38. Blaise

I’m losing control.

I can sense that my fragile hold over the panic festering inside me is slowly withering away. Cole has been missing and injured for two days. The more I think about it, the more irrational I become.

I’m speeding down a country lane leading to the abandoned warehouse. The odds that he took them there are slim, but a nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach and a sense of urgency have me pressing down harder on the accelerator.

I check the speedometer as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. What if he’s not there? What if I’m too late?

My phone vibrates in my lap. It’s Dad.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” I mutter, declining the call. The rain has stopped, but dark, ominous clouds still paint the sky a deep shade of blue as thunder rumbles in the distance.

When Dad rings again, I curse under my breath. I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t want to fucking talk to anyone.

“What?” I bark, phone pressed to my ear.

Dad is quiet for a moment. Under normal circumstances, I would never speak to my dad like this, but I’m not myself. His unfeeling, collected, stone-faced son is nowhere to be found as the car flies down a country road in the aftermath of a summer downpour. Water sprays from the wheels as I drive through yet another large puddle. If I’m not careful, I could waterplane, but the thought of the car spinning out of control and crashing into a tree seems like a welcome idea if I’m forced to exist in a world without Cole.

I’ve been a goner from the moment he chased me through the forest and wreaked havoc on my entire fucking world. Back then, while hiding his identity behind a mask, he shook me up from the inside like a snow globe until he stirred up all these complex, fucked-up emotions. Emotions that I don’t know what the fuck to do with. And he did it with such effortless ease; I had no say in the matter. So no, Cole doesn’t get to leave this fucking world without me. I refuse to let his dad take him away from me. I fucking refuse.

I will find him.

I have to find him…

I taste salt, and it’s then I realize I’m crying again. I’ve never cried a fucking tear in my life until Cole.

“Fuck,” I breathe in a shaky tone and wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand.

“Where are you?” Dad asks, his tone softer than I’ve ever heard it.

“Why did you always hate Cole?” I ask, ignoring his question. “You never gave him a chance.”

Dad is silent for a moment before he blows out a soft breath, and I picture him pinching the space between his brows. “It’s not that I hate⁠—”

“Then what, Dad?” I interrupt.

“He has too much of his useless father in him,” he responds as if that’s a reasonable excuse. It’s not. Cole is nothing like his dad, and he’d soon see it, too, if he gave him a damn chance.

“I worried he would have a negative impact on you.”

If he only knew how Cole turned my world upside down. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” The clouds light up as lightning streaks across the sky in the distance. “You didn’t like that you couldn’t control him like everything else in your life.”

“Blaise—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“No, you listen to me for once. I’m sick of you behaving like a tyrant. When we get them back, you owe them an apology.”

“Just…” Another deep exhale. He changes the subject. “Where are you?”

I’m about to reply, when a text message from Cole’s burner pops up on the screen, almost causing me to drive off the road.

“Fuck!” I blurt and grip the steering wheel as I ease up on the accelerator. My heart races. I’m surprised my life didn’t flash before my eyes just then. I hang up on my dad with trembling fingers before pulling up the message. I swallow, bouncing my attention between the wet road and the screen.

Unknown: allersfac45minleavinghury

Shit…

If my heart was racing before, it’s thundering now like the clouds overhead.

My body trembles all over as I drop the phone and grip the steering wheel with both hands. “Calm down, Blaise. Calm the fuck down! He’s alive. He’s still alive,” I chant, failing to get my raging emotions under control. If Cole can’t type properly, then that means… No. Don’t think like that. Something inside me hardens, and I slam my foot down on the accelerator with renewed determination. Time is running out, but I know where he is. My gut instinct was right all along. His crazy father chose to take his family to the one place he thought no one would look, and he didn’t think anyone would find the link tying him to this place.

“I’m coming, Cole. Hang in there, just a little bit longer.”

The countryside blurs on each side of the road, and trees and farmhouses pass by in my periphery.

Where is his dad taking them? What if I arrive too late? What then?

“Shut up!” I white-knuckle the steering wheel as though I can get a semblance of control of my fear and crippling anxiety. It’s a useless battle and one I can’t win, but at least there’s a shimmer of hope—Cole is alive, and I have a location.

Now I need to call the cops and let them know where they are.

Picking up the phone, I swipe the screen and start to type in the emergency number, but I’m trembling so much with adrenaline that the cell slips from my fingers and lands in the footwell.

