Chapter Twenty-Five

Kieran

I saw the bullet leave the chamber as if the whole world were thrown into a slow-motion reel. The air particles warped as the golden projectile sliced its way at about seventeen hundred miles per hour in Tomás's direction. Tomás's head jerked back, blood splatter followed, and he was falling. The whole event took just under a second.

My heart crashed against my sternum. Blood filled my head. The slight variation in my scope of reality snapped away. True reality came crashing back into me like a battering ram.

Tomás was still standing.

Jack still held the gun. It had misfired.

Under the shadows, silent as the grave, my heart pounding an unnatural rhythm, I moved. Blade in hand, I came up behind Jack. Just at the last moment, Tomás's eyes met mine.

Most assassins I knew preferred slicing the throat to make a statement. I, on the other hand, preferred the quicker kill. I clamped my hand over Jack's forehead and tilted his head, exposing more of his throat. Then I stabbed him in the carotid with a cheap folding knife anyone could purchase on Amazon for twelve bucks. The movement quick, precise, and before I could get blood all over me, I retreated back into the shadows and waited.

Jack dropped the gun and cupped his neck, blood gushing out of the wound. Nothing was going to save him now. For a few precious seconds, he'd be confused. The imminent death not quite real yet. He gurgled, tried to speak, eyes too wide for his face, wondering what happened. The thirty to sixty seconds it'd take him to bleed out seemed to take longer.

"No," Tomás whispered.

I'd forgotten he was even in the room.

"Jack!"

Tomás started to go to the dying boy, but I stopped him. "No. He needs to bleed out."

"Why? No. No."

I didn't see when Jack fell but I heard it behind me. Tomás gripped my coat, his body trembling. I cupped the back of his neck, ignoring his blood between my fingers, and hid his face into my shoulder.

After a minute, the only sounds were Tomás's racking sobs.

Wren already moved inside. He gave me a WTF did you do, look. The how the hell are we going to clean up this loose end, look.

Tomás being the loose end.

Wren slowly pulled out his gun and pointed it at Tomás. With one swift shot, Wren could fix my mistake, clean up my mess. Tomás wouldn't even see it coming. It'd be quick. Clean. But the thought broke something inside of me. I guided Tomás out of the way while keeping Wren hidden from view. I slowly shook my head. Touch him and die.

He returned the gun to his back holster.

"Tomás, I need you with me. Are you with me?" I cupped his face. I couldn't think past my current predicament. I couldn't think that Tomás had run from me. That blind luck had led me to him. He'd kept the coat tag which had a GPS component in it. People lost them all the time. I'd interrogated Ruth and made sure she decided to leave town afterward. Then we had tracked Tomás here. Wren and me.

Tomás nodded but kept his eyes on me until he noticed Wren move. We all knew about the end marker that our world promised. Wren tapped Jack's pockets with his gloved hands. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he started to search around his neck. The blood hindering the process.

"What is he doing?" Tomás asked.

"It's Charon's payment to take him across the river to the other side." It also marked him as a student of Arcadia and the local authorities wouldn't keep the case open for long. They knew what they housed inside that school. They knew what we were, who we belonged to. If they wanted to live, they'd look away. My marker was under the blue sapphire stone on my leather bracelet. I didn't tell Tomás any of that. He didn't need to know it.

Wren pulled on a silver chain until it broke free. Hanging off it was what looked like a gambling chip. Inside, rested a silver coin. An obol. Jack's obol didn't have a family crest. He didn't belong to one of the elites. He was just a normal kid. Wren pulled out the obol, pushed the guy's chin down to open his mouth, and carefully placed the coin inside. He whispered something. A prayer maybe. Before stretching to his feet and glaring at me.

I shrugged out of my coat and threw it around Tomás's shoulders. "Come on," I said using the softest voice I could muster. "Let's get out of here."

Tomás didn't fight. His body leaned against mine, using me for support. I held him tight. Led him out the back door we had used to get inside the house and to Fox's Jeep which we parked a few houses away. I pushed him up against it. His eyes were wide, and he clung to my coat. "Don't leave me," he whispered, barely audible.

I cupped the back of his neck again and drew him into my body. I needed him okay. "I'm not leaving you. I'll be right back. I promise." Something I'd never done before. Promise. I never made promises because I knew keeping them was too great a risk.

He nodded against my shoulder and dropped his arms to his side. I opened the door and helped him inside. "Did you have anything else? Did you leave anything else in there?"

He opened his hand and a pair of rings glinted in the soft streetlight, then he fisted them again. "Is he dead?"

"Yeah, he's dead."

"You killed him?"

The human mind was a fragile thing. People often made shit up when they couldn't grasp reality. He'd seen what I did to Jack, but his mind wanted to see something different. Maybe, he thought me incapable of actually killing someone. Maybe, he had believed I could be a good person.

