Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I lift my head to find Santiago standing at the entrance to the waiting room, one arm blocking the door frame, barring Hernandez from entering. Roman steps up beside him and crosses his massive arms over his chest, helping Santiago keep Hernandez away from me. Hernandez doesn't even look at them, though. His dark eyes are focused solely on me, empathy written across his face.
Seeing him standing there shakes loose some emotion other than fear.
"Let him come," I mutter.
Santiago peers over his shoulder at me, clearly hesitant to let him in.
"Let him come," I say again, holding Hernandez's gaze.
"Fuck," Santiago curses and then steps aside, allowing Hernandez to brush past him.
He strides toward me, his boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. "Kincaid, what ha–?"
As soon as my name leaves his lips, I'm out of my seat. Chairs are kicked around and crash to the floor when I grab him by the throat and shove him up against the wall. All the rage I've been trying to find all night crashes down on me. I can't see through the haze of red it leaves behind. I can't think through it.
I don't want to think through it anyway. I desperately want to stop thinking for five minutes.
"Kincaid, goddammit, let him go," Roman demands, trying to pry me off Hernandez.
"You were supposed to be looking for him!" I yell at Hernandez, shaking off Roman's grip. "Goddamn you, Octavio. Where the fuck were you?"
He doesn't say anything. The red haze slowly creeps back, allowing me to actually see him. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised it hasn't shattered. Anger pulses in the depths of his eyes. His body is rigid with tension. He's got his hands up, trying to show he's not a threat, but I can see in his eyes that he wants to fight back.
I wish he would. I wish he'd knock my stupid ass out because I'm in hell, and every single minute without news hurts worse than the last.
"He shot her. He fucking shot her." The words break from my lips in a desperate crack of sound that leaves my throat feeling like it's bleeding. My grip on Hernandez loosens. My knees buckle a split second later. This time, there's no one to catch me.
I crash to the floor as the dam breaks wide open. Pain hits like an explosion, detonating again and again inside my skin. I fall the fuck apart at Hernandez's feet.
I don't care if the cops in the waiting room with me witness it. I don't even care if I survive it. She was so small and so still in my arms. Her blood was all over me, just like Titan's. It was warm on my hands, so goddamn warm. And her skin was so cold and pale.
How's she supposed to breathe when her blood is all over me and she's cold?
"She wasn't breathing," I gasp, planting my fist against the floor to keep myself from collapsing into a ball right there. "They took her from me, and she wasn't fucking breathing."
"Jesus Christ," someone whispers, but I don't know who.
"I traded myself for her. He was supposed to kill me, not her. Why did he shoot her?"
Fuck. Why'd she come back for me? Why didn't she just fucking listen for once in her life and run like I told her to? She was out of there. All she had to do was keep running, but she didn't.
I swore that I wouldn't destroy her this time. I swore that I'd keep her safe, and she wasn't fucking breathing.
"If she dies, someone is going to have to kill me. If they don't, I don't know what I'll do. I can't kill Kaleo. He's already dead. January killed the motherfucker for me. I'll tear this fucking city apart until someone puts a bullet in me."
January thinks I'm not a monster, but she's wrong. She's the only thing that ever kept me from giving in to the rage and hatred that gnashes and claws inside me incessantly. If she dies…if they can't bring her back…I'll dismantle every fucking gang in this city with my bare hands until someone puts a bullet in me. It's the only way I'll stop.
"Don't you dare say that," someone snaps, but it's not one of the cops in the room. It's Mariah, glaring at me with her hands on her hips, tears on her cheeks, and fire in her eyes.
"It's true," I mumble, though I didn't actually mean to say any of that shit out loud. Didn't realize my lips were even moving. It's true, though. Guys like me live and die by the sword. It's what we know. It's what we're good at. And without January, it's the only fucking thing I have left.
"She's not going to die, and neither are you," Mariah growls at me. "She came back for you because she loves you. Jesus Christ, Michael. She tried to kill herself last week, but then she thought about you, and she couldn't go through with it. Every damn time she's wanted to die over the years, she's thought about you. So don't you dare give up on her now."