“Fuck…” My heart sinks to my stomach. “Don’t do anything reckless,” Tiago’s voice whispers in my ear. If he were here now, he’d tell me in his calm, steady voice to pull over by the roadside, retrieve the phone, and call the police. What he wouldn’t tell me is to ignore it and continue driving. But that’s what I do.

I don’t have precious minutes to spare. Cole is waiting for me.

My jaw tightens as I picture him sending that text. When I get there, I’ll skin his dad alive for even thinking he could take him from me. No one touches what’s mine⁠—

My thoughts grind to a halt when I approach the turn-off to the warehouse—a dirt road barely visible behind a cluster of trees. A car approaches the junction before pulling out on the main road.

Cole…

Cole is in that fucking car. I can’t see into the vehicle from here, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s his dad’s getaway car. Who else would visit the warehouse? No one. That road isn’t used, as evidenced by the tall weeds and wildflowers.

“Fuck it…” The blood in my veins boils. Cole’s dad messed with the wrong person.

I don’t even think as I chase their car. No matter what it takes, I won’t let him get away. Not a damn chance. It will be a cold day in hell before I allow anyone to take Cole away from me.

Gaining on them, I lock eyes with Cole’s dad through the driver’s window. We’re side by side, flying down the road at breakneck speed.

Time slows, and the sounds around me grow muted until all I’m aware of is my heart’s steady beat.

Cole’s dad sweats profusely, his eyes blown wide with panic. He’s not thinking straight. Neither am I.

In a swift move, I spin the wheel and ram my car into the side of his. We collide in an ear-splitting crunch of metal. “Stop the car, you motherfucker,” I roar as I fall back, only to do it again. Tires squeal on the road. Malcolm tries desperately to overtake me, but he loses control as we approach a sharp bend in the road, and I watch in slow motion as their vehicle hurtles toward a cluster of trees.

It all happens so fast. One moment we’re side by side, then the next, their car slams into a tree and erupts in flames.

I’ve never been more terrified than when I hit the brakes. The car comes to a sudden stop, and I sit for a moment and stare at the inferno in front of me while their car’s horn blares. My mind roars, struggling to make sense of the situation. Flames engulf the hood, and dark smoke rises into the air. A part of me expects Cole to exit the car and order me to run before he chases after me in his mask—to be his usual bossy self. But no one leaves the car.

Reaching for the handle, I push open the door and climb out with my heart in my throat. The strong scent of burning metal and plastic pricks my nose as I stare at the tall, wild flames. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

Cole…

Crossing the road, I almost slip down the embankment before stumbling toward the car. The hood is wrapped around the tree trunk, reminding me of a crushed can.

Peering inside, I see his unconscious dad trapped between the steering wheel and the seat. Blood trickles from a deep gash on his head, and the seat belt digs into his throat. Static noise fills my ears as I spot Cole in the backseat with his head in his mom’s lap. He’s out cold, by the looks of it, but his mom is slowly coming to. I swallow hard at how pale he is, his hair matted with blood.

“Blaise?” his mom chokes as she blinks her eyes open. They widen when she sees the wild flames.

I don’t need to look to know what she sees—I can feel the heat from the fire. They need to get out of the car before the toxic fumes become suffocating, or worse, the car explodes.

“Blaise…” Her voice is small and shaky. “Help me move him. I can’t… He’s too heavy.”

I spring into action, trying to open the passenger door, but it’s stuck. I try again, yanking hard on the handle. It’s fucking stuck and I can’t open it on the other side either because the car is jammed against a large fir tree. Even if I manage to open the door, the gap is too small to fit through.

“Fuck…” I open the other passenger door beside the driver’s seat and start to climb in, but soon retreat with a loud curse. The windshield smashed when the car crashed into the trunk of the tree, and now the air is too fucking hot. I don’t dare try to haul an unconscious Cole through the middle of the front seats. I don’t even think I can, not on my own, and certainly not before the car is engulfed in flames or goes off like a bomb.

Pacing on the spot, I tear at my hair. Think, Blaise. Fucking think. There has to be another way.

A loud bang comes from the hood, and I duck. Fuck me… What the hell was that? Cole’s mom shouts my name from inside the car, and I whip my head around in search of…something.

A large rock amongst the dried grass catches my attention, and I pick it up before running back over to the car and ordering his mom to shield her face. The window shatters on impact as I drive the rock into it. Glass crunches underfoot as I use the rock to knock out the last remaining jagged edges. After tossing the rock aside, I lean in and lift Cole by the shoulders while his mom shifts to grab his legs. Cole is heavy when he’s conscious and awake, but now? He weighs a ton.

My shoes slide through the dried grass, and I use every ounce of adrenaline to pull him out through the window.

