Chapter 4
1722 Words
THROUGH FIRE AND SHADOWS
Sebastian’s POV
The noise in my ears covers the anarchy all around me. Thick and stifling, smoke coils upward. My chest opens as I drive off the trash dragging me down. Though I know it's long gone, Scarlett's scared cry keeps coming back to me. She ran—thank you God—but the lonely corridor stretches ahead; all I can think of is getting back to her.
I turn to see blood pouring through my shirt as a stinging agony sears across my side. It's not deep; it's simply another scar in a set I've come to know. I grab the wound and balance myself against the wall to help me to concentrate.
"Scar Scarlett." Her name whispers like a plea before the sound of feet draws me back into the present. Heavy. quantified. They assume they have already won, therefore they are not rushing.
Cole, you have always been a warrior. The voice is mocking, frigid, familiar. Still, you cannot avoid this.
I look toward the sound, my jaw clenching to see him among the smoke. A guy in a custom suit walks forward with nonchalant malice, his face obscured. Damon Lang:
I grumble, standing despite the agony, "you're losing your touch." What's the matter with Lang? Could not buy your way out of this one?
His smile is like a razor sharpener. "It's not about the money. It's about projecting an example from you.
Lang seems not like a man in the thick of anarchy. His outfit is perfect, his posture deliberate. Men like him really flourish in the damage they produce. My hands close, the agony in my side forgotten. Scarlett's life is threatened in part by him. Her running had to be justified.
"You won't touch her," I reply, my voice deadly cold. The words are promises rather than warnings.
He laughs and tips his head. Hello Sebastian. Regarding your weakness for women, you have always been somewhat predictable. Your mother first; then, uh, what was her name? Oh sure, Isabelle. His eyes dance with terrible joy. And Scarlett now.
Isabelle strikes me like a hammer when mentioned, but I try not to let it show. I won't provide him what he wants—a reaction. "Keep talking, Lang," I tell him. Every phrase will cause you remorse.
"Regret?," He gets closer, his shiny sneakers clicking on the floor. Not, Sebastian. Regret belongs to those who lose. And today you are the one going to lose everything.
Ignoring the pulsing agony in my side, I step forward. "You undervalued me in past times. Serious error.
He lifts an eyebrow, not really interested. Cole, you are bleeding out here. As it is. Checkmate this is what you have.
Still standing here, though, is me. My eyes fix on him, frigid and uncompromising. "Your career has been about organizing messes left by others. But you will not clean this one.
His smile stumbles just a little, so I keep on. Lang, you believe you know me. You did not. And you quite sure as heck do not know Scarlett.
"Scar Scarlett." She whispers her name slowly, deliberately, as if she were tasting it. My hands come together into fists. Sebastian, she is only another pawn. Do you honestly believe she is secure right now? I have already triumphed.
"Touch her, then I'll finish you." Though low, my voice has the weight of a vow I will die to uphold.
He chuckles, a loud, piercing sound that frays my nerves. "End my?" Oh, Sebastian. One person being hunted is you. And already dead from where I am standing.
Scarlett's face flashes in my head: her fierce will, the way her eyes flare when she is enraged, the gentleness that remains under her defiance. I won't let Lang reach her. I wouldn't.
In one quick action, I close the gap separating us and grab Lang by the collar and bang him against the wall. "Where is she?," I insist, my voice deadly calm.
He is not flinching; his smile is back. Far enough to make this game intriguing.
"Ask me!" I grab tighter, the force hurting my knuckles. "Where is she?"
He smiles, fangs shining like those of a predator. Soon enough you will find out.
A piercing beeping sound slices through the air before I can reply. My eyes go toward Lang's palm, a little gadget. His smile gets wider as the beeping accelerates and the sound fills my brain.
"Tick-tock," he jokes. Cole, you are running out of time.
I toss him down and seize the gadget from his grasp. Knowing what it is causes my heart to drop. A detonator.
" What did you do?" I snarl and shake him as he chuckles.
"You cannot save her and yourself, Sebastian," he replies, his voice full of joy. "Choose well."
Like a goods train, the words really struck. My mind running, I drop him and dash for the stairway. The screen of the detonator lights red, the countdown running away seconds I do not have.
The chilly night eating at my flesh, I sprang into the wide air. My eyes darted over the room in search of Scarlett. Then I see her standing on the brink of the rooftop, her form shaped by the city lights.
