Cassian lived because other men bled. But this time, he stank of fear. The knives that rested on his thigh were visible for Vash to see.
Vash threw his elbow against Cassian’s nose, deviating his septum. Clenching his fingers around the neck of the fool, he wasted no time choking the air out of him. As each millisecond passed, Vash forced down harder until he felt the cracking of his windpipe.
Roaring, Cassian writhed his fingers around Vash’s eye sockets. Vash whipped his head from side to side, stretching his neck back. “You were never my brother,” Vash uttered under his breath. “You were a bastard, stolen from his real home.”
Choking on his last breath and tears, Cassian jerked his blade upward against Vash’s gut. Vash fought back, wrapping his claws around the jagged edge, pulling with all his strength. Although it cut into his palms, he closed his eyes and fell back with the blade out of his belly.
Cassian collapsed with his jaw unhinged, air flowing against his upper palate. “Mother… I have done bad.” He choked on his tears.
His eyes focused on the bed. Her torn cables… The awful rotting color spreading from her cheeks…
“Oh, God…”
With a light whisper, she would have told him he was the rightful heir. She would have held him and stroked the nerves underneath his failing hairline. She would have kissed his cheek and weathered his pain. She would have painted the picture of power so delicately that it felt possible. At least, that’s what Cassian wanted to believe.
A river cuts through rock because of its persistence, not because of its power. And that’s exactly why Vash knew he would lose. The sea of plagued humans had hit their boiling point. They would start to learn persistence.
Suddenly then, as if sensing the single and unavoidable conclusion to all this, Vash lowered his hands before Cassian could speak. Bleeding and stumbling, he tore away the bed sheets and smashed out the rest of the cables with two hands that came away bleeding and glistening with electricity. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the flare gun and jammed it into her core. He pulled the trigger and felt the hot flame escape and explode him back.
Vash turned to face the dead body on the bed and waited until the moment of equilibrium was reached and Cassian’s final breath faded from his gawking lips. He heard Wren’s whimpers echo from the hallway, and forever, their pasts resolved into a tonic of darkness and the final absence of all motion.
“Wren!”
Vash ran to her, scooped her hurt body into his arms and quickly ushered her into the room with the medical equipment. Delicately, he placed her on the table and turned to find the tools. “I’m sorry,” she whispered with strain.
Vash felt his heart twist into a knot. Holding pressure against her wound, he ran his palm across her cheeks. He’d forgotten how radiant she looked. Trying not to tear up, he said, “Don’t you ever say you’re sorry to me.”
Wren puckered her lips to breathe, shivering through the cold of the water. She pulled against the threads of his damp shirt until his face moved closer to hers. Her lips trembled above his, and he could smell the sweet nectar scent coming from her wet hair. “I was so scared,” she whispered.
Crushing their lips together with obsessive passion, Vash glided his tongue against hers and brought her taste back to him. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled lightly, breathing in her last scent. “This pack can’t lose you,” he whispered.
Tears trickled down from Wren’s glowing eyes. Swallowing, she took another anxious breath. “What if… what if I’m not supposed to live in this world?”
Vash let go and screamed, punching his knuckles into the used IV bag. There were no medical tools in this room besides the spare needles and pain meds in the corner. He turned and took her face into his hands, shaking her awake as her eyes began to close. “You’re not going to die, dammit! Wake up!”
A light smile wrapped in a bluish hue, formed on her face. “It’s okay, Vash,” she whispered. “It’s okay to let go.”
Vash watched as her breathing slowed. Quickly, he ripped his shirt off and tore the edges. Wrapping the tattered cloth against her shoulder, he tightened a knot and made sure it held. Glancing at the open door to the outside, he took a giant breath and started for the exit.
“Stay there!” he shouted.
The night was a dark shade of smoky death. The city, what was left of it, had been decimated by warfare. “My God,” he whispered to himself, stepping toward the edge of the deck. The quick snap of bullets winding into the concrete could still be heard every few seconds.
Using the last of his strength, Vash took the flare gun and aimed at the night sky above. He felt the furrowing phoenix of a cartridge rise into the air and detonate into shimmering tendrils of red. He collapsed and watched the light burn out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wake up, Precious.”
Still a bit sore, Wren yawned and groaned. “Where…” She opened her eyes and gasped. A woman stood above her bed, holding the spinal tap in her hands, but it wasn’t the hospital tool that scared her. It was the fact that the woman looked exactly like her. “Help!” she cried out.
“Wren, they found us. It’s going to be alright,” Vash said, grabbing her by the waist.
“W-Who is she?!”
Killian held Wren’s arms against the hospital bed. Reaching back toward Ruby, he clawed his hands open. “Give me some zip-ties!”
“No!” Wren thrashed wildly, sending Killian to the floor. Pouncing at him with sudden strength, she held his throat and gave him a look of fire.