Page 152 of Nemesis

Antonio grunts. He’s pale, frazzled. More scared than I’ve ever seen him. Unflappable Antonio. He stepped in and protected me when I was fresh out of Terror, vulnerable and flayed open.

“I’m going to give you both a moment to talk over this opportunity. The chance for one of you to walk out of here alive.” He pauses. “Well, perhaps not walk… but you’ll be alive. Isn’t that kind?”

“Like how Reese is alive?” My voice does not sound like the sure, confident woman I pretend to be on a regular basis. It sounds more broken than anything.

Gabriel brightens. “What a good idea, Artemis. A trade. One of you sticks a knife in your heart, and the other gets a little shot. It’s like taking a ride. Around and around you’ll go. When it stops, nobody knows.”

He takes the knife, dripping my blood across the stage, and grabs his kit. He prepares a syringe, recaps it, and brings it back. He sets it between us, along with the knife, and winks at me.

“We’ll shoot anyone who comes out,” he warns, his expression serious for a split second. “And if you haven’t decided when I return, we’ll shoot you both.” A broad grin overtakes his face, his whole body language changing and tone lightening. “Good luck!”

He leaves, taking his henchman with him.

The woman in the corner is silent—dead, maybe. She was going to die. There’s a pool of blood under her. Antonio shifts, and I tear my gaze away from the woman. I focus on him.

“How’d they get you here?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. There’s at least twenty feet between us. Ten to the knife and syringe. A good lunge wouldn’t do it. My head spins. I just need to get to the knife before him.

“He said he had you,” Antonio says quietly. “I was already here. The power went out, and suddenly he was in my office, in the dark, telling me all the things he was going to do to you if I didn’t come with him.”

“Please. I know what you’re thinking?—”

“You don’t. I should’ve done better by him, Artemis. This is more my fault than yours.”

He says I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know he’s going to go for the knife. He’s unharmed, everything in place. Gabriel didn’t have to rough him up to get him here—Antonio came because of me.

He walked into this place, this familiar place, with the knowledge that he might not walk out.

We’re not delusional. We both know that Terror still lives in the heart of this building. And we’ve been desperate to try to hide it, to cover it up with paint and gilded edges, but it doesn’t work like that.

"Artemis.” He’s steady. So fucking steady.

I blink, and he’s got both the knife and syringe in his hand.

Another blink, and he’s kneeling in front of me. I’m still on my knees. In all this time, I haven’t managed to move. Hadn’t tried. My limbs are heavy, the blood seeping between my fingers. I’ve got no fight left, except for the desire for Antonio to walk out of here alive.

“I don’t regret saving them,” he says to me. “And I do not regret saving you. Because you saved me, too.”

My eyes burn. He’s gripping both so tightly, his knuckles white and hands trembling.

“Don’t do it,” I beg him. I latch on to his arm, staining his jacket with blood. “I need you.”

He rolls up my sleeve and slides the needle into my arm. A sob bursts out of me, and I fall forward. He catches me, putting my forehead on his shoulder, as his thumb depresses the plunger. He waits a moment, then shifts me onto my side. All the way down, until my head touches the floor.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I don’t want you to see this.”

I can’t.

The drug is already latching on, making it harder to think. I try to reach for him, and my hand barely trembles along the floor.

He turns the knife around, the point aimed at his chest. Under the ribs, angled high.

No, no, no.

I can’t lose him.

I can’t look away.

The drug is dragging me down into ice water. Everything is cold, nothing else matters. I lose my body in the process. Just a floating consciousness trying to figure out how to fix this, how to stop him from killing himself.

He grits his teeth, hands shaking, and glances around. He says something in Italian under his breath. Maybe a plea or a prayer, but either way, there’s no one riding in to save us.

“I love you, Artemis. See you on the other side.”

I try to scream, but my vocal cords aren’t responding. Nothing is.

With that, he drives the knife into his chest.

TO BE CONTINUED…