T/W: Suicidal thoughts, dark themes, psychological torture... you might wanna sit down...

— Chapter 94 —
The One in Four

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E L L I O T

I'd woken up in a nightmare.

Dark. Every muscle was hardened cement. I couldn't breathe. My bones were iron rods, each joint rusted, like weights pinning me down. Black zip-ties secured my wrists together on my lap. Faint echoes of gunfire were a sign of distant danger.

Shifting against some kind of wall, I prostrated myself, fighting against the exploding pains in my head and neck.

Just blinking my sandpaper eyes open was a challenge. Even then, the darkness persisted. Where am I? It wasn't a place I could recognize, as my scattered vision suggested. What happened?

The foggy door to my left whipped open with a bang. Squinching, I watched dazedly as two silhouettes emerged—a man crowned with scarlet hair, and another, draped head-to-toe in black fabrics. Both were familiar, but exceedingly out of place.

"Aah, late entry!" The sound of Midas' sinister voice slammed panic into my senses. "Welcome, welcome—please make yourselves comfortable."

Everything rushed back to me at once.

I remembered all of it. Running to the truck, being pulled back, having some kind of needle jabbed into my neck. Midas gripping me tight. The world fading into nothingness.

I've been captured.

The red-haired one, Marcus, shoved the other figure to the floor. Whoever the other person was, he fought back—but with the hefty ropes binding his arms to his sides and his wrists behind his back, he didn't get far.

"Five of us had to team up to pin him down," spat Marcus bitterly. "He took out three. Fucker's as vicious as he looks."

Midas teased, "And whose idea was the muzzle?"

"Mine." Kneeling down, the redhead snarled at his tied-up prisoner. "Break my jaw and I'll strap yours in a cage. How's that for getting even?"

A low, rumbling growl was his only reply.

Marcus shrugged to his boss and adjusted the toothpick in his mouth. "I figured if he's going to behave like a mutt, we may as well treat him like one."

Haunting laughter crackled from the back of Midas' throat.

He trailed across the room, and Marcus finally moved away enough for me to lay eyes on his darkly dressed victim. Warmth immediately faded out of my body.

Had I possessed the strength at that moment, I probably would have screamed.

This can't be real.

"You're right. It's quite a laugh," said Midas, grinning with the disposition of a snake. "Ensure you pat him down like the rest of them—we can't afford anyone trying something foolish."

They were talking about Noah.

The Stray Dog was an unyielding heap of muscle propped up against the adjacent wall. Abrasive ropes roughly bound his arms, wrists, and ankles. Copious sums of blood had soaked his ragged hands a violent shade of red. Bruises and cuts painted stories of survival through his torn shirt and exposed skin.

But nothing struck as much fear into my heart than when I saw the metal cage strapped over his nose and mouth—a muzzle, fastened over a strip of tape on his lips, burying into the flesh of his cheeks.

I managed to whimper out his name.

Noah's golden eyes found me instantly. His face went stark white with horror.

"Perfect timing!" Turning to me with a look of delight, Midas clapped his hands together. "Looks like the star of our show is finally awake. No sudden moves, please—our friend Marcus here tends to get trigger-happy."

Marcus sneered, flexing his shoulder and the AK-47 tucked beneath it. I didn't care to wonder when he'd become just another one of Midas' pawns. With a puffed chest, he loomed over Noah's side like an executioner.

Midas came to a stop at my feet. I craned my head to look up at him, bleary-eyed.

This can't be happening.

"What did you do to me?" The question was a whisper off my shaky lips.

He petted my head and laughed. "Just another drug I had lying around. A sedative. It might make you feel groggy for the next few minutes, but I'm sure you'll get over it."

He drugged me, I thought, nauseous to no end.

"What's happening?" asked another voice, this time from my right. "Where's my grandmother?"

Recognising Han's accent, I zeroed into the space around me, trying to discern my surroundings. But the startling hits just kept on coming—because Noah and I weren't the only people tied up in here.

It was James. And Han, too.

James was in the middle, directly across from me, writhing in ropes on a wooden chair between Noah and Han. His hung head and disheveled hair obscured his face from my sight. Unlike Noah, his mouth hadn't been taped shut. And save for the sweat drenching his neck and chest, I couldn't detect any injuries on him. Thankfully.

