Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(88)

My time on this earth is over. I’ve had enough.

No one needs to hurt anymore. Not because of me.

I close my eyes and let it all happen. I know it’ll be an agonizing death, but I deserve every single inch of the excruciating pain to come. It’s a small price to pay for all the suffering I’ve caused. The stinging on my back isn’t so bad when I compare it to the heat of the fire that’s about to engulf me.

Suddenly, something wraps around my neck, ensnaring me from behind.

I open my eyes as someone whispers into my ear, “Don’t do this. Please. You gotta live. For me.”

My heart almost beats out of my chest. Dixie. Is she really here? Or are the flames messing with my head.

The grip grows tighter as it turns and shifts to the front, and I feel a pressure on my legs. Something … or someone … sits down on my lap.

Only when the smoke disappears for just a moment do I realize it’s really her.

“Dixie,” I mumble.

She’s really here in the flesh.

“Yes, it’s me,” she says, cupping my face. Her eyes tear up. “I’m here.”

“Dixie, I thought I’d never see you again,” I mutter, coughing from the smoke surrounding us.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice straining.

“I …” I can’t even answer that question without feeling incredibly humbled. “The world is better off without me and without this shop.”

She leans back, staring at me while tears run down her face.

SLAP.

I touch my face where it stings. Ouch. That hurt. But not as much as the look on her face.

“Brandon Locklear, stop this fucking bullshit right now,” she says, shaking me by the shoulders.

Damn, she truly is a potty mouth for sure.

“You’re better than this,” she says. “Don’t fucking do this.”

It hurts me to say this. “I have to.”

“Why?” she asks.

“There’s too much pain here,” I reply, lowering my head.

With a single finger, she tips my chin up. “There are better ways to deal with pain.”

“Not mine.” I take her hand and push it down. “Others.”

“You wanna die because you made other people suffer? Bullshit,” she snaps, then coughs from the smoke. She gets up from my lap and attempts to grab my hands, but I won’t budge.

“Leave me, Dixie,” I say. “Go. I don’t want you to die too.”

“No!” she yells, still tugging as hard as she can.

I don’t understand why she doesn’t just give up.

What’s there to save? I’ve done nothing but horrible things. I don’t deserve the life my papa gave me. All I’ve caused is ruin. It should end with me.

“No, you do not give up. Do you hear me? Do not fucking give up!” she yells, despite the fact her voice is crippled by the smoke entering her lungs. “Not after everything we’ve been through!”

But that’s just it. It’s all because of what I did.

I ruined her life. Why won’t she just give up on me?

She won’t stop until it’s too late, until even she can’t escape the fire anymore. I won’t let it happen. I love her too much.

“Dixie! Get out of here before it’s too late,” I say, looking her directly in the eyes. “Please.” I’m begging her right now. Pleading with her heart and soul to run away from the fire I started so she won’t burn down with it.

“I need you,” she says.

The sudden admission makes my heart stop and my breath falter.

What did she just say?

“Please … don’t abandon me,” she says, grabbing my hands while sinking to her knees in front of me. “If you go, I have no one left.”

“I caused all your misery. All your suffering and loneliness.”

“I don’t care,” she says, shaking her head.

How can she so easily forget about it and pretend it doesn’t exist?

“You should,” I reply, still trying to cling to that single emotion that has kept me going all my life. Guilt.

Her lips part, and with three words, my entire existence up until now caves in. “I forgive you.”

Her words undo me. Strip me of everything I thought I knew about myself.

In disbelief, I stare at her. The moment seems to last to infinity.

But I heard her words. I sucked them in along with the smoke and flames until they pushed out the shame and replaced it with something else.

Responsibility.

Because after all we’ve been through, all the time we spent together in solitary hardship, we’ve connected in a way that transcends relationships.

We’re no longer just killer and victim, enemies and lovers.

We’re one and the same.

Wounded people in search of a bigger meaning.

And in her, I’ve finally found mine.

As the flames engulf the shelves surrounding us, I stand tall and proud, and I pick up her body from the floor. She gasps and then chokes on her own breath, the smoke getting too thick.

In a feat of strength, I shove the chair aside and barge through the aisles, straight through the fire, and walk out the door.

The dark of night blinds me as I step away from the fire, watching the flames lick the outer rims of the shop. But I made it. I’m alive.