CONTAINS CONTENT:
Brief, mild language and violence.
{{Unedited}}
The only person who just barely made it onto the plane was Austin. He sprinted to the door about one minute from it closing for good.
“Nice of you to join us,” Liam growled, from the doorway to the loading bridge. Austin said nothing, and Liam led him down and onto the plane.
Liam’s seat was near the emergency exit and the slide that blew up if a crash occurred. Even with the space before him, there wasn’t enough room. He sighed and turned to Sabine, she was buried in some horror novel that he’d never heard of, and had already eaten twenty or more pages of it. John was sitting next to her in a giant hooded sweatshirt with the strings drawn, and giant sunglasses. “That’s it,” Liam growled. “First things first, when we get back to Valorant… we’re getting or-” he glanced back at Klara and Tayane; they were sharing headphones and smiling as their upper halves swayed to whatever they were listening to, “-building our own plane.”
Sabine chuckled into her book, but said nothing.
Liam had already been cleared as safe and able to handle the door situation if needed. “Mame,” he’d said to the stewardess, “I served first as a firefighter, and then in the United States military for fifteen long years. I can handle an upgraded blow-up doll.” The stewardess scoffed and stomped away to get the carts.
Austin passed Vincent and Marielle on his right. Both ignored him. They were quietly talking… maybe she hadn’t seen him.
He made his way to his window seat and tucked his carry-on up top, sitting in silence as he drowned out the noise and judgment from others with some earbuds and music. It did little to stop the aching in his chest. Was it his imagination or did Marielle look distressed…or distracted?
Kirra smiled at him from across and two rows back in a way that suggested that she wanted him to join her, and he gave her a polite smile back before his attention went to the window again. He had no intentions of it.
The pilot spoke, the stewardesses gave their regular spiels about plane and cabin safety and lights overhead; thirteen hour plus flight. He was already putting his palms into his eyes.
The plane took off, and for a good twenty minutes there was blessed silence and nothing happened.
The stewardess that came by to offer a drink was pretty; younger than him, and Italian. He didn’t care. The Austin from ten weeks ago would have been stealing glances of her backside as she walked away, and possibly trying to get her into the bathroom with him before the plane landed. When she asked him if he wanted anything, all he said was, “Jack and coke?” She nodded, albeit a bit sheepishly.
He saw her go to the back and giggle with the other flight attendants, completely oblivious to the fact that he spoke Italian as they carried on.
“Did you see him?”
“Oh my god, I’ll call him daddy any day.”
“He can call me mommy,” that from the elder of all of them.
“Do you think he’s single?”
“He’s alone.”
“He’s probably gay. That’d be my luck, right?”
“Think he’d believe me if I told him I was security and I needed to frisk him?” Lots of laughs from that one.
When she came back with his drink, she tried her best pretty smile on as she handed it to him.
“Grazie signorina,” he said with a knowing grin. She went wide eyed and pale, grinning wildly, and ran back to the others.
They were all too embarrassed to look at him the rest of the flight, except for the older one who was nice to him the rest of the way, even calling him pet names like “baby” and “love.” He loved it, secretly, but the attention did little to make him feel any better. He just enjoyed the feeling of someone acting like they weren’t intimidated by him. He’d had very little of any such thing in his lifetime.
One hour down, twelve to go. Maybe he could watch a few movies; The Lord of the Rings was long.
Austin rifled through his wallet for a moment, then slowly pulled out a familiar object… a playing card; Queen of Hearts. He rested his head back as he tapped it against the side of his knee.
When Marielle slid in next to him, he pressed it against his thigh, and slid it up to his pocket, where he hid it.
“Hey,” she said, quietly and it send shivers up his back.
“Hi.” Neither of them was looking at each other. “How are you doing?” He finally asked, removing the ear bud from his right ear.
“Haven’t flown in a while,” she began, then she paused, biting her lip. “I’m in a lot of pain,” she whispered.
He finally turned, narrowing his eyes at her, “Wh-…” he looked her over, then noted how she was leaning against the chair; her back hardly making any contact with it. He reached over and pulled the back of her shirt down a little, and saw the bright silver, surrounded by puffy red welts on her skin. His mouth made a silent O and his eyes became dark. “What did he do?” he hissed, darkly.
“I asked him to.” She replied.
“Why would you want that…?” He glowered at her.
“I wanted it, that’s all that needs to be said about it,” she said tightly.
Disgusted, he looked away and glared out the window at… nothing; cloud tops mostly. “So why are you coming to me with it?” he growled after a moment. He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, scratched his right arm, and finally settled with his arms over his chest.
