Page 33 of Requiem
He glances at me. “What?”
“Get back—” But I don’t get to finish, because Jude moves. His wrists jerk against the chain, and I realize too late that he didn’t just relax—he created slack while pretending to be calm. The chain gives just enough, and he surges off the bed in a violent motion, and I barely have time to register Jude snatching Micah, slamming him into the wall beside the bed. The impact echoes through the room, and Micah grunts as air leaves him. Jude slams his fist into Micah’s jaw, dropping him to his knees.
“Micah!” I shout, instinctively rushing forward.
But Jude doesn’t even look at him. He is already turning. Already choosing.
Me.
My stomach drops so hard that it feels like I’ve stepped off a cliff. And I freeze in my tracks.
“Jude—stop!” Micah winces as he tries to recover, but he stumbles, just enough that it costs him time.
Jude ignores him completely. And that’s when I realize that he’s holding a gun.
No, no, shit...
His eyes lock onto mine, and for a split second, I see him again. Not the volatile version of him in front of me, but the one I know underneath all of this. The one I keep trying to reach. But it fractures, and he flinches, tearing his gaze away from mine like it physically hurts him to look at me.
“Jude!” Micah snaps behind him, but it’s already happening.
Jude’s arm is shaking as he lifts it. Not at us.
Athimself.
The barrel presses against his temple, and for a moment, the entire room disappears except for that image—the man I love standing there, about to fucking kill himself.
My breath stops. “Don’t—” I whisper. “Jude, please, s—stop.”
His jaw tightens, his breathing breaking apart.
I’m scared. I’m scared.
Please don’t do this to me. Not after everything.
He closes his eyes, his face contorting in pure pain. His body is shaking from the withdrawals.
I want to cry. Tobeg. But I’m speechless. Micah’s eyes are wide, and his lips are parted in pure shock. I realize suddenly that Rafe had appeared beside me at some point, lethally still with his gun, watching every movement Jude makes.
But when his eyes open again, his arm drops, and the gun lowers. Like all strength drains out of him at once. The gun slips from his hand like he can’t hold the weight of it anymore. For a second, I think it’s over. But then he kicks it toward me. It slides across the floor straight at me. I stumble back as it stops near my feet, my heart slamming so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“Kill me,” he commands, voice flat, eyes dead. But he’s still not looking directly at me.
“No,” I reply quickly.
“Fucking.Kill me.Emma.” He’s staring at the floor, defeated.
“No,” I repeat. “I won’t do that. Iloveyou, Jude.”
“Shut the fuckup,”he groans, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck you. Fuck you for coming.” He shoots a glare at Micah. “Fuck you fornotkeeping her away. Fuck you for not justgiving up on me!”he yells, and I instinctively take a step back. He’s shaking even worse now, spiraling quickly.
Micah moves forward again, wiping blood from his mouth, but Jude doesn’t go after him. He just backs up against the bed, chains dragging, covered in sweat. And when he looks at us again, there’s only unbearable exhaustion.
“Leave,” he says. “I can’t think. I can’t—just leave me alone.”
Silence follows.
Micah doesn’t move. Rafe doesn’t speak.
