Fifth a Fury

I shivered and looked at the exit.

It would be wise to leave.

Smart not to have a graphic murder blatant in my mind.

But I needed to know for sure that Drake was no longer breathing. I needed it for my own peace of mind, and to be able to look Sully in the eyes when he woke.

I needed to be able to vow that Drake could never hurt us again. That I’d witnessed his extermination.

Sully needed that.

He needed to claim his trust back from the brother who had stolen it.

Shaking my head, I crossed my arms and locked my gaze on Drake.

He twitched and gasped, more drool covering his cheek. The astringent whiff of urine tainted the air as he wet himself.

“I’ll watch.”

“No. I must insist—”

“I’ll. Watch.” I didn’t take my eyes off Drake. “Do it.”

The mercenary huffed and paused for a moment. “Seeing death can affect people in different ways.”

“If Sully doesn’t wake up from death, I am already well acquainted with it.” I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’ll be fine. Do it.”

He shrugged and marched toward Drake. Glancing at the closed doors leading to the rest of the house, he pressed the muzzle of the silencer against Drake’s temple.

Drake keened, sounding exactly like something stuck in a slaughter chute.

Locking gazes with me, the mercenary pulled the trigger.

The soft pop made me jolt.

The sudden silence of a wretched moan.

The coldness of a life being ended.

He was right.

Watching a merciless murder did change me.

It hardened my heart.

It dried up my tears.

It made me older, wiser, and far more accepting of my new given power.

I’d just killed a man.

I might not have blood on my hands, but I did on my voice. I’d commanded, and it had happened.

I swallowed hard.

Striding forward, I avoided the gruesome puddles of human waste and looked into Drake’s blank stare.

No breath. No blink. Nothing.

I waited for regret. I froze for self-hatred and panic over what I’d done.

But I only felt relief.

I’d killed him to protect the man I loved, but I’d also killed out of mercy.

It’s done.

Perhaps now that one brother had been freed from purgatory, the other one could be too.

A trap that worked both ways...freeing both at the same time.

Sully...

Urgency filled me and I ran to the door. “We need to get back to the hospital. Now.”

* * * * *

Sully was still trapped.

Still too far for me to reach him.

If anything, he seemed further away—his skin icy, his breath slower, his heartbeat not nearly as strong.

Sully...please.

Wake up.

I sat by his bedside.

I’d sat beside him since I’d killed Drake and returned to the hospital.

Another night and I hadn’t slept.

A new dawn and still Sully didn’t wake.

I’d stayed vigil beside him, but I hadn’t reached out to touch his hand.

Something held me back.

Anger perhaps?

Confusion?

Fear?

I was angry because he’d proven to be even more coldblooded than I thought.

I was confused that I could ignore such things because I loved him.

And I was afraid he would die, regardless of me taking his brother’s life on his behalf.

And I’m lonely.

So, so lonely.

I missed him.

I was lost without him.

I was tired of having to be strong, and knew the chance of any peaceful rest was far, far away.

I couldn’t rest until he was awake.

I couldn’t trust that he would still be here while I slept, almost as if we were tethered by a string that kept him from falling deeper into a soundless abyss.

I promised I would do whatever it took to keep him safe and alive, even if it meant sitting in a hospital chair in a snowy city for the rest of my life.

Closing my eyes, I flinched as images of him suffering a heart attack found me again.

His grunt of agony.

The thud when he fell.

His final gasp.

No!

I tore them open, focusing on his slack, handsome face.

I needed a distraction.

Or a sedative.

The phone ringing sliced through the heavy dawn silence.

I snatched the phone gratefully. “Dr Campbell?”

“Yes, hi. How’re you holding up, Eleanor?”

I cleared my throat, keeping myself cool and brave. “I’m fine. Sully is still asleep. The doctor popped in an hour ago to assure me it’s perfectly natural for a body to shut down after such an event and told me I just need to be patient.” I balled my hand in my lap. “The thing is...he’s fading. Don’t ask me how I know...I just do. I feel it. He’s not got anything to fight for here.”

“He’s got you.”

“It’s not enough.”

“You’re more than enough.”

“He needs to go home.”

He paused before saying, “It so happens that I agree with you.”

I sat taller. “You do? Is it possible?”

“Sinclair’s bank balance is going to take a serious hit with the exorbitant cost of such medical repatriation, but yes...it’s possible. I’ve arranged a special charter and purchased the time of his current doctors to make the journey with him.”

“When?”

“Tonight. If he remains stable for another twelve hours, they’re satisfied to take the risk transporting him.”

My heart pounded.

Home.

Islands and sunshine and Skittles.

“It will help. I know it will.”

“It might.” His voice turned sceptical but honest. “You have to prepare yourself, though, Eleanor. He might not survive the journey. He might go into cardiac arrest again and not return.”

“He might do that here.”

“That’s true. I’ve informed the doctors of the ingredients and side effects of Tritec-87. Hopefully, they’ll be able to adjust his treatment accordingly until he lands on home soil...or sand, as the case may be.”

I closed my eyes, bowing my head. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This might be a suicide mission.”

Needing a distraction before my mind raced with all the things that could go wrong, I asked, “How’s Jess? Skittles? Cal?”

Dr Campbell sighed. “Cal is operational, Skittles is healing, and Jess...she’s holding on. I hope for both our sakes that Sinclair handles his upcoming journey and Jess wakes soon. I’ll call you again when it’s time to leave. For now, rest and get ready for the longest trip of your life.”

Chapter Eighteen

IT WAS LIKE BEING trapped inside a monochrome kaleidoscope.

A tumbling, refracting kaleidoscope that was all blacks, greys, and shadows with no escape.

But instead of the chaos being visual, it was auditory with the occasional scent and the quick comings and goings of heat.

The longer I remained trapped, the more I strained to understand my new world.

For the first part of my prison sentence, I’d felt nothing.

I was just an inconsequential speck floating around, adrift and unwanted. A speck of no substance or history. No knowledge of who I was—just a vessel of lost memories.