“It burns.”
He chuckled incongruously. “So, you need me to cool an ache that Vincent caused… how ironic.” He swallowed hard.
“Austin,” she whispered leaning toward him a little and it sent tendrils of pleasure down his arms and spine. “Please?” she begged.
He turned away. “You’re a damn fool.”
“What, you know so much about it, Austin?” She growled.
If this had been any other woman, he would have said something to effect of, ‘do me a favor? Piss off.’ He took in a deep breath and met eyes with her.
-It hurts so bad. Vincent made a spray for it to help alleviate the pain, but it’s still like my skin is on fire. I can’t imagine what it felt like for him when he did it.
Compassion was the only response he found inside. He shakily lifted his hand -I’ll cool you down, darling. And put it against her, behind her neck, then he passed cool air through his fingertips, easing her skin and soothing it.
She breathed out, relieved.
He looked away, feeling the power that she had over him. She loved Vincent, she wanted him. End story, right? He just didn’t think he could ever find the courage to ask her anything more at this point. In a few weeks? Maybe. But in a few weeks, they could all be dead. That wasn’t the plan of course, but things could go wrong.
He had no idea where he stood anymore, either. -Say, on our wedding night? He shuddered at the memory of her hearing his thoughts say that, but in a good way. Did he really want to marry her? Did he really want to go through that agai-… he did, didn’t he? He wanted to keep her forever because she made him happy. Well, not right now. Now she was causing him the most misery that he’d ever felt. But that was how he knew that something was different.
He’d never felt true and terrible misery over a woman. He couldn’t even say that he had after Erin left. If he were honest with himself, after the initial pain of abandonment and failure wore off, he was thrilled. Free. He’d spent three nights straight in the local strip club, and two more after the fact with some girl he’d met at one of them. He couldn’t even remember her name. He could hardly remember what she looked like except that she had dark hair.
What he did recall was that shortly thereafter, his addiction was in full swing- entirely out of control. He saw prostitutes regularly, met women and the occasional guy at bars two or three times a week, and filled the rest of that need with porn, adult phone lines, magazines, erotic stories, and everything else he could get his hands on that briefly satisfied the demon. But, shortly after the worst of it, he started to hate himself again.
When the women were gone, he was alone. When the men left, he was alone. When the porn did its job… he was alone, and Marielle’s words kept playing over and over again in his head now. -You’re going to die alone. Yes… he was if he couldn’t kick this thing. She was right. He’d be forgotten, unloved, and undesired. He would vanish for all of time.
When he’d gotten up that morning before his run for the plane, he’d sat down at his computer to check important business-related emails. Then, with a shaking hand, he paused… First, he wanted to open his folders; the ones that possessed all the delicious pictures and videos that he used frequently.
He’d opened the first folder up, and realized with a strange curiosity that there was nothing going on in his mind; nothing that made him want to continue. He lifted the mouse, hovered it over the first photo and clicked delete. He let out a ragged breath… delete… delete… These were all his favorite toys, and he was slowly throwing them to the garbage. Delete… delete, he’d loved her smile… delete… he’d loved her body… delete… he loved her smile, body, and voice… delete. He paused… a video. He pressed play. She was looking up at him with gorgeous blue eyes, a look that said something to the effect of, ‘I didn’t say you could film me,’ but not being totally upset at him. He was chuckling behind the camera. “Come on, say it.”
“I love you, Joe,” she whispered.
His eyes squeezed shut. He’d believed her. He believed her every time he played that video. Jakkie… Sharon. He put his fingertips to the screen, the video looped. “I love you, Joe.” It looped again.
He closed his eyes. She never loved him, and he’d never loved her. He’d never given up a damn thing for her, except money. “Goodbye.” Delete.
After some point it got easier, and instead of looking first and trying to decide which to keep and which to save- he realized that wasn’t the point of this exercise. If he was going to save any of them, he should just go restore them all from the trash folder. Instead, he selected all of them and deleted them all, then emptied the trash bin on the desktop.
Then he deleted entire folders without opening them at all. Ten total.
The panic that had set in had caused him to nearly vomit. He told himself that he could still go find most of it on the internet. Then reminded himself that the point wasn’t to go find it again. So, he told himself that he wouldn’t, but reminded himself that he could if the anxiety became too much to handle.
Then he dragged himself to a hot shower, and bolted for the airport.
Now he was on the plane… with the scent of roses sitting next to him; tickling his senses and teasing him. “Why are you still sitting here? You told me that you were gonna avoid me for a while,” he sighed, turning to her.
