“Found your voice, did ya, Vicious? Your mother had a stroke.” He tore me off the ground, using two hands to tug me toward the balcony’s edge. “It was tragic. Just like Foster’s death. Wasn’t that tragic, Sebastian? A kid so young, an aspiring photographer. So many things he’d could’ve been, if only he’d minded his fucking business.”
Dizziness moved through me like an unexpected wave. I reached out for purchase, fingers stretching and aching for a lifeline.
They came up empty.
I started sagging to the ground, but he forced me up by the tops of my ears. Crying out in pain, my hands lashed out, punching and clawing and slapping whatever flesh they touched.
He laughed, delighted, as though my fury fueled something in him.
“You…” My tongue felt heavy and dry, searching for words amongst the blood it tasted. “You… tried to frame me.”
“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Sebastian. You were barely a person of interest.”
I swung.
My knuckles clipped him in the jaw, hard enough that his head throttled backward before righting itself again. Blood lined his teeth, pooling in his bottom lip in a way that only made him look more menacing.
Oomph.
Hands now anchored to my shoulders, he slammed his knee into my gut. I folded forward, eyes rolling. My mouth opened in a cry, and I fought to keep from vomiting.
“I wonder who will be a person of interest in your death. Maybe you were stricken with grief. Maybe you left your father a note, saying you just couldn’t take it anymore.”
He shoved me toward the railing, and I wrapped my hands around it just in time for him to place one hand on the back of my head andpush.My feet came off the ground, and I dug my fingertips so hard into that railing, my blood stained the concrete.
“I wonder if your body will make the same sound Foster’s did. I wonder if you’ll bleed out slowly, or all at once.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, chest racing and feet flailing.
I don’t want to die…
My lips parted, and I screamed for all I was worth. Wind got caught in my shredded throat. I couldn’t place the familiarTick, Tock,and I thought, maybe, that clock was finally listening tome.
I slumped to the cold ground, hands on the pavement. My chest burned as I panted, saliva dripping from my lips in a long, thin line. Eyes glassy, I lifted my chin.
Was I… dead?
No.
Confusion swept me, and I placed my palms on my cheeks, feeling their rise and fall as I blew uneven breaths. My blurred gaze caught Athur’s feet, dangling several feet off the ground. It followed his struggling body to the terror on his face and the hands locked around his throat.
Daddy bird…
The phoenix I loved so much was brighter than it ever was before, flexing as Roman tightened his grip. The tip of his nose was mere inches from my father’s, his breath coasting across his now stricken cheeks. Nostrils flaring, Daddy’s pupils dilated, and I saw his jaw tick once before he spoke.
“You will never touch him again.”
And then… he tossed him.
My father grasped at the air as he fell, lips parted and eyes forever in shock. Wind raced past him… except he wasn’t like me and my daddy.
He had no wings.
The crack his body made as it hit the pavement was a sound I’d remember forever… but it wouldn't haunt my nightmares.
No.
Thatwas the sound of my dreams.