64
CLAIRE
Franklin is dead.
And I killed him.
I ended him, and honestly, the rush that consumes me is euphoric.
But it’s also short-lived, considering the dozens of dead bodies surrounding us, and the dying man in Johnny’s lap.
His father. Luciano Bane. Bleeding out and taking me uncomfortably back to the night of my birthday when Franklin ordered someone to shoot Johnny. I thought I had lost him then. The wound wouldn’t stop oozing. The light in his eyes flickering until they closed for what I thought was the last time. If Johnny remotely feels anything like I did that night, I hate that for him.
I hate that he has to continue suffering at the hands of Franklin, even after I emptied countless rounds into his body.
It was probably excessive, but I had to be sure. Sure that Franklin had no chance of coming back from the dead and ruining Johnny’s life any more than he already has.
I drop to my knees next to Johnny, helping him hold the weight of Luciano.
Miller drags his phone out of his pocket and pushes a few buttons, quickly putting it to his ear. “Immediate code eleven. I repeat, code eleven. Location incoming. We need all crews available.” He scans the devastating contents of the building. “Allavailable crews.” Miller disconnects the call and clicks the screen again. He kneels beside us and takes Luciano’s hand in his, flipping it over and pressing his fingers to Luciano’s wrist.
Luciano can’t be dead. I won’t permit my mind to wander in that direction. He has to be okay. For Johnny’s sake. If I force my thoughts on him making it out of this alive, it will come true, right? Isn’t that how manifestation works?
When I pictured Johnny’s future earlier, Luciano was a part of it. He played an active role. Fluttering in and out, sharing laughs and successes and making up for the lost time. A positive role model in this otherwise negative world. A sliver of good coming from this terrible situation.
But as the blood continues to flow out and onto the ground, I worry that my premonition was a false hope. A reality that may never come to fruition. Sealing Johnny’s fate to be alone in this world, aside from me.
Except now he has Josey—a cousin he never knew existed. The two worked side by side in Franklin’s organization and had no idea they were related.
And there’s Bram—Johnny’s found father. Now that Franklin is gone, we can return to see him once the dust settles.
Maybe Johnny can become Johnny again, just fade back into the person he really is, and put all the secrecy behind him. Behind us. We can go on and live our lives like the age-appropriate people we are.
Who am I kidding, though? This shit has changed us. And I’d be lying if I said we’d ever return to the people we were before this. I wouldn’t want to, anyway. A darkness has taken hold and I embrace it for what it is.
Johnny’s gaze trails over to mine, fear seeping out of him.
Our connection runs deep between us, giving us the ability to tune in directly to each other. It’s one of the reasons we work so well—we can anticipate one another’s needs.
This is something I’m not sure how to fix. I’m not a doctor. The only things I can handle are the occasional bumps and bruises Johnny stumbles home with, not a gunshot wound to the chest. I couldn’t even help him when he was the one bleeding out in my arms.
Commotion draws my attention from the entryway. Countless people run inside the building, jogging in various directions. A trio approaches us and drags Luciano from Johnny. Two of them lift him onto a stretcher and the other cuts through Luciano’s clothes.
I grab Johnny and turn him away from the sight of his father, near death.
The second Johnny’s attention is away from him, he fully focuses on me. His gaze scans my frame, looking for any kind of injury.
I almost wish there was one so it would distract his mind from the more pressing situation—his dying father.
Kind of like how all of this has stolen my direct attention from freaking out about my best friend’s slit throat.
I shove that thought away. I refuse to break down when Johnny needs me most.
Once Johnny realizes I’m completely free of any major damage, he reaches forward and pulls me to his chest. “Claire,” he breathes. “Christ, you are brave.” He says the words with equal parts admiration and annoyance. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head against him and wrap my arms around his torso. “No.”
Truthfully, I’m absolutely unscathed, aside from my prior wounds. The fact that Johnny and I are both alive, and Franklin is dead, feels like a miracle.