Her thoughts just couldn’t stop themselves. -It’s been a while. He scoffed, chuckling silently. –And I told you… I have an addiction.
His heart pounded, as he rubbed his bottom lip with his finger. He wanted that kiss so badly. He shakily slipped his left hand down between the two of them, praying that she’d take his hand where no one could see. To his surprise and elation, she did, intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms together. -You’re mine. He meant addiction, but for a moment it seemed like he was telling her that she was his possession, and something about that made her more lightheaded than the mild feeling of weightlessness from being in the air.
She swallowed hard. -I know, Austin.
He touched the back of her neck once more, cooling her. -What do we do?
She sighed with relief. Her eyes fluttered, but felt gummy and dry from fitful sleep. -I don’t know. There was a long pause. Neither thought or said anything. She let go of his hand when one of the stewardesses walked by. -We’ll work it out, later.
She started back to Vincent.
Vincent was in his own world in that moment, staring out the window, fingers under his chin. Memories hung over him like a dark cloud. He was thumbing his own lip in concern as he glanced back at his “wife” … holding another man’s hand while she thought that he didn’t know, and the memories came flooding in.
***
He opened the door quickly, knowing who it would be. She stood on his porch, shaking. Black makeup dripped down her pale cheeks; her red lipstick smeared. There was a fresh mark on her neck… teeth. The marks were deep, they were already turning purple, a fresh bruise was over her right eyebrow. She smelled like alcohol… on her neck.
She was dressed in a short, white dress with tall heeled boots and fishnet stockings. Her hair was long and stringy, in a high ponytail and a peacoat was hanging loosely off her shoulders. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that she was a prostitute. She didn’t do this to herself, this was all Austin.
“Mon Dieu, come in,” he said, taking hold of her and pulling her against him. She hid her face in his chest and sobbed. “What did he do to you?”
She sniffled several times and pulled back, using a tissue that had been balled up in her hand. The black remained and smeared even more doing nothing good for her racoon eyes. “I’ve left him, it’s done.” She wandered passed him moving like she was in a haze. “I gave him my right hook, too… and my knee. He’ll be feeling that for a few days,” she chuckled, ironically. But after the laugh, she collapsed on his cream couch in a mess. He closed the door and rushed to her side, sitting with her. “Why can’t I let him go?”
“Because you’re so connected,” he’d reminded her.
She knew, but he guessed that having someone else say it out loud let her finalize it as the reason in her mind. She nodded. “Oui.” She said with a small nod. “We are very connected. I always believe him when he says it’s the last time,” she sighed and put her face into her hands again. “I think the problem is that when Austin says that he’ll stop- when he promises that he won’t go out again or… see other women. Or that it’s the last time that he-” her voice trailed off. Vincent knew about the physical abuse. “I think in that moment, he really means it and that’s why I always believe him. He’s so stuck in his own addiction that he believes that he can get better but-” she lifted her blotchy face and looked into Vincent’s eyes, “-he just can’t. I think part of the problem is that I gave into him a week after we first met.” She shook her head from side to side, “I never made him wait for anything and I was stupid enough to believe that it wouldn’t get that bad. He’s a little boy who always gets what he wants.” Her eyes found Vincent’s, “He’s obsessed with me, you know?”
“Marielle…” Vincent murmured, “Masin…” he whispered this was the first time that he’d called her this and she forced a soft smile at him. “Someone who loves you should give to you, not take from you,” he explained lifting a curled finger and catching one of her tears. “If it hurts you and they truly love you, they should stop, or admit that they’re not the one.”
Marielle forced a weak smile. “Why did that take me so long to understand?”
“You’ve always understood it. You’re just one of those people who gives someone that you love infinite chances. The problem is Austin, not you. He shouldn’t abuse this… or you.” A pause. “He should be trying to get better. Instead he’s getting worse. You know this.” It was true. Austin had started down a path that was becoming more demanding, more abusive. He’d hit her. He’d forced her to do things. The proof was plastered on the side of her pale face. “I’m going to go get you some ice, and some coffee? Cream and sugar?” She smiled and nodded.
He took a few minutes in the kitchen, trying to keep his thoughts on her vulnerability and need for comfort, not physical distraction. Seducing her would be too easy right now; and that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her to choose him. He’d always wanted her to choose him. He would have been lying if he’d said that he hadn’t been praying that she’d finally leave Austin and realize that he was the one she truly loved.
