by L A Cotton
Jackson and Elena had spent all week trying to persuade me not to go to the party at Dead Man’s Cove. But if Jackson was going to be there, then so was I. Something was going to happen, and I didn’t want him caught in the crossfire—not that I had a plan of exactly how to keep him out of trouble while also keeping our relationship under wraps. But if it came to it, I would try my damned hardest.
“The guys will meet us at the gate and walk down with us.”
Perfect. I silently cursed. That meant putting up with Paul and his puppy dog eyes all night. I liked him, I really did, but at times, I had caught him eyeing me, and it was just too much. I was still getting used to Jackson wanting me, let alone another guy.
Twenty minutes later, we had survived the trek down to the cove—the ground underfoot being drier than it had been the last time—to what could only be described as chaos. There were people everywhere, and it looked like the whole student body was crammed onto the cold beach, pressing up to one another, popping and grinding their bodies to the beat. Braiden wasn’t exaggerating when he said the party would be done Fallen style. The beach had been transformed; a huge pop-up gazebo anchored down with rope sheltering tables overflowing with kegs, coolers, and cups. Members of the team passed Jell-O shots out from huge trays, and a massive bonfire and Tiki torches provided lighting and warmth from the bitter wind.
Paul whistled through his teeth, and said, “Shit, these dudes know how to party,” while helping himself to two Jell-O shots and a beer.
I passed up on the offer of a drink, too busy trying to find Jackson in the crowd. Most of the team were in their jerseys, so I focused on anyone dressed in white, black, and green, but there were just too many bodies and my eyes couldn't pick him out against the mass of faces all merging into one.
“He’ll be okay.” Elena came up beside me, squeezing my hand, and I pursed my lips. “Hmm, you heard what Talia said, and the rumors have been circulating all week. Something is going down tonight, Elena. And if it involves Reibeckitt, it’ll be nothing good. I’m just-”
Tyson came up behind her, and I stopped dead. “And what are you two whispering about?”
Elena turned into him and brushed her lips over his. “Nothing, papi. Now come dance with me.” It wasn’t a question, and she led him to the alfresco dance floor, which seemed to be the length of the whole beach.
The wind whipped through the cove, biting into my skin, and I stuffed my hands in my pockets. Paul was busy downing drinks with Nate and Jamie, and I had yet to spot Lydia and Cassie, so I walked toward the huge bonfire. Its flames licked the night sky, and the fire pulled me in, entrancing me. It was just like the ocean, only where the ocean was peace, the raging fire was sinister, and I couldn’t help but think it was foreboding—a sign of something bad to come.
A hand brushed my back, so gently I had almost missed it. I went to move, but two hands fixed me in place. “Don’t draw attention.” Jackson’s voice cut through everything; the music, the drunken conversations, even the crackle of the fire. “You shouldn’t have come, Ana. I told you not to come.”
My heart sank. I came for him because I cared about him, and he didn’t even want me here. As irrational as it was, it was the only thought I could form.
“Don’t even think it,” he said, knowing exactly what was rushing through my mind. “You know if I could, I would wrap you in my arms and kiss you senseless, right on this very spot for the whole damn place to see. But it’s not about us tonight…something big is going down. Something I don’t want you anywhere near.”
My mind flickered back to when Jackson had turned up at my dorm room bruised with the shallow cut on his ribs. “Can’t you leave? Come back with me? I don’t want you to get hurt. I couldn’t stand it.”
Someone walked past us, and Jackson dropped his hands from my waist. “Fuck. I shouldn’t even be over here talking to you. This is so fucking hard. Just go home, Ana. You won’t want to be here for this. Go home and wait for me to text you.”
Jackson’s cryptic words set me on edge. The pain in his voice told me how hard it was for him to say the words, and yet he had still said them—crushing my feelings in the process.
Before I had a chance to answer, someone called out to him, and he left. Just like that, he was gone. I spun around to try to see the direction he went in, but the crowd had swallowed him up. My whole body was humming from my proximity to Jackson, but it was replaced by a sinking feeling when I looked over to the gazebo for any sign of the guys. Chad was standing rigid, watching me, a knowing smile on his face.
