➵ Chapter 54-9

"I did like your parents. Truly. They were good people. Not sure I can say the same of you, Astraea." I threw out my hands, trying to crawl toward the fire escape. His shoes slammed down onto my back and threw me back onto the ground, pinning me in my place. "You can't get out this one," he said. "This is where your story ends. Fitting, isn't it? For it to conclude where this whole mess began?" He grabbed me by the hair, forcing me to my knees. "Look around. Has it changed much?" "Screw you." He let go, sitting on edge of my old bed, watching me slump to the ground and bleed. My eyelids were heavy. Bug floated in through the doorway and landed on the curve of my wrist, and I smiled tiredly. The camera was on and streaming. Everyone would know the truth. It would be okay. I was going to die and it was okay. I was okay. Another set of footsteps started toward me, and Polk rose up, gun aimed at the boy who set foot in the room, his own weapon ready. Jace didn't hesitate to fire. The first shot caught Polk in his dominant arm, sending his gun flying out his grasp. But before Jace could shoot again, the bedroom's window shattered, and Jace stumbled back, hitting the wall as one bullet hit him after the other. Two in one leg, one to the chest. Bug flew off my wrist, disappearing to watch from elsewhere. Polk strode over, taking Jace's gun. "Sniper," he said. "I've got them scattered about, with those wonderful guns aimed at your friends' heads. Most of them are in this building. Made sense to set up here, especially since your friends would keep the fight outside." Jace struggled to breathe, his eyes fixed on me. "All I have to do is give the order, and they all drop dead. The Circle, at least. The Sect will take a bit more time to kill off. Luckily, Logan Black didn't bring too many of them to the party." He stood by the window, bleeding, watching everything transpire below. "And once I grow bored, I will give the order." Jace looked helplessly at the wound in his chest and back at me, dark eyes saddened. With a groan, he dragged himself as close to me as he could. I locked my fingers with Jace's bloodied ones, trying to keep my eyes open. Polk didn't try separating us, choosing to gaze out at the blood being spilled instead. "He'll kill the others too," I whispered. Jace looked down at the pouch hanging from his belt. It was identical to the one Eric used. When he pulled it open, out fell half a dozen of the remodeled grenades. They spilled everywhere. Under the bed, out the door, toward the window. One rolled right into my hand. "We can save them." He was right. We could. We could save them by blowing every grenade we had, demolishing the building, virtually taking out ever sniper. His hand brushed over my cheek, his lips pressed to mine. "Oh, Lia." We could still save them. My eyes stung, but I smiled. "I love you." "I know, Robin." I looked down at the little explosive in my hand and choked out a laugh, not even thinking to wipe away the blood that dribbled down my face. "What's so funny?" Polk asked. "Is this the denial stage?" "I win." "How so?" "I'm going to kill you." He laughed too and I let the grenade roll out my hand and between his feet. Jace closed his eyes, and I did too. I uttered a single word before fading, peacefully giving into the fatigue and darkness that beckoned for me, allowing the serenity of finally letting go wash over me. ➵ Hell, I thought, swimming into semiconsciousness, should not smell so heavily of antiseptic. It took a second to realize that I wasn't dead. That if I were, my head wouldn't be pounding, nor would my body feel as if it were being lit on fire every time I took a breath. Something sharp pinched at one of my arms - tubes. Needles. Though I knew where I was, I was too frightened to open my eyes. Jacian, I remembered, and my eyes shot open. There was no blood. No gore. No screaming. Just a piercing pain in my body, and the gentle beeping of the machines I was hooked up to. I lifted the arm that wasn't covered with tubes and needles, my shoulder aching as I turned it, staring at the bandages that were wrapped around my wrist. My fingers moved at my command, stiff, but functional. Without looking, I reached over to tear out the tubes, biting back a scream. Before I lost my nerve, I ripped off wires that were stuck to my chest. I swung my legs out of bed, keeping my lips pressed together, and grabbing the edges of the bed tight before standing. The dark room spun before me, and I stood still, trying to catch my breath as I waited for it to stop. When it showed no sign of stopping, I let go, trying to walk slowly to stay steady, gaze fixed on the door. There was a stitch in my chest, piercing pain shooting throughout my body. My legs nearly gave out when I made it through the door, suddenly thrust into a world of ear-shattering yells and harsh lights. I kept moving forward, one step after the next. In the chaos of whatever was happening, I went unnoticed. Once I wandered into another hallway, I came to the realization that I hadn't the slightest idea where I was going. That the only thing my distorted mind was supplying was his name, over and over, with the worst scenarios of what could have become of him. The pain was getting worse. Step forward. Breathe. My legs wobbled. Step forward. Warped vision blurred. Step forward. The agony intensified, and I looked down at the expanding spot of blood on my hospital gown, feeling the warmth of it as it trickled down my torso. All the lights went out at once.