Her spot’s still warm, I realize as my heart leaps into my throat and I hastily grab the note, a singular page left on her pillow. Maybe she was taken. Or perhaps she’s just out for a walk. What if she, like, started, or something and she had to visit the store? Thousands of questions race by in a flash, but they’re all quieted when I finally focus to read what she wrote.
Zeke,
I know I said I wouldn’t leave. Actually, I think I promised I wouldn’t. But I’ve never been so good at keeping promises.
My heart drops to my stomach as I rush out the room, focusing on finding her, but I don’t feel her blip. She’s hiding from me. How long was she gone?
I clench my teeth and continue reading the note as I breeze past a distracted Druscilla. She calls out to me, but I don’t respond.
But I have to go. This is the only way we can win. I have to.
Please don’t hate me.
Oh. And make sure you burn this so there’s no evidence.
But I meant what I said.
Druscilla shouts my name. The lightness in the air tells me it’s still the middle of the night.
Mikaela! I call out, my thoughts desperate. I can’t lose you again.
Eternally yours,
Mikey
There’s a twinge of guilt in the distance, and a blip resonates in my chest before it’s gone again. She’s still in the compound. Vykra must have woke me right after she left the room.
“Mikey!”
The air shivers as I sense her change, and I use it to catalyze my own transformation, giving me a boost to my speed. As I skid around the corner, there’s a flash of blonde hair as she makes a mistake to turn over her shoulder. She stumbles and falls to the ground, and I’m right there on top of her.
“Zeke, let me go,” she demands as she finds her feet again.
“Don’t do this,” I plead as she slips away. I lunge forward and grab her wrist. Tears stain her face as she sets her jaw. There’s a ton of shuffling behind me as doors open and close to see what’s going on. The night crew are headed toward us to make sure everything’s okay.
“I have to.”
She jams something into my forearm. My Bleeder form shudders and disappears as electricity assaults my body. Did she steal a dart from Raquel? Theodor’s goons used those on us to stunt our healing.
She uses the moment to slip away, but I sprint after her. Already, the effects from the dart have started to wear off, I realize, as my skin slowly heals where the prongs dug into. I Rage, the transition slower than usual, but by the time I reach the top of the stairs, I’m fully turned.
Rick’s front door is wide open, and I watch as Mikey exits, but she isn’t Raged Out like I am. I move faster and reach toward her. She glances back at me, those emerald eyes spilling over with rue as she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
She disappears, as if she’s turned invisible.
I sniff the air, but nothing. I tear through the neighborhood, calling for her, earning some profanity for being so loud in the middle of the night, but there’s no trace of her. She’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t smell her. I can’t feel her.
I crinkle the note in my palm and stare up at the full moon, howling echoing through the night. The second apocalypse is on the horizon, a secret society is out to get us, and Mikey’s betrayed me. This pain hurts worse than when she died. It’s deeper, shredding my insides to ribbons and forcing clicks from my throat as fear and panic encase my brain.
My scream rips my throat raw as I shove every aching emotion into it. Fury wets my eyelashes and my skin trembles with more power than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Zeke.”
I spin to face the old vampire, his figure seeming to glow in the moonlight. Maverick lifts his chin, fury matching my own in his glowing ruby irises. There’s a sudden understanding that passes between us, dropping my rage to a simmer as I shrink. His hatred runs deeper for Mount Rook than mine ever could, but at this moment, we’re on the same wavelength as the fire grows hotter and hotter.
“I’ll kill them all,” I grind.
I expect him to make a sarcastic remark, or use this opportunity to teach me a lesson, telling me to trust in Mikey, but Maverick isn’t the same man I met in that alleyway over a year ago. Instead, he steps closer, the air around him dangerous, but it isn’t directed at me. With voice like gravel, he responds, lighting a fire in my chest.
“Let us dance on their graves.”
A gust of wind gives me chickenskin as the sun breaks in the horizon. It’s a new day. Every minute wasted is another step closer to D-Day, and I have the feeling the next time I’m up against Mount Rook, it will be my last.
And I can’t shake the feeling her face will be the last one I see before I’m six feet under.
For good.