has an extensive hemorrhage and is in a coma. The next two days will be important to decide whether he lives or dies.”
I slap my palm to my mouth and shake my head frantically.
No. This can’t be true.
Jeremy wrenches my hand away. “Snap the fuck out of it, Annika. Either you crumble and wither away, and mark my words, if you do, I will lock you the hell up here with no way out. Or you take a shower, change your clothes, and meet me downstairs so we can go to the hospital together. There will be no third option.” Then he heads to the door. “You have fifteen minutes.”
I’m on autopilot as I take the quickest shower in history and blank out all my thoughts.
By the time I change my clothes and go downstairs, I find Jeremy waiting for me with one hand in his pocket and the other scrolling through his phone.
He nods in approval and then we get into the car.
I’m better and worse during this car ride. Better, because I’m not crying like a baby, even though I want to.
Worse, because at least I was numb last night.
Now, I can feel every prick of emotion. Every heartbeat and every screwed-up memory.
I can recall in vivid detail the way I held that gun, the way I pressed the trigger. I can feel the doomsday sensation that overtook my head.
It all happened too fast and yet too slow.
Jeremy keeps driving in silence, giving me all the space I need. Even if the sound of the engine becomes suffocating and the roads blur into one.
I lean my head against the window and breathe so heavily that the glass fogs up.
“If we see any police, we’re getting you the hell out of there,” Jeremy tells me, eyes on the road. “I don’t have a good feeling about the fact that they’re not involved yet. Landon and Remington were there. Surely, they would’ve testified against you. Good thing I took your gun when we left, so there’s no incriminating evidence.”
“But I did it,” I murmur. “I shot him.”
“Listen to me and listen to me well, Anoushka.” He tilts his head to the side. “You are not throwing your life away for this. You thought you had no choice, which is why you shot him. That’s the only version we’ll go with.”
“But—”
“No buts. This is the only hospital visit you’ll have, so make good use of it.”
“What? Why?”
He gives me a blank look as he parks the car in front of the hospital. “Dad is on his way here. He’s personally taking you back to the States. Indefinitely.”
Anything I have to say on the issue is unheard as Jeremy steps out of the car.
My opinion wouldn’t matter anyway. Papa, Jer, and even Mom think I’m in danger here.
The plot twist is that I’m the one who hurt Creighton instead.
I’m the one who—
A bang sounds on the window and I flinch as Jeremy stares down at me. Then I step out of the car and follow him inside.
“You can visit Nikolai,” I say, my voice sounding a bit scratchy. “I’ll go to the ICU and join you in a bit.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to…” I trail off when he matches my steps.
Soon after, we get to the ICU, and I stop at the corner when I catch a glimpse of a blonde woman with bloodshot eyes and a tear-streaked face sitting beside a stiff Eli and leaning her head on his shoulder.
Her hand is in a man’s hold, or more like her wrist is. He keeps watching her face with a furrow in his brow.
He has a striking resemblance to Eli, looking like an older version of him.
Aiden and Elsa King. Their parents.
This is the first time I’ve seen them in person. Creighton often talked about them with adoration and almost reverence.
For someone who thought himself unfeeling, he loved his parents, and even Eli, unconditionally. Deep inside, he considered them his family and he hated himself for being hung up on the past version of himself.
A version that my family created, even unknowingly.
Glyndon strolls to the scene with Brandon. His face is tight while hers is all red and as much of a mess as Creighton’s mom’s. The siblings carry coffee that everyone but Creighton’s dad refuses.
I want to step forward, to see him even once, but I don’t dare to.
Creighton said his mom has a fragile heart, which is why I assume Eli’s remaining by her side and his dad is probably monitoring her pulse.
I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her because of me.
Swallowing down a choke, I turn around. “Let’s go.”
Jeremy watches me for a beat. “Are you sure?”
No. But I nod, letting my feet carry me down the stairs. Maybe I can get information about Creighton from the hospital staff or I can just snoop from afar.
Or maybe, just maybe, this whole nightmare will end soon.
“What are you doing here?” The familiar voice, now vicious, reaches me before I’m flung back and slapped across the face so hard that my vision burns.
Jeremy grabs the assailant, Ava, and bangs her whole body against the wall. Her face is red, probably from having the breath knocked out of her lungs, but she glares at me anyway.
Cecily catches up to her and only stares at the scene for a second before she comes running to pull Jeremy off her.
“Let her go!” She scratches at his hand, her voice raw.
I touch his arm and shake my head. As much as I feel hurt and want to cry, I don’t.
Jeremy reluctantly releases her, but Ava doesn’t pause before coming at me again.
This time, with tears in her eyes. “We trusted you! We let you become our sister from another mister, but you…you dare to shoot Creigh… How could you do that when he cared about you so much? Who the fuck are you to steal him from us?”
My brother tries to shield me, but I step forward and let her hit me. I don’t try to remain strong. I can’t. The harder she cries and hits, the more I let the tears loose.
“Ava…” Cecily tries to pull her off me. “If Aunt Elsa or Uncle Aiden sees, we’ll be in deep shit.”
“I don’t care!” she screams. “I thought this bitch would make Creigh happy and God knows he needed that, but she’s sending him to his grave!”
“I didn’t want… I’m so sorry…” I whisper between sobs. “I only…I only thought about saving my brother. I swear I didn’t want to hurt him. I swear…”
“Leave,” Ava all but growls, her face flushed, her cheeks tear-streaked. “The only reason we haven’t reported this to the police is because Landon is leaving the ball in Creighton’s court for when he wakes up, and none of us want to upset Aunt Elsa any further, so we said it was a robbery. But I swear to fuck, Annika, if something happens to Creigh, I’m gonna fly to the States and personally kill you.”
“Not if you end up dead on the way,” Jeremy says in a deadpan voice.
Ava continues glaring at me, but it’s Cecily who glares at my brother. “I suggest you take her and go.”
“And I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he says with chill-inducing calm.
Cecily meets his harsh eyes for one more beat, then drags Ava away. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t ever show your face around us again,” Ava whisper-yells. “Murderer.”
And then they disappear, leaving me with a choked sob and a pain so deep, I just want to…end it all.
