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Chapter 34
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2021-06-11 00:02:03There is a lump in my throat. Ryan is sitting next to me on the couch, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his legs. My heart is hurting. Hurting. How do I make it stop? I can't stop thinking about that infected wound on his arm!
Will I ever get to taste those lips after today?
How long will it take for him to turn into a zombie?
Will he die?
I know that we don't have much time, that we need to drive to my father's mansion to look for a cure. But part of me feels safe being here on the couch with Ryan. It's as if my brain thinks being near him will somehow prevent him from turning into a braindead zombie.
"Do you think we need to bring a lot of men with us?" Ryan is scratching his chin while resting his eyes on me. Watching him makes it harder to breathe—please don't leave me. Don't turn into a zombie. "I was hoping to be discreet about this mission. Bringing a lot of people might not be a good idea."
"Who you want to bring?" I try to so
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Stepping into the car feels wrong, like something terrible is about to happen. Yet I open the door to climb into the vehicle—Courtney is already sitting in her seat, glaring daggers at me. Her hair is flowing around her dolled-up face, and my eyes land on the cut right below her nose and upper lip. Did I cause that? The makeup is doing nothing to hide the scar. "Look at what you did to my beautiful face, Amelia," Courtney says. "This is your work." My gaze turns bitter. "I'm sorry, but if you hadn't tried to stop me from making my own decisions, then you would still be as pretty as a Barbie." Courtney looks ready to murder me. Her mouth opens and closes, and I lift my eyebrows. "What?" I ask. "I thought we were friends..." Courtney says. "Were we truly friends, or did you only hang out with me because Ryan told you to?" I can hear Zoya snort behind me, but she catches herself in the last second and climbs into the miniv
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When we arrive at my father's mansion, the gate is already opened, and there are no cars in the courtyard. And when we step out of the vehicle, the door to the mansion is open. It's slamming back and forth in the wind, making goosebumps prickle over my skin.Something is wrong.Giovani groans. "Where is everyone?""I don't know," Billy replies and walks towards the mansion. "There are blood marks on the door; maybe the zombies came here before us?""That means we need to work fast while the sun is up," Giovani says and nods at Zoya. "You and I will check upstairs, secure that floor; if we don't find anyone, we call the others in."Zoya nods a reply and then silently follows the bear-like man towards the luxurious mansion."Ugh, it's so cold... I will wait inside the car..." Courtney shudders and closes the car door. Hugo and Billy light up cigars, and I turn around to face Ryan."How are you feeling?" I dare to ask.Ryan peers
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"There is no end to these zombies!" While Giovani shoots down zombie after zombie, I watch my father observe us with a smile plastered to his face. Odd how he isn't helping his zombie companions fight and instead turns around to disappear into another room slowly. "If you want to save your cute little lover, chat with me in the other room, Amelia." My father speaks from the door frame. A smile is glittering over his thin lips. "Come on, follow me." Ryan falls onto his knees and glances up at me. He seems to be struggling not to turn into a zombie. "Don't follow him." I bite my lower lip. Ryan looks sickly pale, and I know I don't have much time to make my decision. I should follow my father, right? The others have joined us and are shooting zombies to the left and right—I could easily track my father into the other room. It might be my only chance to prevent Ryan's death. "Stay here," I order Ryan. "I will see what my father has to say."
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My father doesn't have to tell me twice. I saw Giovani snatch one of the vials and dash with a purpose to grab the other. Courtney is coughing, a true friend would probably check on her, but I have this feeling she will be alright—it's Ryan I need to worry about."Run to him, Amelia, before it's too late!"I shudder. My father is laughing like a maniac in the background until I hear the sound of a firing gun silencing him—Giovani must have shot him. I don't know. Neither do I have time to look behind me; finding Ryan is my top priority."Be okay, please be okay!" I chant to myself while moving.Stress makes my heart clench, worry makes my stomach lurch. I hope to God that I'm not too late.Running through the door, I enter the room with the shattered glass all over the floor, seeing Ryan sitting on the floor. His back is leaning against the wall, and his gaze immediately locks on me."Amelia!" He sounds weak, yet he smiles at me.