We collapse to the ground, and I scramble upright to pull him to me. Tears gather on my lashes while I run my fingers over the scratches and bruises on his pale face. “I’m sorry…” I brush his matted hair off his brow, then shift his arm out of the way to inspect his gun wound. Nausea rises in my throat as the hole in the blood-soaked material comes into view. I reach for the hem of his T-shirt, about to slide it up when his mom puts her hand on my shoulder. “We need to take him to a hospital, Blaise.”

My first instinct is to hold on to him. I don’t want to lose him again. When his mom crouches down, I tighten my arms around Cole and shake my head.

Soft fingers slide over my cheekbone. “Look at me, Blaise.”

Her eyes glitter with unshed tears. A roadmap of mud streaks and bruises decorates her pale skin.

She smiles softly. “He’s hurt, Blaise.”

My chin trembles, and I start to shake my head again, but she puts her hand on my arm. I drop my gaze to Cole and pull his unconscious body to me, wishing I could turn back time and protect him somehow. “It’s my fault.”

“No…” Her voice softens even more. “None of this is your fault.”

“I should have done something⁠—”

“You couldn’t have stopped him.” She casts a fleeting glance at the tall flames behind me, then squeezes my arm. “Cole needs medical attention. Help me carry him to your car.”

The tears in her pleading eyes slide down her mud-streaked cheeks, and I whisper, “Okay,” before climbing to my feet.

We work in silence, carrying Cole to the car and placing him in the backseat. Shutting the door, I stare at him for a moment. He almost looks as if he’s asleep.

In the distance, thunder rumbles.

“Come on,” Cole’s mom says, her hand on my shoulder. “We need to go.”

“You go ahead.” My voice hardens as I look over at the burning car.

She follows my line of sight. The fire has spread to the cabin. “He’s dead.”

“I need to see his pathetic corpse burn with my own eyes.”

“Blaise…”

“Go.” My hard voice doesn’t broker an argument, and she stares at the fire with me for a moment before she drops her hand from my shoulder and climbs into the car.

I focus on the flames. Overhead, a raindrop falls from the sky and hits my cheek.

More follow, soaking my hair and clothing. I can sense Rachel’s hesitation before she steps on the gas.

I don’t let myself feel relief. Not yet. Not until I know for a fucking fact that Malcolm is dead. I won’t leave here until he burns to a crisp.

The rain is coming down heavier, bouncing against the pavement, threatening to extinguish the flames.

I jog across the road, slide down the embankment, and approach the burning vehicle. The fire hisses as if it fights its inevitable demise. I hold a hand up to protect my face from the intense heat, but I can still feel it threaten to singe my exposed skin.

Bending to look into the cabin, I frown when I find the front seat empty.

“What the fuck?” I breathe out in a disbelieving voice before straightening up to look around, but it’s too late. A hard blow to the back of my head knocks me to my knees, and I groan as hot pain radiates through my skull.

The world spins out of control.

Rough hands fist my T-shirt and haul me up, and then a sour breath laced with alcohol assaults my confused senses. “You really need to stop playing the fucking hero, boy.” The grip on my T-shirt loosens, and I fall to the ground.

Malcom kicks me hard in the stomach, causing me to curl in on myself. Violent coughs rack my body, but he’s far from satisfied. His next kick sends me flying.

I try to crawl away, clawing at the dried grass, vaguely aware of the hissing fire beside us. Malcolm stalks me. He could easily catch up with me and end this torture once and for all while he has the upper hand. Instead, he hunts me. He puts one foot in front of the other, humming under his breath. “Where are you going?”

This time when I cough, blood splutters from my mouth, and that’s when I know I’m in deep trouble. I can barely breathe.

My fingers dig into the dried grass and soil. I wince as a sharp stab of pain stabs at my temple.

Another hard kick in my side forces me closer to the burning car. The heat scorches my back, threatening to melt my clothing if I get too close.

When I try to get up, he knees my chin, and I fall back.

I groan in pain, then choke as more blood floods my mouth, my ribs throbbing with an icy pain that’s at odds with the unbearable heat. I’m weakening.

I spit, trying and failing to push up from the ground.

“You shouldn’t have gotten in my way.” His distorted voice drifts in and out of my consciousness. “I could have been with my family now if it weren’t for you.”

He fists my short hair, and a rippling pain spreads across my scalp.

Cold metal digs into my temple. Malcolm sneers at me. “You won’t get between me and my family again.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss through bloodied, gritted teeth.