I wasn't.

And although I didn't want to lie to Tomás, I also needed to pull back from wanting to comfort him. This had to be like any other mission, and clean-up would be a bitch. Better he believed whatever made him comfortable right now. Reality would come crashing over him later.

"Let me go check with Wren," I said, ignoring his question. "Stay here." I closed the car door.

Inside the house, Wren shifted out of the shadows like a ghost. The guy could be stealthy when the occasion called for it. I'm glad it had been him with me and not River or Fox. River would've given me that look he always gave me when I acted like a shit. And Fox would've killed Tomás without asking.

"There's another body." Wren pointed over the kitchen counter.

I resisted the urge to rake my fingers through my hair. I didn't want to leave any DNA evidence in case the locals decided they'd investigate anyway.

"Let's leave it. The sheriff will work it as usual."

Wren shook his head, but he didn't say anything. This shit with Tomás wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

We locked the place up and headed to Fox's hunting cabin. With the snow-covered roads, that was the best we were going to do until things cleared up. I drove Fox's Jeep because Wren's car wouldn't survive this weather. Wren sat in the front seat while Tomás sat in back.

Tomás slumped over, eyes closed, and I shook his knee. "Hey, wake up."

He jolted awake.

"You might have a concussion. Don't go to sleep. River will check you up once we get to the cabin."

Wren looked at me and I looked back. I hope so. Despite the snow and the rough terrain, the Jeep drove smoothly. When I didn't take the exit toward the cabin, Wren glared at me. "What are you doing?" he asked. Not where am I going, because I'm pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question.

"We have always, always, abided by rule of Arcadia law. The sanctuary. The obol. The branding. I'm protecting him."

"Are you sure he wants protecting?"

I glanced back at Tomás who seemed asleep again. He better not die. "I don't give a fuck what he wants."

That ended the conversation. I stopped the Jeep just outside Knight's Tattoo parlor. River usually did the tats at school, but Knight Walker was also an ally.

"It's 4:00 AM. He's going to pitch a fit."

I ignored Wren and got out of the car. This was what would save Tomás. He didn't know yet, but he would. I rang and a few minutes later a bear of a man swung open the door wearing nothing but basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. A ripped chest full of artwork stood before me and I had to remember to close my mouth. Knight had turned his body into a canvas of art and I wanted to keep looking. He made a sound and I broke my temporary insanity to glare at him. He matched my glare. After a few seconds, he rolled his eyes and started back into the place. "I'll get the coffee running," he mumbled.

"And put some clothes on, you freak," I called.

He chuckled.

Wren and I helped Tomás into the chair. Knight had a solid place. Clean and organized. If I ever decided to get a tattoo, it'd be with him. He returned with a shirt on and coffee. He didn't offer Wren or I any.

He looked at Tomás as he sipped his coffee. "Look, I'm okay with this weird shit tradition you have, but he's knocked out and bleeding on my damn chair."

Wren got a towel and placed it gently at the back of Tomás's head. The leak slowed. The wound hadn't been that deep. "At least he's alive."

Knight arched a brow but prepped everything anyway. "Where do you want it?"

I wanted it visible and ran my finger along the space between his thumb and forefinger. "I want it here."

Knight looked at Tomás and then at me. "He's not consenting."

Wren grabbed Tomás head and forced a nod. "I consent," he said in a ridiculous Tomás accent which still sounded like Tony Montana from that drug movie.

"You're an idiot," I deadpanned. "And if you touch him again, I'm going to break your wrist."

Wren gently released him.

The tattoo only took twenty minutes to complete. It was small, and precise. I paid Knight and he slammed the door at our backs.

Wren shook his head. "Fox is going to go ballistic."

"No, he won't," I said with little faith.

Fox went ballistic.

"Are you serious!" Fox roared after we settled inside the cabin. River had quickly taken Tomás to a room to tend to his wounds. Wren remained with Fox and me, probably to act like some sort of referee. I'd never seen my best friend come undone as he did that very moment. "He could be a snitch. Use that information against us!"

And he had every reason to be concerned. I'd fucked up. Tomás had been a beautiful threat ever since I laid eyes on him. Had I been thinking straight, I would've let Jack kill him. Thinking about Tomás dying … I couldn't breathe. I'd never ever wanted anything more than I wanted Tomás breathing. Fuck that. I deserved to keep my toy for as long as I wanted him. I earned that right. And when it came time to end him, it'd be by my hand. No one else.

Something must've registered on my expression because even Fox snapped his mouth closed, grinding his teeth.

"He has my mark and no one," I said, putting as much deadly violence in my voice, "I mean no one is going to touch him. Tell me you understand."

"I understand," Fox gritted out. "Loud and fucking clear."