Page 47 of Misted

That won’t fucking happen.

“You have to stop being so salty that Elle and Zoe chose us, police.” Scar’s body angles towards him even when she’s rooted beside me. “They’re living their lives, so how about you start living yours?”

“Sir!” A policeman lad runs towards us, face pale as if he just witnessed death for the first time in his life. “I went to get the suspect, but she’s bleeding and—”

I’m running in the direction he came from before he can finish his sentence. Liam curses and runs after me, but thankfully, for his life’s sake, he doesn’t stop me.

We arrive at the narrow detention cell. My heart freezes.

Blood.

Red pools underneath Mist’s motionless body on the floor. Her dishevelled hair camouflages her face. Dragging marks of blood smudges trail behind from where she must’ve crawled. Her handcuffed wrists splay in front of her.

A woman with a blonde bob darts out, limping. I don’t even pay her attention — for now. Scar and the lieutenant pounce in her direction almost at the same time.

My breathing deepens and sweat coats my brows. I crouch in front of Mist, my body as rigid and strained.

I reach a slow hand towards her. Horrible memories stab in my head about the day where I found her in a similar position. I couldn’t breathe then, and despite everything she has fucking done, air refuses to come into my lungs now.

“Don’t die,” I grit out. “Don’t you dare fucking die, Hellion. We have lots of debt to settle.”

My fingers thread in her hair and I push it away from her pale face. Those tiny freckles on her cheeks appear suffocated. Her bottom lip is swollen, her eyes are screwed shut, but her chest rises and falls steadily.

She’s fucking breathing.

A fresh breath resurrects in my lungs and I kick myself into action.

The source of the bleeding slash near her shoulder. I rip her jacket and wrap it tightly around her wound. Her limbs spasm and sweat coats her pasty-pale skin. Must be the fucking withdrawal.

I scoop her limp body in my arms. Mist is always strong and put together. She’s pristine, elegant, and fucking untouchable. But in my arms? She feels soft, light, and fragile. I want to smother her, own her, and become the fucking air she breathes.

She’s not my hellion anymore. She stopped being the girl who pestered me and talked non-stop until her voice became my addiction and my sweetest oblivion.

She’s something more now, but no matter what she is, I’ll always have her. Fully. Thoroughly.

Just like we agreed all those years ago.

Past,

“Is it wrong that I never want to leave you even for a second?” she asks against my neck, breathing me in.

We’re supposed to be training in the forest and hunting. I secured our quota and we’re snuggling in a mouldy cave that overlooks a waterfall. The sound of splashing water comes from the distance.

We’re older now. I’m maybe seventeen and she’s fifteen, but we were never kids or teenagers. Ever since we came into The Pit, we were thrust straight into adulthood.

I shake my head and stroke the skin in her wrist and feel so empowered, so fucking strong. It’s like I can take The Pit and everyone in it.

She smiles up at me, those hazel eyes sparking. “Take me away, Hawk. I would go anywhere with you.”

It’s time to do just that.