by Ella Miles
She nods, her fingers brushing against mine as she takes over applying pressure on his leg. When our fingers touch, I no longer feel the spark of connection. Instead, I feel anger and hatred. I’ve never wanted to punish someone so much in my life.
Never.
Kai has no idea what Zeke means to me, what Langston means. They are truly my family. Two of only a handful of people who actually care if I live or die—and she put a member of my family at risk.
Unacceptable.
She’s not cut out for this life. And the sooner she realizes it, the sooner I can take over as Black again, on my own.
Langston goes white staring at Zeke.
“Is he breathing?” I ask.
“No.”
“Don’t you dare die on me!” I yell, my voice cracking as I scream. I don’t get emotional often. I haven’t cried since I was a kid, but I feel the water clouding my eyes. My heart aches and pounds in my chest. “Trade with me,” I say to Langston.
He nods and moves, too shaken up to think straight.
I put my lips over Zeke’s, breathing life into him, while applying pressure to his chest wounds. Langton struggles to contain the blood spurting from Zeke’s stomach.
His chest rises and falls, confirming that oxygen is getting in, but I know his heart isn’t beating hard enough to push what little blood is left in his body through his veins.
I start pumping over his heart, demanding it beat faster.
“You don’t get to die, Zeke! Not today! Do you hear me?! You don’t get to fucking die,” I scream, as I continue to pump my hands over his heart, while Langston and Kai do their best to keep the blood inside his body.
I hear footsteps down the hallway. Westcott opens the front door to let the doctor in.
Finally.
I look to Langston and Kai who have yet to notice that help is on the way. The sound is too faint for either of them to hear or notice. But the doctor is coming.
I can’t save Zeke, I’m not strong enough, but I have enough money and resources to pay for the best team. If anyone can save him, they can.
Footsteps grow louder as they run down the hallway to where we lay.
The door crashes open and a team of six doctors and nurses race inside, the lead doctor, Lester Patten, is in the front.
Thank fuck I pay him well enough to drop everything and come, no questions asked.
This isn’t the first time he’s had to come to save one of my men or me, but this is the worst he’s ever had to deal with.
Patten’s face falls ashen for a second when he makes a quick visual assessment of the situation. And my fears are confirmed—this is bad.
“Get him on the gurney. Now. We need to perform a surgery,” Patten says.
The team descends, taking all of our places as they cover the wounds and move Zeke to a gurney.
“He’s not breathing,” I say, my voice suddenly calmer now that I’ve accepted that Zeke will most likely die and there is nothing left for me to do here.
Patten looks to one of his men, who immediately starts performing CPR, while the rest pack in his wounds with more gauze to try and stop the bleeding.
“You should find everything you need to perform surgery in the room down the hall,” I say, even though the doctor and his team already know which room to head to. I have one room that is always set up for this exact situation. You can never be too careful. We don’t have time to get to the hospital. And even if we made it, Zeke wouldn’t be safe there. Alastar’s men would try to kill one of us there.
“I know,” Patten says.
And then they are gone—whizzing Zeke down the hallway to do what I paid for—everything fucking possible to save his life.
Langston looks at me a second, trying to be loyal to me, but needing to go watch over Zeke. His eyes are red with worry, his cheeks stained with tears that must have fallen at some point, his face still white from shock, and his body tense with fear.
“Go,” I say.
He doesn’t wait for a second order. He leaves.
“I’m so sorry, Enzo,” Kai says.
I close my eyes trying to conjure all the self-control I can muster. But Zeke’s blood still clings to my fingers and clothes. I can’t let what happened go.
“Do you have any idea what you just did?!” I scream at Kai.
Her lip trembles as my voice beams through the room, ricocheting off walls and pouring into her as if I just used my fists instead of my voice.
“I didn’t realize—”
“Exactly. You don’t fucking belong in this world. You have no idea what it takes to be Black. If you were to win, all you would do is get yourself and my entire organization killed. Your first decision as Black got Zeke killed!”
“He’s not dead—”
“He might as well be.”
“The doctor can save him.”
My eyes protrude with all of my furry. My fists ball, my nostrils flare, and my heart pounds so loud I’m sure she can hear it.
“If he lives, he will carry scars with him forever. You of all people should know that.”
A slow tear rolls down her cheek.
“You don’t get to cry. You don’t get to feel sorry for what you did. You may not have killed anyone before, but you just did—you killed Zeke.”
More tears fall down her cheek, but I harden more. I will destroy her. I don’t know why part of me felt any amount of sorrow for her before, but it’s gone. I want Archard to walk in the door now and say the game starts tomorrow, because I need to take out my frustration on her, now. And killing her wouldn’t be enough.
I need to find a way to fix this. Since I won’t kill Kai, and I want her alive and healthy when I do my damage to her, I have to take my rage out in a different way. By ensuring everyone fucking knows I’m Black, and I don’t show mercy. Alastar’s men will die a torturous death for what they did to Zeke.
And then everyone will know why Kai is married to me. They will know I won her. And marrying her was just a way to claim her as mine. I’ll make her nothing.