I glared back at him for just a second. I was done with his veiled threats. So what if he saw Jackson and me together? Maybe it was time for it to be out in the open.
Some secrets couldn’t be kept forever.
~
“Can you feel it?”
“Feel what?” I asked Elena, hoping she was talking about something other than whatever was causing the pit in my stomach.
“The tension. The calm before the storm. Something is about to go off, and it isn’t going to be good.” She sipped her beer and then tilted the bottleneck toward the far side of the beach, where most of the Fallen were gathered.
A quick glance and it looked like they were just enjoying the party; drinking, goofing around, and pawing at girls who were making it too easy for them. But I had been watching them for the last hour and they were on edge. More than once, I caught Braiden’s eyes flicker to the trail entry. He was waiting for something—or someone. Jackson stood on guard, by Braiden’s side, his shoulders square, and there was a younger guy on Braiden’s other side. I didn’t recognize him at first, but when he turned to say something to Braiden, I blinked. It was like looking at a younger version of him; the same icy cold eyes, except he had darker hair and a slimmer build than his older cousin. My eyes roamed back to Jackson, fixating on him, so when he straightened and his jaw muscle clenched, I knew that whatever it was they were expecting had arrived.
Elena gripped my hand, pulling my eyes off Jackson and following her line of sight to the mass of figures walking down the beach. The pit in my stomach widened like an empty cavern. Reibeckitt had arrived, and they didn’t look like they had come to the party.
Braiden stepped forward, cricking his neck from side to side. He fisted Jackson’s jersey, yanked him closer and said something to him before fist bumping him and turning his attention to the younger clone of him. Jackson was still, his eyes narrowed on Cole Calder. I noticed Lyle Trister in the crowd, but other than that, the figures were all faceless.
“Shit’s about to turn bad,” Paul whispered, somewhere from behind us, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away to look for him.
There was no music now, no drunken chatter or sounds of a college party in full swing. There was only the sound of the sea crashing onto the shore, the wind whipping around the cove, and dead silence.
Everyone focused on the two groups standing against a moonlit backdrop. If the atmosphere weren’t so tense, it would have been a sight to behold. But the air sizzled with anticipation, everyone waiting for someone to make the first move.
Calder stepped forward, and I sucked a sharp breath, my hand gripping Elena’s arm instinctively. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to happen, but from my subconscious reaction, it wasn’t anything good.
“We've got shit to sort, Donoh-”
Braiden’s fist flew at Cole’s face, a loud crack reverberating off the rocks. A low rumble of gasps and mutters filled the cove. Cole stumbled back, clasping a hand over his bloody nose. And then all hell broke loose.
The guy to the right of Cole dived at Braiden, knocking him to the floor. They rolled onto the sand, jabbing each other with clenched fists. Jackson grabbed Cole and shoved him to one side, before driving his fist into one of the unfamiliar faces. My body winced and my heart lurched into my mouth. Elena clutched my hand, but it offered little comfort, as the guy I believed to be Roman, Braiden’s younger cousin, flung himself into the chaos throwing his fist
at anyone not wearing Fallen colors.
People started to shift back, moving away from the fight. Some even hurried off the beach and back up the trail. But most just watched the scene unfold, held in a trance by the frenzy in front of them. I was the same, and although each punch ricocheted through me, sending my stomach into a sickening somersault, I couldn’t look away. Until someone grabbed Jackson from behind and held him still while another guy punched him in the stomach.
I was on my feet in a second, but a pair of arms came at me from behind, yanking me back. "Oh, nooo, you don't. Not tonight, Mother Teresa," Paul's voice said, his restraint on me tightening as I thrashed against him, trying to break free.
The guy punched Jackson again, causing my stomach to lurch as Jackson's head rolled forward with pain.
"A little help over here," Paul called out over his shoulder, and another set of hands came to steady my waist. "Easy girl." Tyson's voice cut through my red mist and I blinked up at him.
