Liberty

by Kirsty Dallas

  Staggering to get to my feet, I was pushed back down by one of the soldiers behind me, and another swift kick to my wounded thigh almost stole me from consciousness. My entire world spun. I was going to lose her. She had won but I was still going to lose her. Desperation had my fingers dig into the ground as I tried once again to get to my feet.

  Jebediah glanced my way, his usually smug grin gone, his eyes wide with shock. “Ink,” he began, his voice holding tight to composure, even though the rest of his body indicated chaos. I staggered to my feet and froze, my body resting heavy on my one good leg. “I think our little bird cheated.” Swinging his attention back to Gracie he stopped just a few feet away. She had collapsed from atop Jeze’s form and was trying to push to her feet, fighting fatigue and pain. When she noticed Jebediah standing between the two of us, guns raised, she too froze.

  “What have you done?” Jebediah murmured, his gaze darting from Gracie to his sister’s lifeless body. “What have you done,” he screamed.

  Gracie’s body shook as she glanced at Jeze. Finally, she grinned, blood on her teeth giving her a menacing look. “I killed your bitch of a fucking sister.”

  And then all hell broke loose.

  ***

  Bullets shattered the shocked silence, screams filled the night. Jebediah ducked, swinging his guns away from Gracie and me in search of his new enemy. There were too many though, men flooding through the buildings and trees, all armed, all wearing the standard uniform of the rebel forces.

  Holy shit, Slink had made it.

  My vision wavered as I struggled to stay on my feet. A bullet whizzed by so close it shifted the air and burned my cheek in its wake.

  “Gracie, get down,” I commanded.

  Instead, she was frozen in place as Jebediah turned on her, both of his guns aimed at her chest. “How about I help you with that?” Jebediah snarled.

  Digging my foot into the ground for purchase, I ran, ignoring the screaming pain in my thigh as I bellowed her name. Horror blanketed her face, leeching the color from her beautiful features.

  There was no way I would make it in time.

  “Shoot me you fucker, leave her alone,” I bellowed.

  Jebediah grinned, the self-righteous smile of insanity back in place on his pierced lips. He never said a word as he turned his attention back on Gracie, and my heart ripped right down the middle. He couldn’t take her away, not after we’d come so close to freedom. If she died, I’d fucking follow her right into the afterlife.

  Suddenly, Jebediah’s body rocked forward, his back arching, his grin disappearing. With chaos all around us, war reigning down on the men who had invaded Liberty, time crawling to a standstill. Jebediah was shot, multiple times. As his body was thrown forward by the force of the bullets lodging in his back, his finger squeezed the trigger of one of his guns, releasing a bullet that flew straight toward Gracie.

  “Nooo,” I screamed, changing course from Jebediah to Gracie.

  Her tiny body was thrown back a few feet by the impact, and I slid to my knees and collapsed over her. For a moment I stilled, searching for signs of a bullet wound. There was nothing, yet she didn’t move, her horror-stricken eyes glued to mine. Then I saw it, the morbid bloom like an unfurling flower as it spread on her dirty white thermal shirt.

  Chest. The bullet hit her in the fucking chest.

  “No, you fucking don’t,” I yelled, gripping her cheeks. “Hold on. Don’t you fucking give up, you hear me?” I demanded. She looked so small and fragile, not the warrior who had battled for my life only moments ago.

  “It hurts,” she whimpered, her breathing already raspy.

  “Shhh… don’t try and talk, save your energy. You’re going to need it when I spank your ass red for pulling this shit.” Her face grimaced in pain. “Ashlynn!”

  Looking around me I tried to search through the confusion for a familiar face. Fury was attacking a man with deadly fists that were turning him into pulverized flesh right before my very eyes. Ace, Axel, and Charlie were engaged in their own fights, while men in rebel uniforms began rounding up the mercenaries.

  Isaac was jogging toward me, his sniper rifle still in his hands as he watched Jebediah’s unmoving body.

  “Ink?” a familiar voice came from beside me.