No time for thoughts like that- do this right, Vincent. He kept telling himself as he stirred creamer into her coffee. Do this right, and she’ll really and truly love you.
He brought her cup and ice pack, which he gently put to her face; all the while thinking that it was ironic that Austin could have easily prevented this, and cooled her aching skin on his own.
When her jacket fell down her shoulder a little, he was mortified by another bruise, and something else that made him sick to his stomach… a frostbite burn. He’d burned her skin with his own ice.
His eyes grew dark.
She yanked her coat up, putting her fingers to her mouth. She hadn’t realized that it’d slipped.
“I’m going to kill him,” he whispered feeling the guns in his body want to come out and put their crosshairs on Austin’s pretty face.
“Just leave him alone,” she sighed. “Let him ice his balls in peace,” she added with an eyeroll. There was a pause, as Vincent’s head fell between his shoulders, the cords in his arms becoming tight with rage and the need to strangle something. He wanted to make Austin suffer for what he’d done to her. He swallowed, nodded, and came to sit by her again. “You know about Friday night?” Vincent hung his head, shamefully for a moment. Austin had cheated on her again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it best not to get involved. It’s your marriage, it’s your life. It’s your personal affairs. Remember, you yourself told me to stay out of it,” he begged.
She groaned, her fingertips rubbing the bite mark on her neck and leaned back on the couch. “I already filed… I just hadn’t given them to him yet,” she chuckled again, flatly, “I threw the damn folder at him as he groaned on the living room floor.” She turned to Vincent sadly, “he’s going to come here, you know? He can’t let me go.”
Vincent exhaled, sharply and took her against him, cradling her head against his heart. “I won’t let him touch you,” he whispered, gently rocking her. “You’re safe here.”
There was silence for several moments, and a growing tension between them… an urge; one that both knew existed, but could never do anything about.
As he swallowed, she watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, and Vincent had literally heard her heartbeat speed up. “You know that these last few weeks… I’ve really only thought about one man,” she whispered, her fingertips trailing over his heart, and pressing against his chest where she could feel it pounding. “It’s made me realize that I never should have been with the other.”
He dared the next question with a gulp, but his voice came out steady, and strong. “Do you want me, Masin?”
“I’ve wanted you for a while, now,” she replied, shakily. She closed her eyes for a moment, “I’ve always wanted you, Vincent,” she breathed. “Moment one.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of that response, and steeping in what it was doing to him physically, and emotionally. But he stood away from her. “I won’t.”
She opened her eyes, shocked. “You won’t?”
“Not until the divorce is final,” he explained. “Not until then.”
She cocked her head at him, “Why?”
“Two reasons…” he gave her his profile. “The first is you. I want to do things right. The second is Austin. I want to respect him.”
She scoffed. “Austin doesn’t need your respect,” she said tightly.
Vincent shook his head. “I know, that’s why I’m going to give it to him,” he said turning to her.
She cocked a brow at him. “Are you trying to spite him?” Vincent smirked, but said nothing as he turned to her, giving her a sneaky expression. “Okay, keep your secrets,” she purred. “I know how you are.”
He smiled at her adoringly. “Thank God.”
“I get it,” she whispered, agreeing with him finally.
There was a pounding at the door. Marielle jerked back, clutching her jacket to her chest. It pained Vincent to see her that way. She was so afraid of the man on the other side.
“Vincent!” Austin shouted through the barrier. “Open this door! Give me my wife!”
Vincent lifted a hand, telling Marielle to stay back, and went to the door. “She’s left you, Austin, go home like the dog you are.”
“I swear if you touch her-”
“Touch her?” Vincent boomed, “You’ve already done plenty more than that! Or did you not see the bruises and marks you’ve left on her body?”
“She’s mine! Mine to do with as I please, you stay out of it!”
“Not anymore… Leave the property, or I’m calling the police.” There was an eerie silence for a moment as the glass next to the door suddenly frosted over, crackling. Both Vincent and Marielle exchanged looks, knowing what was coming. It shattered as Austin kicked it in; leaving a man-sized opening.
Marielle shrieked and shirked back.
Vincent put his hand up, telling her to stay; it was going to be okay. He did this as he pulled Headhunter from his arm, and aimed it at Austin’s left eye.
Austin had pulled a pistol and was already aiming at Vincent. Both stared at one another. “Give me my wife…” Austin growled through clenched teeth, and a curtain of black hair. “Now!”
“I’ll go with him,” Marielle breathed, terrified as her eyes darted from one man, to the other. “I can’t let him hurt you.”