"Christ, Ana, are you totally loco. You can't get involved with that." Elena's voice was quivering as she stepped next to Tyson.
"I- Ja-"
Elena's stare stole my words, and she said, "We all know you feel some need to be a good Samaritan but not here. We need to get out of here. It's out of control."
"The cops will be here soon. They'd be on to the party."
I nodded trying to look away from the bodies grappling with each other. The cops would be good. They would break up the fight.
"Put. It. Down. Calder." Braiden's voice pierced the air. There was something in his tone that was different.
When I looked up, I saw it. The glint of the metal reflecting under the moonlight. Cole was holding a knife. My eyes zeroed in on the small blade, following along its sharp edge to the tip, and falling on the person standing on the other end. Jackson.
My knees buckled and Tyson had to steady me, walking back to one of the fallen trunks. I heard him ask Elena something, and she muttered something under her breath in Spanish, but all I could do was stare.
Everyone was watching Cole. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and frozen everyone in time. He inched toward Jackson, a maniacal look in his eye, his jaw twitching. The guy had lost it.
"Calder, don't do something you can't take back." Braiden cautiously stepped up next to Jackson, his palms out facing Cole, the way cops do when they’re trying to talk down someone about to do something crazy.
Cole swiped his arm toward Braiden so that the blade now aimed at him, and Jackson's body sagged slightly.
"You came into my town and fucked with Calder business. You gotta pay, Donohue. I'm sending a message. The Donohue's days are numbered."
Everything happened so fast. Cole lunged forward, the knife outstretched in front of him. Braiden's eye widened, almost bugging out of his head, before someone shoved him out of the way. My eyes concentrated on Braiden falling to the sand that I almost missed Jackson's face twisting in pain, his limp body sagging to the ground, the red stain spreading across his jersey.
Someone screamed. It was so full of pain that it gave me chill bumps. Then I realized everyone's eyes were trained on me—the whole crowd was looking at me… because I was the one screaming.
Tyson loosened his grip on me, and I took off, my feet carrying me as quickly as they could across the sand. I reached Jackson just as Braiden pulled himself up onto his knees and the color drained from his face as he saw his best friend lying motionless.
"Jackson, Jackson. JACKSON." My voice didn't sound like my own.
"What the hell are you doing?" Braiden glared at me. "Get the fuck away from him. Rome, ROME, call an ambulance. Fuck. And someone grab that fuck Calder before he makes a run for it. NOW,” he barked out.
I didn't meet Braiden's glare, even though I could feel it burning into me.
"I thought I said get the fuck away from him."
I ignored him, smoothing my fingers over Jackson's face, tears dripping off my cheek and rolling down my jacket. "Jackson, open your eyes. Please, you can't leave me. I need you."
Braiden's arms came around me and he lifted me off the floor and threw me to one side, and I slumped onto the sand in a heap. Tyson was up in his face an instant. "Can't you see how much she's hurting? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Walk away, Manster. This isn't your fight."
Elena gripped Tyson's arm, pulling him back to us, a string of incoherent Spanish expletives rushing out of her mouth. A crowd was gathered around Jackson's lifeless body now. I wanted to go to him, but my body and mind had detached from one another, and all I could do was watch.
A siren whirred up on the cliff and relief coursed through me. The EMTs would save him—that was their job, right? To make everything better, to fix people. They couldn't fix your parents. They couldn't fix Danny, my mind screamed and a whimper escaped my lips. Elena wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her. Paul, Nate, and Jamie had joined us now; they were all watching, somber expressions on their faces.
It seemed like an eternity before the EMTs burst through the clearing and hurried to Jackson, starting to work on him as soon as they reached him. I thought I caught Jackson's eyes flicker open as I clung to Elena like a lost child.
A cop started to clear the area, sending huddles of students on their way, before pulling Braiden to one side. Another started taking statements from members of the team. I didn't watch their exchange; I couldn't take my eyes off Jackson. The EMTs started an IV and expertly rolled him onto the board. They cut his jersey off and bandaged the stab wound, but blood was seeping through the gauze. Two more cops arrived with more EMTs, carrying some kind of winch and a trolley.
