Page 4 of Shades of Loyalty
What an asshole. Is he blind? A psycho? Someone’s dying right in front of him, and he refuses to call for help?
I bite back a snarky retort, my hands trembling as I press harder against the wound.
The injured man’s eyes flutter open. His breathing is shallow and uneven. He looks at me and smiles weakly.
“Thank you for trying,” he whispers. “But don’t bother. I deserve this. I should’ve reacted faster.”
“Nobody deserves this,” I say firmly, though I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
Who are these people? And what the hell was I thinking, getting involved?
His pulse weakens beneath my fingers. Panic claws at my chest. I’ve never lost someone like this—not without backup, not without proper tools. Not as helpless as I feel right now.
“Stay with me, please,” I urge, but his eyes begin to close. His breathing slows… shallow gasps fading into silence.
No. Fuck no, please. Not like this.
I check again—desperately—but there’s nothing. No pulse. No breath.
He’s dead.
And I? I can’t do anything. Change anything. It happened, and that’s that… That’s how the universe works.
My hands tremble as I pull back, his blood soaking through the scarf. “He’s gone,” I whisper.
The blonde one nods, his expression unreadable. The dark-haired man, however, begins to move, casually stepping back like this doesn’t mean anything. No pause. No sign of grief. Like he doesn’t care that his friend just died.
The alley falls silent again, none of our voices filling it. The distant hum of the city feels like it’s miles away.
I sit back on my heels, staring at the lifeless body in front of me. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I’ve worked in trauma units. I’ve handled emergencies. But this? This is different.
I gently close the man’s eyes, my hands still trembling. “I’m sorry,” I murmur—more to myself than to him.
After only a few seconds, I realize how stupid this decision was. And how truly fucked up this situation is.
I push myself to stand, aware of the weight of their stares.
My voice falters. What am I supposed to say?Dothey expect me to say anything?
The dark-haired man steps forward, his presence overwhelming. “You’re coming with us,” he says, his tone making it clear it’s not a request.
“What? No, I—” But it’s pointless.
“You’ve seen too much. I’m sorry, but you can’t leave. Not under these circumstances.”
I glance down at the bloodstained scarf. My stomach churns. I don’t want to go with them. I can’t. But something in his voice tells me arguing is pointless.
And the way he looked at me when he said it? It terrified me. But—God help me—there was something else in that look. Something that sent a jolt through my chest.
Something that, maybe, showed that this cold-hearted man cared for his friend after all.
Before I can protest further, he steps closer. His hand brushes my arm, steadying me. His touch is… gentle. “It’s for your safety,” he coos softly. His voice shouldn’t be that soft. Not after everything I’ve just witnessed.
And yet… I don’t question it. I don’t even want to think about it, really.Safety.Yeah, right. Somehow, I doubt that’s what this is really about.
As they help me to my feet, the truth settles like lead in my chest. I tried to help. I did everything I could.