“That’s right, you can’t,” Austin hissed, his eyes focused and trained on Vincent’s. Both men glowering, unmoving, hands and pistols steady. “Now, you come home.”
Vincent knew that Austin was threatening to take him apart to Marielle in their minds. “No! You’re not going back to this!” Vincent cried.
“I just want to talk,” Austin taunted, briefly opening his hands in mock surrender, but going swiftly back to pointing his barrel at Vincent’s face.
“You just want to lock her up and keep her forever, you snake,” Vincent growled. “You just want to control her every move and make her your puppet.”
“No, Vincent, that’s you,” Austin retorted coldly and he let that hang in the air for a moment. “Now come to me, Marielle,” Austin whispered, urging her with his other hand. “You come into my arms where you belong.”
“I won’t let you take her.” Vincent pulled back on the hammer.
Marielle dragged her fingers down her face in terror. “I don’t want the two of you to kill each other!” She shouted, rushing to Vincent. “Please. Please, don’t hurt him,” she begged. Vincent wasn’t sure who she was talking to, neither was Austin. As if she couldn’t help it, her eyes locked with Austin’s, and both were silent for a moment. It only took Vincent a second to realize what was going on.
“No, no, stop talking to him!” Vincent said, stepping between them.
Her and Vincet’s eyes met, “I’ll go talk to him,” she whispered.
Vincent shook his head. “Stop letting him inside your head,” he whispered to Marielle. “Don’t let him threaten me. I’m not scared of him.”
Austin sneered. “Aww, thought you were gonna finally get what you wanted, huh?” he hissed.
“I won’t let you go with this trash.” He’d only moved once since the glass break, and hadn’t moved a muscle otherwise; only to speak. “Marielle, tell him to leave.” She was silent. “Tell him to leave,” he whispered, pleading for her to realize her worth.
She took in a deep pull of air, deciding. “It’s over, Austin.”
Austin shook his head, “No.”
She stood straight and as tall as she could for her small body. “I am not going with you.”
“No, you are always going to be mine. It doesn’t matter what he has to say about it,” Austin hissed, looking Vincent up and down. “I get you back.”
She closed her eyes, tears streaming. “It’s over,” she whispered.
He was biting back tears. “I’m not done with you.”
“You’re not done with me? What are you not done with?” Marielle exploded, pulling her jacket back. “This?” She showed him her bruises. There had been more than one hiding under that jacket, and each was in varying stages of healing. Vincent, who’d only looked away to briefly see this, winced in internal torment. “Is this what you’re not done with?” Austin swallowed; shame flickering across his face for a moment. “I’m just a toy to you! You just want to force me inside of you to kill that anxiety that you can’t get rid of, you don’t love me!”
Icy tears seemed to sting Austin’s eyes. “I love you more than anything,” he begged, spacing the words I love you out like he was speaking to a small child; then he became one, “I need you.”
“No. You don’t. Or you’d change.” Everyone was silent.
“Look at her, Austin… Look at what you’ve done to your wife.” Vincent still hadn’t moved. He was strong as ever, a statue, gun trained on Austin’s head. “One move and I shoot,” he breathed. “Give me a reason,” he dared. “You are on my property; you’ve destroyed part of my home… you’re threatening me with a weapon. You’re lucky you’re not already dead.”
Austin shook a little, feeling the weight of everything sinking in.
Vincent’s other hand thrust into his pocket, and without looking, he told his cellphone to call Cory. “Marielle is with me. Austin is here, he’s threatening us… come and stand guard?”
“Absolutely.” Cory replied.
Then he did the same to Hazal. “Austin is here, he has a gun. Come stand guard with Cory?”
“You got it.”
He hung up, having never once taken his eyes off Austin’s handsome face. “Your move,” he dared.
There was an uncomfortable pause, and Austin’s hand trembled just a little. The thought of Hazal probably playing on his mind. Austin took in a deep pull of air, and put his pistol back into his holster at his hip. “This isn’t over.”
Vincent’s eyes had grown dangerously dark. “I don’t doubt it. But tonight? You leave.”
He had.
***
Thinking about the phone calls gave Vincent pause and he began to think about Cory as he watched the wing of the airplane dip a little into a fluffy white cloud and the last time that they had a conversation longer than a few sentences long.
***
Vincent’s back smacked into the pavement, the rest of him along with it. The moment that he realized that he was down was the same moment that he tried to crawl away like a broken crab. A well-placed blow to the right side of his face set his jaw on fire.
Cory leaned over him like Vincent was splayed out on an autopsy table.
