I move toward him, inch by inch, my boots skimming the blood that coats the concrete. My clothes cling to my skin, heavy and wet, but I barely register them. My focus narrows to one thing. One monster. One final nightmare standing between freedom.
Dean’s hand tightens in Kimber’s hair, wrenching her head back as she cries out. The sound tears through whatever patience I had left. I feel my pulse slam into overdrive, and every instinct inside me demands I rip him off her with my bare hands. I can feel the guys behind me, shouting, warning, begging.
“Berk—don’t!”
“Wait!”
“Stop!”
Too late. I lunge.
Dean startles, jerking his gun toward me, and for a split second I see the barrel flash. The burn sears up my left arm as a bullet grazes through flesh, but the pain barely registers because I slam into him with everything I have, knocking us both to the floor. Kimber is screaming. Rowan is pleading. Ronan is cursing. Emerson is shouting my name like a lifeline.
In the chaos, Emerson tears Kimber’s chair back so hard it screeches across the concrete. He’s frantic, ripping the restraints apart, shoving her behind him as though he can shield her from the entire world. But no one can come closer, not yet,because Dean is still firing wildly, the muzzle snapping flashes across the room.
I pin his shooting arm down and drive my knife into his stomach.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
His gun kicks with each thrust, but he’s losing control fast. My blade sinks in, hot and deep, and he grunts wetly as blood bubbles up between his teeth. I stab again and again until the gun fires one more time and a blast of white-hot agony tears through my abdomen.
Everything freezes.
Sound caves in, leaving only a hollow hum. Dean and I are tangled on the floor, staring at each other, our breaths mixing with dust and gunpowder. His eyes are glassy—packed with hate and a glint of grim delight. Blood seeps from the corners of his mouth.
He coughs, wheezing out, “Got you.”
I laugh—actually laugh. The sound tears out of me, rattling my whole body as blood spills from the corner of my mouth, trailing in warm red lines down my chin.
I lean close, my words brushing his cheek. “Here’s a secret… I never planned to survive.”
His eyes snap open, confusion sliding into fear.
And with the last bit of strength in my arm, I slam my blade up under his chin, punching through soft tissue and bone until the hilt meets skin. His whole body jerks once. Twice.
“Got you,” I whisper back.
His pupils flare wide.
And Dean Blackthorne finally fucking dies.
The world rushes back in a violent crash. Rowan screams my name. Emerson is pulling Kimber away from the wall whereshe flinched at every gunshot. Ronan drops to his knees beside me, hands immediately pressing into my abdomen. Blood floods between his fingers, hot and slick. Rowan is already dialing, fumbling with shaking hands until Emerson snaps the phone from him, barking at the dispatcher for help.
Everything around me is chaos. But inside me, a strange stillness blooms. A soft, quiet peace.
It’s over.
They’re dead.
Every monster, ghost, and nightmare that haunted my childhood.
Dead.
Ronan is shaking, yelling at me to stay awake, to look at him. Rowan’s face hovers above mine, tear tracks carving into his cheeks, fury and terror warring in his eyes. Emerson is behind him, holding Kimber close, but his voice is cracking as he begs me to breathe.