Scarlett! I yell, in a rough voice.
She turns, afraid, eyes wide. From the shadows behind her, a man raises a revolver pointed straight back.
Time slows down when I meet her and the knowledge falls over me. I live far too far away. I won't be late getting to her.
"Sebastian!," she yells, her voice cracking.
The rifle lets out a blast.
And the earth collapses.
Time crawls to a crawl, every minute dragging with the weight of inevitable truth. The bullet slashes over the night air, ringing like a death knell. Scarlett's scream slices through the turmoil, her body jerking back with the power of the blow, and my heart lies in my chest.
"No!" Tears from my throat, raw and uncontrolled come first. I keep forward, legs wriggling with urgency, the rooftop yawning forever between us. Clutching her side, Scarlett crumples to her knees, blood staining her delicate blouse.
Masked and covered in shadow, the gunman does not hesitate. < They get closer; the gun's barrel lowers for a last blast.
"Get away from her!," urged Though I yell with rage, they do not flinch. My mind races, every second a nasty parody of my failing reach to her in time.
Scarlett's emerald eyes wide and begging connect with mine. "Sebastian...'" Her voice is weak and tinged with suffering, yet her words cut through me like a razor. "Don't... don't let them win."
The gunman c***s the pistol, and my vision closes to one, primordial drive: saving her consumes all other ideas. I take a loose piece of metal piping off the ground and throw it with all the force I can generate without thinking.
The rifle skips over the rooftop as the pipe strikes the arm of the shooter with a terrible snap. They stumble, swearing under their breath, but they get back fast and fix their eyes on me.
"Big mistake, Cole," the voice cries, twisted by a voice modulator. I speed to intercept while they rush for the pistol. Just as their hands reach for my throat, my fingers round the weapon.
Their weight down on me as I battle to take control causes us to fall to the ground in a terrible struggle. Rage distorts my eyes, and I smash the butt of the revolver into their mask, breaking the plastic and exposing a face I too often know.
I hiss, Damon, my voice poisonous.
His slanted, wounded but stubborn smile makes me shiver. "Did you suppose any other way would this end?"
Scarlett lets fourth feeble yet lively cries behind me. Though it's only temporary as Damon removes a sleek, silver knife shining under the city lights from his jacket, relief washes me.
"You can't save her, Sebastian," he says, his remarks a nasty repeat of his past taunting. And you are not able to save yourself.
I object to him, but his will is relentless. The knife inches near, its cool steel mirroring my despair. Scarlett's agonizing gasps go fainter behind me, and every thread of my life screams that I can't fail her now.
Both of us turn to see approaching feet, and Damon pauses, staring toward the stairway. As a fresh shadow forms silhouetted against the edge of the rooftop, the suspense becomes thickening. Hope flickers momentarily, then the stranger speaks and my blood freezes.
The voice says, clear and lethal, "Hello, Sebastian." "Looks like you have rather the mess on your hands."
It is not a friend either. It's someone far worse. someone I had feared I would never see again.
"Isabelle," I say, my voice a mix of amazement and anxiety.
Her laughter is terrible; it makes me shudder down my spine. She steps forward, her heels tapping on the pavement as she views the sight with delight and asks, "Miss me?"
Damon smiles, his self-assurance returning as he looks at her. "Take you long enough."
"Had to make an entrance," Isabelle says elegantly, her eyes darting to Scarlett. And just who is this? Oh, Sebastian, you always had a penchant for the damsel in crisis.
Weakly coughing, Scarlett tries to raise her head but finds the effort too much. As I catch Isabelle's stare, my grip on the pistol gets tighter and the weight of her treachery smashes down on me.
"What do you desire, Isabelle?" I demand, my voice consistent in the middle of anarchy around me.
She grins slowly and aggressively, predatory. "Darling, what I have always desired. To observe you falling.
The rooftop shakes under us as the faint sound of an explosion in the distance shocks the air. Isabelle smiles broadly and points toward the skyline.
With a sarcastic tone, "Tick-tock, Sebastian," she adds. "The game is just getting started."
And Damon leaps with that, the knife shining as it flies at me. The world tilts, the weight of the moment slamming down with the intensity of a storm, echoing Scarlett's shriek in my ears.
And I understand at that same moment I might not be able to save us both.
- Writer