I’m convinced he’ll pull the trigger—his finger threatens to—but he chuckles instead before the pistol whips me with such brutal force that my head snaps to the side. I laugh, delirious. If I’m going to die at the hands of a crazy fuck, I might as well show him my true colors.

He might be a drunk whose life spiraled out of control until there was nothing left but ashes, but I don’t accept defeat. And I certainly don’t lose.

“You’re pathetic.” I’m still chuckling, and his eyes darken with anger. “You want to kill me. Do it.”

“With fucking pleasure,” he growls, cocking his gun and lifting his arm.

I launch myself at his ankles, and we crash to the ground. Malcolm tries to kick me, but I’m soon on top of him, fighting to steal his gun. It’s easier said than done. I’m bleeding profusely, my ribs throb with each inhale, and my strength is waning.

A shot goes off, sending birds erupting from nearby trees. Grabbing his wrist, I bang it against the ground. Again and again. The weapon drops from his fingers, but before I can get it, he throws me off, picks it up, and aims it at my head. I barely manage to roll out of the way before he pulls the trigger.

“Shit!” I curse, jumping to my feet and sprinting for cover behind the burning vehicle. It’s too fucking hot, and I’m scared to get too close in case it explodes. Any moment now, it could go boom.

“Stop hiding, you faggot.”

Clutching my sore arm, I wince when my hand comes away slick with blood. I was too high on adrenaline to realize or even feel the pain when he shot me. I doubt he hit an artery, but it’s still bleeding heavily.

I lean back against a tree and rest my head against the trunk. I’m soaked through from the rain, my clothes sticking to my bruised body.

My odds of survival aren’t great. I have a useless arm and no weapon. For the first time, fear trickles into my heart—not of death but of losing Cole. What if I never get to see him again?

More coughs rack my frame, and I grimace as sharp pain lances through my skull and assaults my ribcage.

His boots disturb the grass as he rounds the vehicle, his weathered face coming into view. A raindrop clings to his nose as he lifts his arm and aims the gun at my face.

It strikes me as humorous, and laughter bubbles up from my chest. Here I am, staring death in the face, yet all I can focus on is that single raindrop. We’re comrades, both of us clinging to life.

I wonder who will give up first? Me or the drop?

I try to sit straighter, clutching my midriff, then spit a wad of blood on the dried grass and leaves.

This is it.

The end of the road.

“Any last words?” he asks, his finger steady on the trigger.

“Eat a dick and die.”

A bitter chuckle climbs up his throat for a brief second, but it dies just as quickly, and he pulls the trigger.

Click.

His eyes meet mine and widen. We look at the gun. He tries again.

Click.

Click.

Now I’m laughing for real.

I can’t stop it.

My ribs throb with pain as my stomach muscles contract. Tears stream from my eyes for a different reason.

Malcolm’s eyes harden as a cold rage seeps from his pores. He tosses the gun to the ground and comes for me.

I’m ready for him as I stand up.

When he’s within reach, I use the last of my remaining strength to rugby tackle him. My shoulder connects with his chest, and the breath gets knocked out of him. I shove him hard.

The world slows.

Everything slows.

Malcolm extends his arms as if asking for help, and a pleading look enters his eyes before he cartwheels his arm in a last attempt at regaining balance.

It’s already too late.

He topples back against the car and in through the open passenger door. His shrill, ear-splitting scream fills the air as the sizzling flames engulf his thrashing body.

The air soon fills with the stench of burning clothes and flesh, and I press the back of my bloodied hand against my nose, wafting the air.

Moments later, his screams fall silent, and I cock my head curiously. His upper body and head are burning, but his legs and feet remain outside the car, strangely untouched by the flames.

It’s almost as if I expect them to twitch or something, like in the movies.

When they remain unmoving, I blow out a bored breath and stumble past the burning car toward the road.

I’m growing dizzy, blood dripping from my fingers with every step. I clutch my arm in a bid to stem the bleeding, but I’m struggling to stay upright. I feel like I might faint.

I finally step onto the road and sway on the spot. What do I do now? My phone is in the footwell of the car.

The same damn car Rachel took to the hospital.

My weak laughter rattles my diaphragm. I stumble, barely managing to right myself in time.

I tip my head back and lose myself in the rain against my lashes and cheeks. Maybe I’ll die here today, but at least I can feel the rain on my face one final time.

A wave of nausea comes over me, and I topple back. In the distance, sirens draw nearer.

Maybe it’s my imagination.

Maybe I’m already dead.

Cole’s smiling face is the last thing I see before the world turns black.