Chapter 181 up
Evan screamed.
The sound tore out of him before he knew he was making it, sharp and ragged, ripping through his throat until it hurt. He didn’t remember deciding to scream. His body did it for him, the way it had decided to grab Nyla’s hand earlier, the way it now decided that silence was impossible.
“Nyla!”
She was on the ground.
That was the first thing his mind understood clearly—that something had gone terribly wrong because Nyla was not standing anymore. Nyla always stood. She stood in doorways, in front of him, between him and loud voices, between him and things that wanted too much.
Now she was on the asphalt.
Her face was turned sideways, pressed against the ground like she had tripped and hadn’t gotten back up yet. Evan waited for her to move, to push herself up the way she always did when she fell while teaching him how to ride a bike or when she slipped on wet pavement and laughed it off.
She didn’t.
Blood shone at the corner of her mouth, dark and wrong. Evan had seen blood before—small amounts, scraped knees, paper cuts. This was different. This stayed.
“Nyla!” he screamed again.
She moved then, just a little. Her arm lifted, shaking so badly it looked like it might fall apart. Her fingers reached toward him, stretching, trembling.
She tried to sit up.
She failed.
Her elbow slipped. Her body sagged, collapsing back onto the pavement with a sound that made Evan cry out again, louder this time, like the noise itself had hit him.
Something grabbed his arm.
Hands. Too big. Too tight.
“No!” Evan yelled, twisting instinctively, trying to run to her. His feet left the ground for a moment as someone lifted him, and panic exploded in his chest.
“Nyla, I’m here! I’m here!”
She turned her head toward his voice. Her eyes were open, but they didn’t look right. They looked glassy, unfocused, like she was underwater.
She tried to say something.
Evan couldn’t hear it.
He kicked.
His heel connected with something solid—someone’s leg, maybe. He felt the jolt shoot up through his foot. The man swore.
Evan kicked again.
“Let go of me!” he screamed.
They didn’t.
Another hand grabbed his other arm, pulling him backward. The world tilted violently as they started dragging him away from Nyla, away from the place where she lay on the ground, bleeding.
“No! Stop!” Evan cried. “She’s hurt! She needs help!”
He twisted his body, arching his back the way he had once learned to do when someone tried to pick him up without warning. His teeth snapped shut on a wrist that came too close.
The man shouted in pain and yanked his arm back.
“Shit—!”
Evan tasted salt and metal. He gagged but didn’t let go until he was shaken violently.
“Don’t bite!” someone yelled.
“Don’t touch me!” Evan screamed back, his voice cracking. “Don’t touch me!”
They kept moving.
The street seemed longer now, stretching cruelly as Nyla grew farther away with every step. Evan twisted his head over his shoulder, straining to see her.
She was still there.
Still on the ground.
Still trying.
She pushed herself up again, her hands slipping on the pavement. Her face twisted in pain, and she made a sound Evan had never heard her make before—small and broken and terrified.
She reached for him again.
Evan sobbed.
“I’m here!” he shouted. “I’m here—don’t leave me!”
A man’s hand clamped over his mouth.
Evan screamed into it, the sound muffled but furious. He bit down hard.
The hand pulled away with a curse.
“Hold him,” one of them said sharply. “Just hold him.”
Arms wrapped around Evan’s chest from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He thrashed, his body burning with energy that had nowhere to go.
“Nyla!” he screamed again, the word ripping his throat raw.
She saw him.
He knew she did.
Their eyes met for a second—a single, unbearable second where the world narrowed to just them. Evan saw her fear then, not for herself, but for him. He saw the way her eyes widened as she realized how far away he already was.
Her hand lifted again.
“Evan,” she whispered.
He heard it this time. Barely. But it was there.
“I’m here!” he cried. “I’m not leaving you!”
The man holding him tightened his grip, lifting Evan off the ground entirely now. His feet kicked uselessly in the air.
“Put me down!” Evan screamed. “Put me down!”
They turned the corner.
Nyla disappeared from view.
Something inside Evan broke.
“No!” he shrieked, the sound tearing out of him like it was being pulled from somewhere deep and painful. He fought harder then—kicking, twisting, slamming his head backward into the man’s chest.
The man grunted, winded.
Evan took the chance.
He bit again—harder this time—sinking his teeth into skin with everything he had. The man roared in pain and released him slightly.
Evan wrenched one arm free and swung wildly, hitting nothing, something, anything.
“Don’t touch me!” he screamed. “She’s my person!”
The words came from somewhere deeper than thought. They weren’t planned. They were true in a way Evan didn’t know how to explain.
“She’s my person!” he shouted again, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You can’t take me!”
The men didn’t answer.
They never answered his words. They only adjusted their grip, tighter now, more careful, like he was something dangerous because he refused to be quiet.
Evan’s chest hurt. His breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps. Tears streamed down his face, blurring everything until the world became a smear of color and movement.
He kept fighting anyway.
He kicked until his legs ached. He scratched until his fingers burned. He screamed until his throat felt raw and broken.
Images kept flashing in his mind without permission—Nyla tying his shoes, Nyla sitting on the edge of his bed at night, Nyla’s voice saying, I’m here.
“She’s hurt,” he sobbed. “She needs help.”
A hand shoved his head forward, pressing his face into a jacket that smelled like smoke and sweat. He gagged, panic flaring again.
“Quiet,” someone said. “Stop screaming.”
Evan screamed harder.
“Don’t touch me!” he cried. “She’s my person!”
The sentence felt like a shield, like if he said it enough times, it would make them stop. Like it would remind the world of something important it was trying to forget.
They didn’t stop.
They carried him faster now.
Evan’s body started to shake uncontrollably—not with fear alone, but with rage. Hot, burning anger that filled his chest until it hurt.
How dare they.
How dare they touch her.
How dare they take him.
He twisted again, fighting until his muscles screamed in protest. His vision blurred with tears, but he forced his eyes open anyway, terrified that if he closed them, Nyla would disappear completely.
He couldn’t see her anymore.
That hurt more than anything.
His voice finally broke completely, splintering into sobs that tore through him even as he kept yelling her name. The sound of it echoed uselessly against buildings that didn’t care.