Zayne was stable.
Fucking finally.
The doctor had done something, messed with his drips, stabilized him, and I should've been relieved. Should've.
Instead, as soon as we stepped out of that goddamn room, I had the bastard by the throat.
His pulse hammered against my palm, his body dangling just slightly off the ground, feet scraping against the pristine floor. The moment his hands came up to claw at mine, I squeezed harder. I wanted to feel his windpipe give out. Wanted to hear the desperate little gasps for air as he realized just how fucking close he was to meeting his god.
"What did you give him?" My voice was too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a bloodbath.
The doctor's eyes were wide, the stark white of them almost bulging out of his skull as he stammered, "It-it was just-"
"Speak."
"It was tranquilizers-"
Tranquilizers.
My vision went black around the edges.
"I said not to give him any other medication, didn't I?" The words scraped through my teeth.
Zayne didn't need their fucking drugs. He needed me.
He needed love. Not whatever cocktail of chemicals they pumped into his veins to make him quiet. He was already too quiet. Too fragile. And now they wanted to sedate him? Numb him until he stopped screaming?
No.
The doctor was trembling now, sweat dripping down his forehead, his hands weakly clawing at my grip. I could feel the faint pulse beneath his skin, quick and terrified, and I wanted to press just a little harder.
I wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes.
I wanted to-
Soft hands wrapped around my arm.
Fuck.
Not now, Ptichka.
"Judas..."
Her voice was quiet, feather-light. A whisper against the storm roaring inside me.
I let go.
The doctor hit the floor like a sack of bones, coughing and wheezing, hands clutching his throat as he scrambled back, away from me. But I wasn't looking at him anymore. I was looking at her.
Ptichka.
She was standing too close, too fucking close, and I could feel the heat of her skin, the warmth of her breath, the weight of her concern pressing into me like a goddamn vice.
I stepped back.
Kept my hands at my sides.
Distance.
I needed distance.
Because if I touched her now, I didn't know what I would do. I didn't know what was clawing up my throat, rattling against my ribs, tearing through my fucking skull.
I shouldn't be here.
I should be killing Lucius.
But I wasn't.
I was here. Watching my brother fall apart. Watching him slip into a darkness I couldn't pull him from.
And all I could think about was how this was my fucking fault.
Because I had been there.
I had fucking been there.
I had watched the step-doctor mess with his drips.
Watched as he adjusted something, just a fraction, just enough to make my skin itch.
And I had done nothing.
Nothing.
Because I had already learned what happened when you made a noise. When you stepped out of line.
You paid for it.
And Zayne-Zayne had paid for it in ways no one ever should.
Memories slammed into me like a fucking freight train.
The way he used to hide behind me when he was small, when he still had soft cheeks and big eyes that clung to me like I was the only thing in the world keeping him safe.
The way his screams used to echo through the house at night, muffled only by the weight of my own fucking silence.
The way he used to look at me.
Like I could save him.
Like I could protect him.
Like I was something more than a monster.
And now?
Now he didn't look at me at all.
He looked through me. Around me. Past me.
Like I wasn't even fucking there.
Like he was already gone.
And I didn't know how to bring him back.
The thought made something ugly twist inside me. Something dark.
I turned my head, barely looking at my little bird as I spoke. "Stay out of this."
She stiffened.
I didn't care.
I couldn't care.
Because if I let myself feel anything right now, I would break something. Someone.
And I didn't know if I'd be able to stop.
I stormed out of the hospital.
The cold air hit me like a slap, sharp and biting, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough. I needed something stronger. Something that could burn through the rotting heaviness in my chest.
My hands found the cigarette pack in my coat pocket before I even thought about it. My fingers were steady, too steady, as I pulled one out and lit it with a flick of my lighter. The flame danced for a second before dying, swallowed by the wind, but the ember at the tip of my cigarette remained.
I took a slow drag.
The smoke curled into my lungs, thick and bitter, settling deep in my chest like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
I exhaled.
Watched as the smoke twisted in the air, vanishing into nothing.
Just like everything else.
Just like Zayne.
I closed my eyes, tilting my head back as I rested against the hood of my car. The weight in my chest hadn't lessened. If anything, it had gotten worse, spreading through my ribs like decay, wrapping around my lungs, squeezing.
I should've been inside.
I should've been with him.
But I wasn't.
I was here, trying to breathe through the rage clawing up my throat.
Trying to stop myself from walking back into that room and breaking every single doctor who had failed him.
Trying-fuck-trying to stop myself from going back to her.
Ptichka.
She had touched me. Again.
She had reached for me like she had a right to. Like she knew me. Like she could pull me back. And the worst part? She almost had. Almost.
A bitter laugh left my lips, low and humourless, and I dragged another breath from my cigarette.
No.
I couldn't let that happen.
I had already let her too fucking close.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to do what I should've done years ago.
I pulled my phone out and dialed the number.
It rang twice before a gruff voice answered, "What?"
Kyle.
"Find him," I ordered.
There was a pause. A slight shift in the air. Then, "Lucius?"
I took another slow drag, my grip tightening around the phone.
"Yes."
Kyle sighed, long and tired, but there was no argument. He knew better.
"I'll call you when I have something."
The line went dead.
I flicked the cigarette away, watching as the ember sparked against the pavement before fading into the darkness.
Then I got in the car.
I didn't know where I was going.
Didn't care.
I just needed to move.
The engine roared to life, the low hum vibrating through my chest as I gripped the wheel. My foot pressed down, slow at first, then harder. The tires screeched against the asphalt as I tore out of the parking lot, disappearing into the empty streets.
The city blurred around me. Neon lights, dark alleyways, empty sidewalks. It was late. Too late for anyone to be out.
Except me.
I drove with no direction, no destination, just the overwhelming need to be anywhere but there.
I should've felt free.
But I wasn't leaving my demons behind.
I was leaving peace behind.
I was leaving her behind.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if I could live with that.
No matter how it'd end, I'd kill Lucius today no matter what. Even if it killed me.