My body wracked with sobs as I watched them wheel him to the main trail entrance and disappear into the thick.
And then everything went black.
Chapter 21
I hadn’t seen Jackson for twenty-five days. I hadn’t laid wrapped in his arms or felt his lips brush over mine. I hadn’t felt his body covering mine or him moving inside of me. I hadn’t felt anything.
I was numb.
The last image I had of Jackson was of the team of EMTs carting away his lifeless body. I had broken out of Elena’s grasp and ran over to them, screaming at them for information on where they were taking him. But Braiden soon shut them down, storming over and barking at them that he was Jackson’s family, and that no information was to be given out—to anyone. Of course, they complied. Even Tyson tried to reason with him, but Braiden wouldn't hear of it, shooting killer glares in my direction. Our secret was out, and from the hatred in his eyes, I had just become Donohue enemy number one.
But none of it mattered. How could they possibly make things any worse for me when the one person who had started to heal me was laying broken on the stretcher?
I had woken the morning after the party wrapped in Elena's arms, the evidence of my mascara stained tears smudged all over her blouse. My body was spent from all the crying, but when it all came flooding back to me—the fight, the knife, Jackson's twisted expression—there were no more tears. I was all cried out.
That first week was the hardest. The poisonous void slowly dragging me into its depths, clawing at the last shred of my resolve until there was nothing left. Elena came and went, refusing to leave my side unless absolutely necessary. Tyson and Paul stopped by when they could, never quite sure what to do or say, cracking jokes and goofing around. Neither of them mentioned what had happened at the beach, but Paul’s soft eyes questioned me more than once. Even when Cassie and Lydia came by, telling me about the latest CFA gossip, they were careful to avoid talking about anything Fallen related.
But none of them brought me the news that I so desperately needed. All they knew was rumor and speculation. Jackson was in the ICU. Jackson was recovering at Marcus Donohue's family property on the outskirts of town. I even heard Elena bitching to Tyson one day while they thought I was sleeping. Another rumor was circulating, one that hurt more than all the rest put together... Jacks
on was recouping in an unknown location with Briony. After a while, I stopped asking for updates. Instead, Elena and the guys would just hang their heads in defeat when they entered the room. And I knew there was still no word.
~
When the following Monday rolled around, Elena had been getting ready as usual except instead of leaving me wrapped in my comforter, she yanked it off me and said, "Either you get your butt out of bed, or I call that doctor woman. Time’s up, chica. I'm staging a friend intervention.”
My eyes had narrowed at her and a low growl escaped my throat, but I should have known my Latina roommate wouldn't give up that easily. She had stared right back and we remained silent, our eyes locked on the others, until Elena reached into her jean pocket, pulled out her cell and sang, "Seven, seven, three, two, one, two, five, one, five."
"You wouldn't." I was calling her bluff, but deep down, I knew that she would.
Elena's eyebrow had arched in challenge. "Try me. Get your butt in the shower and get dressed. You are leaving this room today. He wouldn't want this, and he’d expect me to look out for you." Her finger pointed to the bathroom door. "In there. Now."
She had used my weakness against me, and I both hated and loved her for it.
The shower did make me feel a little better; maybe it was the water's purity, the way it cleansed me. But I had felt okay enough to get dressed and face the rest of the student population. I just hadn't given much thought to my newfound celebrity status.
As I had followed Elena down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, I was too locked in my own thoughts to notice. But I did catch Elena repeatedly glancing in my direction. The look of worry etched into her features. After a while, it grew a little old and I barked at her, "What in the hell do you keep looking at me like that for?"
That was when I noticed them—the heads all focused on us... me. My hand had reached out, clutching Elena closer to me, and my breath came in short bursts. Immediately noticing my anxiety, Elena had rubbed her hand over my mine and whispered to me, “You’ve got this. You. Can. Do. This.”