  My panicked gaze darted around until I found the owner of that voice. Harrigan, the leader of the rebellion.

  “She needs a medic,” I frantically begged.

  “Edwards… over here, now,” Harrigan ordered one of his men to our side.

  The soldier carried a large backpack which he hastily shouldered off, throwing his weapon to one side. When his hand went to Gracie’s shirt, I stopped him with a growl, my hands wrapped around his wrists. Common sense had fled me, and animalistic possessive need controlled my response to another man touching my Grace.

  “He’s a medic, let him work,” Harrigan ordered, his voice level and full of authority.

  Understanding seeped into my chaotic thoughts, and I released his hands, allowing him to rip Gracie’s shirt right up the middle. The bullet had lodged high in her chest, in the flesh of her upper breast.

  “Ink?” Her breathless voice pulled my attention away from the wound.

  “It’s okay,” I crooned, leaning in until my nose touched hers. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Ink,” she repeated her eyes full of panic. “I… breathe… Ink…”

  She fought for air, her body convulsing with the need to take a breath.

  “What’s happening?” I demanded.

  “Must have clipped a lung,” the medic responded, efficiently pulling things out of his bag.

  The fingers on Gracie’s good hand dug into my bicep, and I reached for her hand, enveloping it in mine. She felt so delicate, but I knew beneath the fine bones and pale flesh she was made of steel. Gracie was the perfect combination of power and vulnerability. From just a child she’d infected me with a lethal dose of love, which grew into intense feelings of need as she changed right before my eyes, from awkward teenager to a beautiful woman. Her wings had once been clipped, but in Liberty she’d found freedom, and she fucking flew.

  “You did so good, buttercup,” I whispered, blowing warm air into her cold fingers. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

  Her eyes watered, but she didn’t look away, a blink sending the built up tears over her lashes and down the sides of her face.

  “I love you so fucking much, Gracie. Don’t you dare leave me,” I implored, unashamed that my own tears worked themselves free. I’d only ever cried once before, a few tears for a lost soldier and friend, but right now my tears fell unchecked, wetting my skin and landing in perfect drops on Gracie’s face, combining with her own grief and sorrow. “I can’t do this without you, so you fucking stay with me.”

  Thick lashes fought the darkness, and I watched her lose the battle. On one long, deep breath her body went still, her fingers limp in my hand, and her green eyes disappeared under her heavy lids.

  “No, no, nooo…” My body jerked with disbelief. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me,” I screamed.

  Someone pulled me away, and I watched in horror as the medic leaned over Gracie, his hands on her chest as he began trying to pound the life back into her heart. I fought to get back to her because I’d be damned if she was going to die. I fought the arms that manacled me in place. I fought my swimming vision and spinning head. I fought to get to my Gracie, and inevitably, under the darkness of starless night, surrounded by death and a win that somehow felt like a loss, I lost my fight as I fell into the shadows of darkness.

  CHAPTER 31 – Grace

  Every movement hurt, every breath hurt, every blink hurt. Pain consumed me until warm fingers dragged me away to a place where that pain disappeared. Surrounded by heat and a floating bliss that contradicted the icy violent anarchy I’d been trapped in only moments before, I sighed. This is where I wanted to stay, away from the pain, and far, far away from the fear. Here, in this place of freedom,
my thoughts drifted hazily over everything and nothing. I felt so carefree and light, I wondered if I might fly. Thoughts of Liberty, my friends, my home, flittered through my mind.

  Home.

  The notion came with an immeasurable feeling of sorrow. It didn’t make me want to cry, but left me feeling despondent and numb, as if my once full heart was now empty. Why did the thought of home upset me so?

  “This is my home.” A familiar voice, as warm as honey and seductively rasping filled my thoughts.

  “This beating heart… is my home.” The voice purred and my body melted.

  “You are mine, Gracie. My home.”

  Oh God, I knew that voice. My home, my love, my Ink. Something pulled me forward with a vicious yank, dragging me away from the warmth and right back into ice cold hands. With a deep inhale my back arched, and pain filled me like an overfull cup. So much pain, but in that pain was my home, and I’d endure a lifetime of pain just to have Ink holding me again.