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One Year Later I replay the events that unfolded in my father's mansion every day, usually in the form of nightmares that haunt me at night. There are so many things that I could have done differently that day, ways of how I could have saved Ryan. It hurts remembering him. I can no longer visualize precisely how his face looked like, but I can remember how he made me feel, which usually ends up with me in tears. Most of the time, I cry alone inside my room and pretend that rush of hurt and pain never hit me like a wave when I walk out to the others, even if I know that everyone living inside this mansion is aware of my pain. "He is still alive. It's Ryan we are talking about," Zoya has told me plenty of times with her hand on my back. "Killing him is like trying to get to a cockroach—they always survive." I pray that she is right. For the past months, I've been searching for Ryan everywhere. I hunt for materials and food every day. I'm
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Gulping, I determinedly jump into my car even if it isn't standing in the same place I parked it. An old rock song starts playing from the CD inserted ages ago. It randomly plays now and then, and I celebrate inwardly when the car moves away from the forest clearing to It's My Life by Bon Jovi. It's a bumpy ride, and I sing along with the song while taking off my blouse. I'm practically shouting the lyrics, and trust me, I'm entirely tone-deaf, the person who makes babies cry. Who cares? No one is listening. "Do you always sing in the car?" A deep, familiar voice asks from behind my shoulders—startling me to the point it causes a knee-jerk reaction. I almost drive off the road, and the bobblehead of a dancing Stitch figure topple down on the floor, rolling to the back of the car. "Fuck!" I splutter, looking into the rearview mirror and getting the shock of my life—Ryan is sitting in the backseat. I freeze but somehow manage to
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Feeling a shiver run down my spine, I stare at Ryan—he is waiting for my reaction by the looks of it. Smirking behind the wheel with his charm bleeding into his features. "M-Mate?" I question. My father mentioned something about hybrids having mates, but I assumed their mates could only be hybrids themselves. Kind of like wolves only picking other wolves to mate with; then again, dogs exist for a reason. "Did I stutter?" Ryan asks. His cold tone got me crossing my arms across my chest until I notice the bastard is stifling laughter—he is fucking with me. "I'm just not sure what that means," I'm not lying. "Is it some magical bond between people?" "Hm, I guess you could call it that..." "Sounds like lots of crap and bullshit." I kick up my feet on the dashboard, not surprised at finding Ryan's new friends still chasing us. Ryan glances at my naked legs, and I grow self-conscious, reminded that I'm only wearing my bra, co
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Ryan I glance down at my mate through hooded eyes. Her newly discovered fear of me makes her appear smaller, and I hold my breath, not sure how to fix this building wall between us. I don't want her to be fearful of me—she is the last person on this planet that I would hurt. "Maybe I went too far..." I comment. She doesn't answer. Numbing pain is rumbling through me, and a raw scream of loneliness echoes through the walls of my mind. Without my memories, I don't understand where this darkness within me comes from. I think I used to be a psychopath in my past life, and my precious mate got to witness my corruption from the front row, see how I tore out the heart of my enemies with ease. There is no wonder she is afraid of me. Not knowing what else to do, I crouch down and take a seat under the blazing sun. Hybrids aren't sensitive to light, we share that feature with humans, but sweating isn't something I can control.
Last Updated : 2021-06-16
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Ryan My memory is foggy. The last thing I remember is that uncomfortable hospital bed with my five grandkids crying and holding my hands. Maeve was smiling sadly from a chair in the far back, and Wyatt leaned in to whisper: "I love you, dad." Did I die? I glance down at my hands, oddly aware that I'm not dreaming. My wrinkles are there, but my back pain is gone. How peculiar. What is this place? I've never been here before, yet I feel at ease. And the air is so fresh, like apples, a rainy day, and the ocean breeze combined. Breathing it in is like experiencing a rebirth, and I look ahead, wondering what I might find if I keep walking. Carefully, I walk forward, lifting my head to be blown away by the waterfalls crashing down and landing nowhere. "This place sure is beautiful... Like a dream..." The sky is darker than black, but the flowers on the floor, growing on the walls of the mountain in clutches—they are glowing in these
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Maeve Wyatt gently places me down on a bed. The innkeeper told us to get some rest before she attempts to heal my eyes. She used up most of her stamina, patching up my wounds and stopping the bleeding—it no longer feels like I'm leaking. "I shouldn't have brought you with me," Wyatt says as he crashes down behind me. "It's my fault that Bob and Garett died." His sheer weight got me tumbling into him, and his arm falls over me, holding me in place. It sounds like he is crying. It breaks my heart because I feel at ease with him, safe. He is like a giant teddy bear, but right now, he is vulnerable, and it tears me apart. I suck oxygen into my lungs, fully aware of my heartache. "Hey," I whisper at Wyatt, holding his shaking hand. "It's not your fault that they died—we didn't know Marcus had a bomb, and Bob made his own decision to save me." "I know, I'm just..." He is breathing into my neck with his curly locks brushing against me. It tickles. I