I start toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
“What? Where are you going?” Kai asks.
“To get revenge for Zeke.”
“But Zeke needs you here, if he wakes up—”
“Langston will be here if he wakes up.” Which is a big if. “And when he wakes up, I want to be able to tell him I killed the man who hurt him. We can’t show weakness, not fucking now.”
“But—” Kai puts her hand on me.
I jerk back, like her touch burns me—I hate her.
I see the pain from my reaction on her face. “Don’t you dare try to stop me! You stopped me from going before, and Zeke paid the price. If you try to stop me now, I’ll kill you.”
She doesn’t terror at my threat. She stands tall, strong, fearless.
Fuck her.
“And I would deserve it.”
I narrow my eyes. Not believing she said that. But nothing she says will fix anything—nothing.
“Go.”
“I don’t need your fucking permission.”
“And I’m not giving it.”
I shudder as my anger fills me, needing a fucking escape hatch through my body. And then I disappear.
Without Kai’s permission.
Without Archard holding me back.
I go because it’s the only thing I can do for Zeke. A man who saved me too many times to count. My brother in every way that matters.
I failed him. I won’t fail him again. I will kill the man who hurt him. And then when I return, I’ll deal with Kai. Because my father had it right the first time when he ordered me to kill her when we were teenagers. She has no business being in this life. And the only way to prevent her from winning is by killing her.
11
Kai
Enzo hates me.
And with good reason. I may have caused one of his only friends to die.
Enzo had said he considers Zeke and Langston to be family. But I
didn’t believe him until Langston carried Zeke inside lifeless in his arms. That’s when I realized just how much Enzo cared for them.
I thought Enzo was heartless—I was wrong. He just doesn’t care about me.
But he loves Zeke. He loves Langston. He loves his family.
And now Enzo’s gone. To get revenge for hurting Zeke.
I never thought I’d be jealous of a dying man, but I am. Because Zeke was loved. And Enzo is going to make amends for what happened to Zeke.
When I was tortured, I got nothing. No revenge. No closure. Nothing.
I walk down the hallway cautiously searching for where the doctors brought Zeke. He looked so horrible when the doctors brought him in. Every inch of his clothes was caked in blood, and his gaping wounds were still bleeding, pouring more of his lifeline from his body until I’m not sure he had anything left.
If they save Zeke, it will be a miracle. Literally a miracle.
I knew it.
Langston knew it.
Enzo knew it.
The doctor saw it without even examining him.
Zeke is most likely already dead, and it’s my fault.
I never thought I’d be ashamed of killing a man. Not after my trust in men was taken. But if Zeke dies, it will haunt me.
Why didn’t I let Enzo go with them?
I’m not sure it would have made a difference other than Enzo might be lying side by side with Zeke, on death’s doorstep. But it wouldn’t be on my conscience. His death wouldn’t be my fault.
Because I wanted to hurt Enzo.
I did hurt him—more than I ever bargained for.
I got my revenge on Enzo.
But I don’t feel any better. Because as much as I’m pissed at Enzo for selling me, for being the catalyst that started this—Jarod was the one who hurt me every day. He’s the one I hold responsible. Only when he’s dead will I get my revenge.
I see Langston pacing outside of a closed door.
I don’t know what to say, but I need to know, so I ask. “How is Zeke?”
Langston’s head snaps so hard in my direction there was an audible sound to his hatred. With one look, Langston cuts to my core, ripping me open till I’m raw with emotion and pain.
I thought I knew torture and pain. It was nothing.
Knowing I hurt these men I thought were heartless and invincible kills me.
“He’s dying. How do you think he is?” Langston barks.
“I’m sor—”
“I don’t want to hear a pathetic apology from a bitch like you.”
Langston had always been kind to me, but not now. Now he will hate me till the end of my days.
“Has the doctor said anything?” I ask, because I need to know.
He shakes his head. “He’s in surgery.”
“That’s good. That means he’s still alive.”
“No, Enzo pays the doctor’s so well they will fight for his life well beyond the length a normal doctor would give up and declare him dead. He could already be dead, and they will continue to work hours longer.”
“There could be a miracle.”
He glares at me. “A miracle would be if you dropped dead.”
I suck in a breath at the invisible kick to the stomach.
“You’re the reason he’s in there! Do you understand that?”
I nod.
“I don’t think you do! You prevented Enzo from going.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but Zeke would probably still be in there right now. Enzo would just be right in there with him.”
“No.” Langston hovers over me in an instant, and I wonder if he’s going to slap me, grab me, or hit me. I deserve it, but I flinch, and he stops as if remembering what happened when he touched me the last time. How Enzo hurt him and threatened him never to do it again.
“Enzo wouldn’t be in there. And Zeke wouldn’t either. You’ve never seen Enzo in action, so you don’t understand. He’s unstoppable. He can hear things, see things, sense things we can’t. His intuition is unmatchable. He knows where and what our enemy is doing before they do.