  “She’s back,” someone murmured, and the ice cold hands left my body.

  Glancing down I found my chest exposed for all to see. Somewhere in my foggy brain, I knew I should be embarrassed, but I couldn’t find the energy to truly care. It was a battle to draw in a breath, and every time I did, my chest throbbed with unrelenting agony. With heavy lids, I closed my eyes and tried to reach for that warm place which had taken me away from this horror.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Grace.” The voice was familiar, determined and warm.

  Fighting lethargy, I forced my eyes open and found Ashlynn leaning over me, her glassy eyes brimming with steely determination.

  “That’s the girl, you stay with me. That bastard is not taking any more from us.” Gentle hands wiped away tears I didn’t even know fell. “Ink will have a blind fit if you fade on us again.”

  The name brought forward images and memories, forcing me to remember. The heavy sound of fists on flesh, grunts, pain, blood—so much blood. A colorless man with a manic grin and pale, evil eyes resting in sunken sockets filled my vision. The violent images were quickly replaced with something so vastly different. Tender fingers whispering over my flesh, warm lips on mine. The memory of my name tattooed in an elegant script caught my attention, and my fingers pressed together remembering the smooth texture of his skin under that dark ink.

  “Ink.” The words barely fell from my lips, the missing air from my lungs not allowing my voice to catch and sound the word aloud like I truly wanted to.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s being moved to the infirmary now. He’ll be fine… as long as you’re fine.”

  “Let’s get her moved, we need to get that bullet out.” The unfamiliar voice caught my attention, and I rolled my head to find a man I didn’t recognize. His blond hair was a chaotic mess, and his full lips were pressed together in worry. When his rich, chocolate eyes landed on mine, he smiled. He looked so young, even boyish with dimples set deep into his cheeks. “Just take it easy, Grace, I got this. I’m gonna fix you right up.”

  He was? But he looked so young.

  Something like a knife blade direct to my heart stole my sight as I slammed my eyes closed and groaned. Squirming, I tried to get away from the pain or find some reprieve from the never-ending agony. People began to shout, their words nothing but distant background noise to the discomfort of my body.

  And then the blissful darkness stole me away again.

  ***

  As my heavy lids blinked open, a room of soft shadows found its way into my hazy vision. It was dark. No, not completely dark, more like softly lit. Allowing my head to flop to one side, I found a lamp in the corner casting a warm glow upon the room. Pale gray walls surrounded me, along with a smooth white counter littered with paper, cups, towels, and instruments I couldn’t put a name to. A body moved past me, and I followed it with my eyes. Turning around, a young man with blond hair stood reading something off a clipboard in his hand. Letting out a soft grunt and something that resembled an amused snort, he gently placed the clipboard to one side, then turned his attention my way. Noticing my open eyes, he smiled. Dimples in a too young face. I recognized that face from somewhere, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where.

  “Nice to have you back in the land of the living, Grace.”

  He knew my name, but I was sure I didn’t know his. I couldn’t place where I knew him from. His voice was soft, melodic even, soothing.

  “Are you in any pain?”

  Was I? All I felt was disjointed and dreamy.

  “We’ve got you on a heavy dose of morphine, it will make you feel sleepy.”

  One heavy blink confirmed my lids felt like lead weights. Sleep called me, beckoning me forth with her tender fingers.

  “It’s okay, take all the time you need. Sleeping is the best medicine to heal a broken body.”

  I was broken? Where?

  There was no point in lifting my head, my neck felt as weak as a baby bird. Blinking once, then twice, I was unable to open them for a third time, and instead, I allowed my body to rest.

  ***

  “She’s been asleep too long.” The rough voice from somewhere close beside me was like a coarse growl whispered right in my ear. It made my heart jump.

  “She will sleep as long as she needs to. There’s no such thing as too long.”

  Young man, dimples, gentle voice. I recognized him immediately. A tone as smooth as velvet completely different from the irritated growl that seemed to wake the sluggish organ in my chest.

