Page 102 of Misted

Mist

Kiss me like it’s our first and last all at the same time.

I bargeinto the cosy little house, feeling its walls closing in on me.

My feet are sore, my eyes are swollen from so much crying and my body never stopped shaking – and it’s not because of Omega.

I don’t know how I got here in the first place. One moment I was reading Scar’s text and the next, I was speeding to the nearest airport and flying to Marseille.

All the way here, I tried to contact Scar or Crow. Each time I failed, the black hole in my chest kept expanding, consuming every thought and chaining me in a full panic mode.

The only reason I’m not falling apart right now is because I refuse to even consider that he's hurt.

A black halo roams around my head as I sprint into the house, panting. My hair and clothes are a mess. I’m a mess.

I held my imminent break down all the way here, but now, the mere brush of air on my skin is like a thick fog.

“Scar!” I shout. “Crow!”

“Whoa.” Scar’s bored voice sounds from behind me. “Less than two hours. Impressive.”

I whirl around and snatch my knife from my sheath underneath the dress. The next second, I’m headlocking Scar and digging the knife into her throat. “Where the fuck is he? Don’t play games with me or I’ll slice your throat open.”

She rolls her eyes even when a trickle of blood falls down her neck and onto the collar of her pastel pink T-shirt.

Footsteps sound upstairs, I lock Scar down and reach for my gun. I hold my knife at Scar’s throat and point my gun at… Crow.

He places both hands in his trousers’ pocket. “You lose, psycho.”

Scar huffs. “Whatever.”

Both of them are completely unfazed about the weapons – or that I’m able to end their lives in a second.

“Hawk is alive, redhead.” Crow hooks his thumb behind him. “We had to sedate him to stop him from running back to England, though.”

My feet falter, and I nearly fall. My steel clutch loosens from around Scar and she pushes me away. My back hits the wall hard, but I don’t care.

Hawk is alive.

I can breathe again.

I narrow my eyes on Scar who’s studying her French-manicured nails. “But you said he had a fever.”

Eloise joins Crow and they both descend the stairs. She smiles sheepishly at me. “It was partially my idea. I’m sorry, but,” she jabs Crow in his side and he groans. “This mule and Scar were sure you revel in hurting Hawk, so I suggested this to prove them wrong.”

I’m running up the stairs without saying a word. What if they’re lying? What if Hawk is already dead but they’re playing a sick trick on me?

The moment I swing the door open, I freeze. His large body dwarfs the bed, and his chest rises and falls steadily. My feet fail me, and I crouch, my back leaning against the doorframe.

Tears rim my eyes, and I swallow a scream down.

He’s alive.

Hawk is alive.

“I still don’t trust you.” Scar’s deadpan voice comes from beside me.

I straighten up and point the knife I’m still holding at her. “Get out.”