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WyattI approach the hybrid town through the forest with my skin bleeding and pants leaving my body. My exhaustion is rising, and my thoughts are scattered, running wild with worry as I clutch Maeve to my body. She was so close to dying. Shit. I will never let her go again, never look away!"Wyatt..." Maeve chuckles a little. Her head slumps to my shoulder, where she rests with her eyes closed. It's beyond me how she can appear so peaceful after what we have survived. "You can slow down. No one is chasing us, and we are both alive.""But you are-..." I stop talking, confused about the growing smile on Maeve's lips. Why does she seem so entertained? It's annoying not to know!"I'm what?" Her hand strokes over my chest, and she digs her cheek into my naked skin, inhaling my scent. My heart swells. I care about her so much, and she is injured because of me. "Well… I'm alive, Wyatt. I'm grateful for that, and if I'm blind, then so what? At least you ca
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WyattWhen I can see again, I crawl on all fours while my heart is aching with the knowledge Maeve is hurt. I'm a hybrid, and my skin is burning. One of my legs is hurting tremendously—nothing important. It will heal in mere minutes, but Maeve won't heal if she is injured.She is a human who might need a hospital—Shit, I shouldn't have taken her with me! I won't forgive myself if she is dead or injured! I'm already responsible for my mother's death, and now maybe I've also murdered Maeve.I'm such a monster!A fucking idiot!Maeve isn't a superhero—why the hell did I bring her here?!"Maeve!" I call her name through the smoke, making my way forward over rocks and debris from the mansion. White fragments are circling in the air like snow, and I cough as I crawl. My heart is beating a mile per minute. "Maeve?!""Fucking shit! That hurt!" Bob swears to the right of me, and I watch him stand up, entirely unscathed as if
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WyattMy heart is in pieces, shattered, as I walk into the building where Marcus is supposed to live. I should plan on how to kill him, how to make Marcus suffer as he deserves. Instead, my entire focus is on what I told Maeve yesterday.I told her the thought that has plagued my mind for as long as I can remember—that I can't have children. If I could decide, I would have plenty of children, at least three, but I don't want my lover to die.I wouldn't be able to live with the grief of losing Maeve in childbirth. My father raised me and handled his sadness, but I don't want my life to be a repeat of his tragic one. He had Giovani and me by his side, but his gaze would always turn sad whenever we would pass a lake as if he could imagine my mother being there.Halting in my tracks, I glance over my shoulder, finding Maeve tilting her head at me with a weak smile. She is beautiful, like a gemstone in a place with rocks. Her soul is so pure. I love how
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MaeveAs we drive through the woods, past ghostly trees, I hold on to Wyatt as if he is my lifeline. My guy tells us to turn around the car, but Marcus chasing our families and sending his men to kill us must end. I'm tired of running, and I don't want my children to fear him like I've done since I was a child.My mother, Zoya, taught me how to fight at the ripe age of four. It was when we started, and no child should be using guns that early.In the future, I want my children to enjoy their childhood. I want them to play with the other kids instead of teaching them how to use a flamethrower.I look out through the window, squeezing Wyatt's hand. "I hope us murdering Marcus will be easy. I have a bad feeling about visiting him, but we have to end this horror story.""I think it will be easy to get rid of the man," Wyatt replies. "Marcus is old, almost blind if you ask Bob. Victor was his strength, and he is dead."Bob meets my eyes in the re
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MaeveMy breasts feel heavy when Wyatt carries me outside of the car. I'm wrapped around him but not able to circle his large torso entirely. He is too broad, too damn powerful, and the awareness makes my clit throb with hot, pulsating need.He is this ridiculously tall mountain of a man, while I'm the lucky woman allowed to touch him. My heart is beating double-time in my chest. I can't wait to fuck him, or get fucked by him, whichever is fine. I was drawn in hours ago, tricked to get turned on, when Wyatt let me touch his enormous pecs much more prominent than my boobs."I'm so hard for you," Wyatt speaks huskily; even his voice sounds like sexual frustration. His breath is warm, evaporating in the frozen air. "I wish you could touch me."Pure ecstasy hits me when I hear his deep, raw voice filled with desire. I can't confirm if his words are valid, but I'm dying to find out. I'm quivering with anticipation as Wyatt explores the surface of my clothes.
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WyattHandshakes are special because some people only touch your skin, while others affect your soul.Maeve is sitting next to me in the middle seat of the car. I'm glancing out through the window, pretending Maeve's hand on my thigh doesn't reach deeper than the surface of my jeans. The truth is that she is under my skin, and I can't remove her from there.My eyes briefly glance down at Maeve. She is sleeping peacefully, and with a heavy sigh, I brush her hair with my hand."You're a pain in the ass..." A soft smile touches my face, and with warmth flooding my senses, I hug her to my chest. "But I wouldn't want you ever to change."Maeve snores in response, and I chuckle.When I was younger, I was always smiling and trying to make people like me. I feared being lonely, which surprise-surprise made everyone think I was annoying. Little Wyatt was too horny for attention, and I was bullied for it.As a child, I was small and motherless.
