In Death I Live by Lindsay Becs
DOMONIC
Just like Iknew he would, Swan shows up at the compound only an hour after the ceremony, looking for blood. Zora’s to be exact.
“Where the fuck is the kid?” Swan roars from the entry where the boys and myself stopped him from going any farther. Zora is just past where we are but is staying out of sight for the time being. Or, at least, that’s supposed to be the plan. We’ll see how well she listens this time.
“He’s not here, so you can leave and go fuck yourself on your way out,” I tell him with a lift of my chin.
He might be my father and the leader of The Organization, but I have exactly zero respect for the asshole motherfucker. Thanks for donating your sperm; you can show yourself out of my life now.
There were days after I was separated from Slater and brought here when I wished more than anything that I hadn’t been born. To be able to live my life the way I wanted to, not by some fucked-up code or set of rules. I would have switched places with my brother in a heartbeat if I could.
“What did you just say to me?” he says slowly, seething and simmering, ready to explode.
Stepping closer to him, I accentuate each word. “Go. Fuck. Yourself. Dad.” I add the last word for effect, knowing it’ll piss him off more. I might be playing with fire and dangling my life on a limb, but I don’t care. I’m tired of doing his bidding and being his whipping post.
“You are playing a very dangerous game of roulette, boy.”
Pulling out my gun, I dump the bullets in my palm, never taking my eyes off of his. I load only one of the bullets back in, spin and cock it, ready to fire. Turning the gun around, handle to him, I lift a brow. “Go for it.”
He takes it, gripping it tightly. He runs his tongue over the inside of his lip as he watches me, waiting for me to falter, to show fear. I don’t.
My father lifts it, muzzle to my forehead, and stares me in the same dark eyes as his, then pulls the fucking trigger.
I stare the devil in the eyes as I wait for my fate.
Waiting to see if life or death will greet me on the other side.
The sound of the gun firing rings in my ears, but I keep my eyes focused on the one person I hate most in this life and the next, knowing I’ll see him in hell soon enough.
GREYSON
Fuck this shit.
I’m not letting Dom fight this battle by himself any longer. He might not think he needs someone by his side to help him, but he does. More than he’ll ever admit.
Pulling my 9mm from the back of my jeans, I shoot Swan in the shoulder, the one holding my best friend’s gun to his head.
It feels like slow motion, the bullet whizzing by Dom, grazing his ear as it hits, making Swan drop Dom’s gun but not before he fires it.
When sparks fly and glass rains down over all of us, I know that Dom’s stupid game would have cost him his life. And although he was willing to lose it, I wasn’t.
Zora’s scream pulls me from the haze I’m in as I come back to reality.
River is on top of Swan, finger shoved deep into the bullet hole in his shoulder, keeping him down.
Cruz is holding Zora, half comforting her and half keeping her away from Swan and the scene unfolding in front of us.
Dom jumps and lands on his old man’s leg, making a grotesque crunching sound as Swan yells in pain. Then he’s in his face, hand on his throat, choking the life out of him. Dom’s face is tense and pulled tight in a mixture of disgust and rage.
“You will never touch or see that little boy. You will never be able to destroy his life like you have mine and these boys here with me. You are done,” he spits. “Done ruining lives and taking what doesn’t belong to you. Done with letting your evil vapor poison the air around you and those you come in contact with. Done.”
Swan struggles, kicking and fighting, scratching at Dom’s hands around his throat, reaching for his face, but it’s not enough. That mixed with the bullet wound that River is still breeching, torturing, is making it harder for him to fight.
His face turns from red to purple, eyes bloodshot and bulging as the life is siphoned from him, suffocated. When the fight goes out of him and he falls limp on the ground, Dom stays on his knees over him. A deep guttural scream erupts from him, filling the entry and echoing off the walls as all of his pain and anger are let go. Free for the first time.
Falling back, he sits on the floor, dropping his head in his hands, and his shoulders begin to shake. I hurry to him, hand on his back to support him now when he needs it more than ever before.
“He’s gone,” I whisper, hugging his head to my chest. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” Tears sting my own eyes as he cries; hurt and sorrow and relief mixed together flow from him. It’s heartbreaking and healing to watch.