  “How can her body get strong if she’s sleeping?”

  The sullenly spoken words made me smile. Ink. I’d recognize that brooding whisper anywhere. An insufferable sigh filled the silent void.

  “Grace can’t gain strength until the worst of her wounds have healed. That’s what her body’s doing while she’s sleeping. She’s healing.”

  Healing… what was wrong with me? Forcing my eyes open I blinked against the bright light in the room.

  “Gracie?” Ink didn’t sound so sullen anymore. Instead, he sounded hopeful. The bright, glaring light disappeared and the soft glow from the last time I’d woken in this room replaced the stark brightness.

  “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered, his fingers slipping through mine.

  “What did I do this time?” My voice was rough and my throat burned when I spoke. It didn’t sound like me.

  “You’ve been out for quite some time, Grace. We had a tube down your throat for a while to help you breathe, so it probably feels a bit tight and sore. Here…” the blond stranger handed Ink a small cup with a straw in it.

  Ink accepted it in his heavily tattooed hands, the black color a stark contrast against the white, foam cup. Carefully, he positioned the straw in front of my lips. The cool water on my throat was heavenly.

  “You died,” Ink eventually said, spitting the words out with the same bad taste they resonated within my ears. “Twice!”

  “Oh,” was all I could manage. I had died? Surely death was met with something a little more poetic than the foggy memories I conjured. All I could recall was pain, then nothing but a floating kind of warmth. There were no pearly gates or bright lights, only a memory of feeling numb and comfortable. In that place, it was like my emotions had been switched off, unlike now. The thought of dying, of missing so much I was yet to experience, of leaving Ink, it terrified me. Sorrow, grief, fear, it all hit me at once. My throat grew even tighter as I tried to bury the tears. It was useless though, as they flooded my eyes just like the emotions flooded my heart.

  “Shit! I’m sorry,” Ink was quick to say, releasing my hand to stand and gently cup my cheeks. “I’m not angry at you, buttercup. Please don’t cry.”

  Nodding I went to raise my hands to his wrists, needing something to anchor myself to, only to find one of my hands wrapped firmly in bandages. Lowering it back to the bed beside me, I placed my palm over Ink’s. “I know.”

  More tears fell as my thoughts flew over everything
that had happened in the last couple of months. Jebediah had broken down our walls and ripped our peaceful existence out from beneath us. He’d taken the beautiful gift the rebel forces and given us and tarnished it. The deaths of Viviane and our soldiers, along with innocents like Connie and Skye were all a heavy, suffocating weight as I began to sob, finally allowing myself to grieve our losses.

  “Your tears are fucking flaying me, Gracie,” Ink murmured with a tight voice, his forehead pressed against mine, trying to get as close as possible without hurting me.

  A dull, sharp pain in my chest reminded me of an injury I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. Why did my chest hurt so much? A vision of Jebediah standing before me flashed through my mind. His guns outstretched, one pointed at me, one at Ink. Had he shot Ink a second time? Pushing the man hovering over me away, I began to frantically check his body. Stitches decorated a jagged line high on his forehead, his face was littered with bruises. His chest appeared whole, but I couldn’t see behind the jacket he wore. Tugging on it with frustration, I imagined all sorts of atrocities beneath the fabric.

  “I’m okay,” Ink finally said, understanding what I was trying to do. “I’m fine. I’ve been up and around for days. You’re the one with a hole in your chest.”

  My grip on his sleeve fell away as I tentatively touched my chest. The hesitant touch hurt and my tears of grief mingled with tears of pain.

  “You were shot in the chest, the bullet nicked a lung, but luckily for you, it missed all the other major organs, including your heart.” The gently spoken light-haired man stepped up to the side of the bed. “Your lung collapsed, which was why you had trouble breathing, but we were able to repair the damage. It’s lucky you had such a nice hospital so close.”

  “What happened?” I asked. My memories were disjointed, and I couldn’t put everything together in a way that made sense. “Where’s Jebediah?”