Vincent was testing his jaw with his fingers wrapped around it.
The wind was whipping through the courtyard, and getting steadily worse as the giant vortex behind Vincent threatened to close.
“Who says I should kill him?” Cory stood tall, briefly taking his beautiful sister’s hand.
“Show of hands?” Finola moved passed Cory and went to stand with the others.
“No… there’s been enough blood. Blood only means more blood,” Liam said under his breath.
Vincent had looked to him thankfully, as blood trickled down his chin. He’d rescued Liam once; the start of a long mentoring relationship.
“Ice him,” Austin growled, through his tired pants; dark and demented from the back. His black make up was streaked from the perspiration that had run down his face as he’d chased Vincent to this point.
Cory turned to Sabine, “You?”
“I’m not getting involved,” she hissed, turning away. She briefly met eyes with Liam. If she didn’t see it, then it wasn’t happening. Liam felt differently. She glanced at John, he turned away with her, laconic as always.
“Don’t kill him now, brother. Let him think that he can run, first,” Finola purred, a malevolent smile crossing her round lips. She tossed her red curls.
“Cory, please don’t kill him… just banish him,” Liam pleaded.
“Oh, I’m gonna banish him. He doesn’t belong here, anymore. He has no home.” Cory scoffed, and he spit at the ground near Vincent’s feet.
Hazal stood behind Cory; Liam and the others weren’t far behind.
“I might not be able to go through there with you right now,” Cory said, gesturing with his eyes to the pink vortex, “But, once I figure this out, I’m never going to stop coming after you,” Cory hissed. Finola gave her brother a smile of approval. Vincent swallowed hard, and looked into Cory’s water-blue eyes; they were so round and innocent in appearance.
Vincent’s own brown eyes rimmed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t kno-“
“Oh, you didn’t know, so…” Cory’s face contorted first in sadness, then in rage, “I would have done anything for you… now? I’m going to make sure that you suffer. You took away my happiness for a chance at your own delusion.” Liam looked down, compassion furrowing his thick brows. He, at least, understood Vincent, even if he didn’t agree with him.
Hazal put his hand on Cory’s shoulder, “Maybe we can work this out-” he was saying.
Cory cut him off, “Work this out?” He shot daggers at Hazal. Then he turned back to Vincent, who was eyeing the teleportation vortex as it was slowly closing. “He killed my parents. Both of them…and our brother for his stupid fantasy.” Cory leaned back down to Vincent. “Let me be clear- you can go. I’m going to follow you and when you find her? I’ll make sure that you’re happy and think you’re safe before I rip everything away from you. Whoever you find out there,-” he gestured to the vortex with his head, “-won’t be who you lost here. And in fact, that might be enough pain for you. But no…” Cory’s grin spread wickedly across his long, handsome face. “I’ll be on your tail, and when you stop running? I’ll be there. Then I’m going to give her to him for a little while to play with. I’m going to watch your torment slowly twist inside of you, hopeless, helpless and raw, and I’m going to enjoy it.” A half smile that was almost innocent crossed his thin lips. Vincent swallowed hard, eyeing the vortex. It was almost closed. “Don’t think you’re going to get any help, you know that they’re all loyal to me after what you’ve done,” Cory whispered, gesturing over his left shoulder at the others with his gaze. “I promise I’ll take everything away from you,-” Cory pulled his pistol out, “-and I’m going to start with this,” he pointed it behind him, and fired a shot straight into Liam’s chest.
Liam caught it in shock, and looked down at the pool of red moving outward across his chest. Cory turned back to Vincent, a cool look on his face like he’d just pet a dog. “I have no heart for sympathizers.”
Liam fell to the ground, dying.
Sabine fell on him, trying to keep him alive in any way should could. None of the others were there. “John, call Kirra, or Wei Ling, someone!” He teleported, presumably to do so.
Vincent’s face contorted in agony as his and Liam’s eyes found one another… and then he saw Liam’s eyes go dark; his soul leaving his body; a stream of blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t hear Sabine’s cries over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ear, and the mind-numbing emotional pain that he found himself in at that moment.
Vincent bolted up and ran towards the vortex, jumping through at the last moment before it wicked away into nothing.
“Run, little rabbit… I’m coming for you.” Cory had seethed.
***
Marielle slid in next to him. “Hi.” She said, sweetly.
Vincent forced a smile at her. “Hello, love,” he murmured as she rested her head on his shoulder. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and swallowed, giving her a small kiss on her head; the pain in his chest opening like a sink hole.