“Zeke and I’s connection to Enzo is strong. Once Enzo figures out a plan, it’s almost instantaneous that he conveys it to Zeke and me. And with Zeke’s strength, my quickness, and Enzo’s power we are indomitable. We’ve been hurt, but never like this. We’ve never been so caught off guard. Never been this close to death before.”
“He could still survive,” I whisper, feeling Langston’s pain with each word.
“You still don’t understand. Zeke wasn’t the only man who was hurt. He might be the closest to Enzo, but he isn’t the only one. They killed over twenty men, injured more, and captured the rest. Those deaths are your fault.”
The color drains from my face, and I collapse to the floor. I let men die.
“You should have let Enzo go. You aren’t cut out for this world. You aren’t even cut out to fight to become Black.”
“I let Enzo go now,” I say, finally looking up at Langston again.
“What do you mean?”
“He said there was nothing he could do for Zeke here. But he’s going to get revenge. I let him go, but…” I can’t finish. Did I just send Enzo to his death? Because the man that hurt Zeke like that will mutilate the man in charge.
And if Enzo is dead, that means I become Black by default.
Langston’s right, I can’t lead. I don’t belong in this world. If I were to lead, the men would be dead within the month.
Enzo might be cruel, but I doubt every man who works for him deserves to die because of my incompetence. Men like my father work for Enzo, and as upset as I am at my father right now, I don’t think he deserves to die.
“Good, Enzo will get revenge for Zeke.” The way he says it makes it seem there is no way Enzo will die getting revenge. He says it like it’s his word. Like it’s already done.
Tears fall again as I shiver in my cold skin against the wall.
I did this.
Please come back Enzo. I don’t want the empire. I don’t want revenge. I don’t want anyone else to die.
Langston paces while I shiver for several minutes before I gather my strength and stand. I’m no good quivering on the floor.
I fucked up; now I need to do everything I can to fix this.
Zeker is still in surgery, so there is nothing I can do for him.
Enzo is gone.
But Langston…he’s in anguish.
He’s beyond torn up, practically driving his feet so hard into the ground with each step I’m surprised he hasn’t gone through the floorboards.
I can’t help Zeke or Enzo, but I can help Langston.
I get up off the floor realizing for the first time I’m shirtless, only a bra covers my indecency. I gave up my top to help Zeke. My hands are covered in blood the same way Langston’s are. The same Enzo’s were.
I walk upstairs to the bathroom off the bedroom I share with Enzo and then wash my hands under the water, watching in horror as the water turns red from the blood of a man I can’t save. Wiping the blood away in part feels like I’m washing him away.
Why do I care? Zeke was a monster. He killed men on a daily basis, but he didn’t deserve to die.
When I’m finished washing, I mindlessly walk over to the closet, pull out a shirt and jeans, and put them on. Then I grab one of Enzo’s shirts and jeans. They will be too big on Langston. Enzo is at least two inches taller, his muscles are more defined, but Langston needs a change of clothes. He can’t keep walking around carrying his friend’s blood on him all day.
I head downstairs and into the kitchen, trying to find a way to help Langston. I doubt he would take food. My stomach is in knots; his is probably worse.
He might drink booze, and it might help him numb his feelings, but I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
Coffee.
It will warm him up and keep him awake while he waits for his friend.
“Miss Miller, can I help you with anything?” We
stcott says.
“No, I got it.”
“If you need any food or drink I would be happy to make it for you.”
Westcott and I haven’t always gotten along. He always seemed too cold and loyal to Enzo for my liking.
“Thank you, but I need to do this myself.”
He gives me an understanding look, his eyes filled with sadness. “The coffee is in the cabinet on your right.”
My mouth drops. How did he know I was looking for coffee? I think I’ve underestimated Westcott.
I turn to the cabinet and pull out the coffee. Of course, Enzo has a fancy coffee maker that takes me ten minutes to figure out how to use. But I do it. Then I pour the coffee into a mug and head back to Langston.
He’s still pacing outside the door. It’s started to get late into the middle of the night. But he’s so awake I don’t think he could sleep if he were forced to.
“Drink this,” I say.
He ignores me.
“Langston, drink this,” I try again, holding out the coffee.
“I’m not doing anything that brings me comfort, not while Zeke might be dying.”
I huff. Stubborn man. They all are. “Drink this,” I shove it into his hands. “You need it to stay awake and alert for Zeke.”
I said the magic words, because he takes the mug from me without a thanks. He just stares a penetratingly dark gaze with his otherwise blue eyes.
“You need to change too,” I say, holding out the clothes. If I hesitate, he might slap me for showing weakness.
“No.”
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to approach it. “When Zeke awakes, you’ll scare the shit out of him if he sees you coated in blood. He won’t know if it’s yours or his. Either way, it might put him into a shock. Change.”
“Fine,” he relents. He removes his shirt tossing it in my direction.
I try not to wince, but I can’t help it.
He smiles smugly at my reaction.
He starts undressing his pants, and I don’t react. I know what he’s trying to do—goad me into to telling him he shouldn’t undress in front of me. But I don’t care. I just want him to feel better.
He kicks his jeans off, then does his best to wipe the blood from his hand on the jeans before throwing them at me.
