Reign of Wrath (Dirty Broken Savages #3)
Eva Ashwood
1
River
There’s a weird pressure around my head.
It’s like being underwater, everything muffled and muted. Numb.
I’m aware of vague sounds around me, penetrating my ears but then bouncing right back off. Screams in the distance, sirens. Raised voices and flashing lights.
There’s chaos on the outside of my little bubble, but it’s like none of it can reach me. None of it really sinks in. Anything could be happening. The church where Knox and Natalie were supposed to get married could be on fire, or there could be a gang war happening in the street, but it would be the same distant echoes as everything else.
All I can see, all I can focus on, is my sister’s face. Blank and lifeless. As my mind tries to process the fact that she’ll never open her eyes again, shock resonates through me.
Hannah’s features are so similar to my own. We have the same nose, upturned a little at the tip. The same mouth, even though Hannah always had a dimple on the right side that would deepen when she smiled. When her eyes were open, they were the same dark blue as mine. The scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out starkly against the paleness of her face, and I swallow hard, trying to keep down the… something that wants to claw its way out of my throat.
Maybe it’s another scream.
Maybe it’s bile.
I don’t know, and I’m not ready to find out.
Hannah’s face used to be so full of life. It used to light up with her smiles and her laugh, her unwavering determination.
Her hair is light brown, almost a sandy blonde, instead of the silver of my hair, but even that seems lank and dead now.
Just like the rest of her.
Her face is slack, and there’s nothing there anymore. No light, no spirit. Nothing.
She’s gone.
Just thinking that makes pain burn through me. It’s hot and intense, like being burned alive. It washes through my bones, through my soul, like it wants to consume every single part of me with the knowledge that I’ve lost my sister for real this time. There’s nothing I can do to get her back.
I keep staring down at her, almost like I’m waiting for something to change. I’m rooted to the spot, shock and anger and hurt keeping me in place.
I don’t know if I’m crying or not. I can’t tell if my face is wet with sweat from running or if it’s raining or what.
Hands grab me, trying to pull me away, and I instinctively jerk away from their grasp. I open my mouth to yell a firm and furious, “No,” but no sound comes out. At least, I don’t think it does. I don’t want to leave my sister. I can’t leave her dead in the middle of an alley, like she’s just some other body to be tossed away. I won’t.
Voices try to reach me through the haze, but I block them out.
A new hand closes around my arm, big and warm, and I snatch away from it, rearing back. More hands come down to try to get ahold of me, and I fight back, scratching and clawing, kicking away from the people trying to tear me away from my sister.
The voices get more and more insistent, but they’re not making any sense. They may as well not even be there.
The hands manage to get me up to my feet, and I struggle to get away. Now that I’m standing, Hannah’s body seems too far away, and something like panic hits me. A knowledge, sharp and terrifying, that if I leave her now, I really won’t ever see her again.
That’s just too much to handle. Too much to bear.
Arms wrap around me, pinning me to a broad, warm chest. My arms are trapped at my sides, making it harder to lash out and fight back.
That doesn’t really stop me, though. I still yank against that hold, trying to get away. My heart races, and I can hear my own harsh breathing reverberating through my ears.
I don’t take my eyes off Hannah. I just want to get back to her. I just want to hold her. I need to. I need—
A face comes into focus in front of me, and I have to blink a few times to recognize it as Ash’s face. He looks grim, and there’s dirt and grime and blood streaked across his face. His glasses are a little askew, a streak running across one lens, and his chocolate brown hair looks as wild and unkempt as the rest of him.
I can tell he’s tired, worn down, and he reaches out for me, putting a hand on my shoulder. His mouth moves, but I don’t hear him at first. I can almost read his lips though, making out the shape of what he’s saying.
My name.
“River.”
That pulls me back, and I shake my head, trying to clear it. The little bubble of shock and numbness to the outside world is threatening to pop with each passing second, leaving a ringing in my ears and a searing pain in my heart.
“We have to go,” Ash is saying. “River, listen to me. Please. She’s gone. There’s nothing we can do. The cops are on the way, and we have to move.”
His words pop the bubble a little more, leaving me with more attention for what’s going on. The scream of the sirens is getting louder in the distance, and I can hear the squeal of tires as the other guests at this shit show of a wedding peal out of the church parking lot themselves.
I can still hear my own breathing, loud and labored, but everything else is in much clearer focus now. The gunshots have stopped, and the church itself seems almost eerily quiet after the chaos that erupted inside.