Page 113 of Wounded Soul
The once clear glass was now covered in red: smeared and splattered over the walls, like aftermath of a vicious murder. The floor hadn’t faired much better, and no sooner had Ian thought it, Jesse’s foot slipped in a pool of blood. He only faltered for a second, but it was enough for Peter to take advantage. He darted forward, burying his knife to the hilt in Jesse’s chest.
“No!” Ian shot up out of his seat, but Raph yanked him back down, signalling to the guards that everything was okay. Ian saw Lys off the side, her hands covering her face, eyes wide, and he knew it was bad.
“Stay down,” Raph hissed, clamping a hand on Ian’s thigh, but Ian barely registered it.
Jesse fell backwards, clutching at the knife and landing with a sickening thud on the mat. Peter followed, straddling Jesse and grabbing his hand as he tried to pull out the knife.
Wrapping his fingers around Jesse’s, he pushed it in further, and Jesse cried out.
“I didn’t want this,” Peter whispered. “You were supposed to be mine. We were supposed to be together.” He sounded broken, lost. “Damn you, Jesse.” He closed his eyes as he twisted the knife, and only Raph’s hand gripping Ian’s thigh kept him from running over there.
With his head bowed, Peter didn’t see the twitch of Jesse’s fingers. Didn’t see them wrap around the dagger next to him on the floor.
But Ian did.
As Peter sat upright, he pulled it out of Jesse’s chest, and placed it gently against his throat. Ian froze, his while body rigid as he sat there helpless to do anything but watch.
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered.
“Me too.” Jesse’s hand whipped up, slicing the dagger across Peter’s throat. Ian couldn’t see Peter’s face, but he imagined the look of shock there. He slumped to the side, blood pouring from the gash in his neck, covering his fingers as he clutched at it.
The room was deathly silent for a too-long moment before excited murmurs began to circulate.
Raph’s fingers dug painfully into Ian’s thigh, but he welcomed it, needing something to keep grounded. “Are they...?” He didn’t want to say the words, but Peter lay face down on the mat, a steady pool of blood spreading out beneath him, and Jesse wasn’t moving either. Ian couldn’t see Jesse’s throat from where he sat, and the thought that Peter might have done the same to Jesse gripped him like a vice around his heart. “Raph?”
Raph stood, all eyes in the room turning towards him. “Lower the barriers.”
Watts walked over to the glass, peering in. When neither Jesse nor Peter moved, he gave the signal and the glass barriers lowered back into the floor.
Lys rushed over to Jesse, and Ian had to force himself not to join her.
“I’m going to come to them,” Raph said, addressing Watts. “And I’m bringing Ian and Liam with me.” He waited for Watts to give the okay, then made his way down the steps, Ian and Liam following along with a heavy contingent of VLCD.
Ian didn’t care how many guards had their guns on them, he just wanted to get to Jesse. Needed to see...
Watts motioned for the guards to hang back as they reached the centre of the mat.
“Wait here.” Raph gave him a look that brooked no argument, and as much as it killed him to do it, Ian obeyed. Liam wrapped an arm around his shoulders, either for comfort or as an extra precaution, Ian didn’t know and didn’t much care.
Neither Jesse nor Peter had moved once.
Raph reached Lys and she looked up, giving him a quick shake of her head.
Dread pooled in Ian’s belly.
No. No. No.
He couldn’t be dead.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
He watched as Raph carefully rolled Peter onto his back.
So much blood.
The scent hit Ian full on, and he leaned into Liam, grateful when his grip on him tightened. Lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling.
Peter was dead.