Locking eyes with River, I give him a look, telling him to get this fucking body out of the house.
He snaps a picture for proof of death, and then he and Cruz jump into action, getting the body out. A couple of the guards come to help.
Once they’re all gone, Zora slowly finds her way to us, lowering to the floor where I’m still holding Dom. She picks his face up, making him look at her mirrored tear-stained face. “I love you,” she tells him, affirming her love for him despite what just unfolded. She kisses him, soft at first, and then they deepen it. Him drinking from her, gaining the strength he needs at this moment.
She takes my hand in hers, letting me know she’s not forgotten I’m here and what I did. But we both know that Dom needs our focus and love more right now. And I think I fall in love with her a little bit more watching her love my best friend.
* * *
Zoraand I managed to get Dom up to his room, showered and in bed. That’s where I left the two of them before going in search of Cruz and River. They’re huddled in the kitchen, each drinking a beer, when I walk in.
“Everything taken care of?” I ask, pulling out a drink for myself.
If there’s ever been a day with such a drastic mix of emotions, today was it. Between Zo asking us to love her like she loves us, the marking ceremony and then watching Dom kill Swan literally with his bare hands, it’s been a fucked-up, crazy day. We all deserve to get a little shitfaced.
“Yeah,” River answers. “Gage and a few others took the body to the morgue. We didn’t want to put the body in the incinerator until Dom gave the order that he was good.”
Picking at the label on my bottle, I nod. “Probably smart. Once the shock wears off, he’ll want to watch the fucker burn.”
“That’s what I thought too,” River agrees.
“Did you call the others yet?” I ask, talking about our fathers, the other Swans. We’ve all been in contact with them, getting them on our side of things. Now, we just have to hope that they weren’t just playing us like they have in the past.
River shakes his head. “I sent mine a text, but he’s probably still sleeping,” Cruz says. “Time difference and all that.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I still feel nervous tension. “Yeah, I’m kind of scared to call mine,” I scoff a laugh, then look back to River. “You good after everything?”
He looks at Cruz, who steps closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. River rests his head on Cruz’s shoulder. “I think so. That was some intense, fucked-up shit that went down, for sure, but we all knew it had to happen.”
“I could have killed Dom myself for pulling that shit,” I tell them.
“You saved his stupid ass, that’s for sure,” Cruz adds, his hand in River’s hair, comforting him, and I wish Zora were here to do that for me too.
“Someone had to.” I shrug, brushing it off.
I might have shot at Swan, stopping him from killing Dom, but that doesn’t negate the fact that then I froze and did shit while he flipped and strangled his dad. I’m no hero here.
Throwing my half-empty beer bottle into the sink from across the kitchen, it shatters. “I’m going to shower. Let me know if either of you hears from your fathers.”
Once in the shower, hands on the wall to brace myself, I let the hot water beat on my back. It slides over my shoulders and stings the still fresh cuts on my chest that Zora put there earlier. I welcome the pain, needing it to ground me and remind me I’m still here.
Pain. Blood. They mean life is there. Reassurance that death hasn’t taken over yet. To get the high that comes from it. The control over life.
Three days before my fifth birthday, my father killed my mother while I hid under the bed. He was done with her before I’d even left for the compound. He was done with me too. He already had another wife and family he wanted more than us.
He slit her throat and watched while she bled out, all the life draining from her. He left me there with my dead mother’s body, blood pooled all around her, for three days before he came back for me.
In those three days, I didn’t leave her side for more than to go to the bathroom. Instead, I drew pictures and played in the blood that coated the floor in various stages of drying. There, I started my love affair with the life source that runs through our bodies.
The sight, the taste, the act of seeing it bead and drip from the skin turns me on, causing a high. I need it to feel alive. To know that there’s still life in me and the person I love most in this life.
Like she can hear my need through the beating of my heart, I hear Zora outside my shower. How can this girl understand all of us so fucking perfectly? Know what I need for comfort right now when I’m struggling to keep it together after my massive fuck-up today?
I need her. I want her. Will she still want me in my broken, fucked-up state?