Sitting tied up and cross-legged on the floor beside him was Han. Of all of us, he looked to be in the worst shape. Long, inexplicable wounds had been slashed through his body and scarred face, worsened by swollen bruises and drying blood. It seemed as if he'd given up already. Sympathy overcame me at the sight.

"Oh, Jesse?" purred Midas innocently. "Did I say she was on this ship?" He smirked. "Heh, funny thing—I lied."

Infuriated, Han snarled back at him, but I noticed the anguish tearing into his shadowy eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," said Midas. "I still have your grandmother tucked away in my pocket. She's safe, for now. Consider her my insurance."

"What are you doing to us?" I demanded in a rush of slurred syllables. Tingles had numbed my face. My neck throbbed with the dull aches given to me by Midas' needle. Desperate not to pass out again, I'd found myself concentrating on the pain.

"Relax," the gangster replied languidly. "I haven't done anything yet. What you're looking at right now is the setup to a very well-planned-out joke." He draped his arms over James' shoulders and mentioned, "Feel free to hold your applause until the punchline, by the way."

James curled his lip.

On my left, Noah continued to wrestle in his binds, glaring menacingly. The metal chain around his neck clinked as he moved to be closer to me—leading Marcus to roll his eyes.

"Settle down, mutt," said the redhead, pressing his foot down on Noah's thigh.

In that moment, I recognized that the muzzle was doing Marcus a serious favor. Had it not been there, Noah probably would've been shredding the asshole's throat out with his teeth.

I looked to the rest of the room. "Where are we?"

Finally able to see clearly, I tried to make sense of our environment. It was a storage room of some kind, with hard vinyl floors. A singular, yellow bulb was the only source of light combatting the shadows, illuminating a mess of wooden crates, cardboard boxes, and metal drums all around us. The tense air was dusty and thick, but most of all, hot.

That's right, I remembered. Fires had already been started on the upper level of the ship—we had to still be on it, then. It was the only way I could explain Noah's presence and the viscid heat. More importantly, the heat meant that if we didn't get out of here soon, everyone in this room would surely die from smoke poisoning.

How long was I out?

Confirming my guesses, Midas explained, "We're still on the ship. Below deck, to be more specific. There's a nice ambiance down here, don't you think? Dingy barrels, gloomy atmosphere... it's the perfect setting for a good old-fashioned murder."

"Murder?" I stammered back.

Is that why he brought us here? To butcher us?

"Well—" Midas shrugged— "I say murder, but you can consider it as more of a teachable lesson, really."

My head shook as fear made its nest in my ribs. "I don't understand what's happening. Please, just let us go. Whatever it is that you want, we can't give it to you like this." Nails digging into my palms, I raised my wrists. "Untie us and we'll talk. Please."

Marcus snickered from off to the side, his weapon glinting in the light.

"Oh," Midas spoke, "so now that I have you and your friends at my mercy, suddenly you want to talk? Did you throw your dignity overboard or something?" He preened his woven blazer. "Still, it's cute that you think those puppy-dog eyes can sway me now."

"Why are you doing this?" Han groaned.

Midas crossed his arms. "As much as I'd love to play the misunderstood villain, I'm afraid I don't have any tragic backstories to appease your curiosity with. None that I can share under our current time limitations, at least, considering this ship is about to explode.

"What I can tell you is this: I've been entertaining the foolery for long enough." Walking behind his row of victims, he started with Noah. "For impeding my races, burning my blitz—" next, James—"betraying my graciousness and behaving like a child—" then, Han—"for disobeying direct orders, and going behind my back. Tonight, everyone here will get what's coming to them. Did you honestly think I'd let those transgressions slide?"

James muttered dryly, "You're wasting your time."

"Please," I begged, "just cut us free. You don't have to hurt anyone. I'll give you whatever you want."

"That you will." Midas simpered; his eyelid twitched. "Truth or dare, Elliot?"

"What? I don't—"

He repeated, "Truth? Or dare?"

"Truth," I hurried out, only because I was desperate to be done with his insane whims.

Flaunting his crooked teeth, he spoke theatrically, "I thought James was your one, true love. Five years ago, he would've done anything for you. He even crossed me point-blank after finding out what I did to your mother. Now, nothing. He only gazes at you, with longing misery, while you and Edge skip off into the sunset together. So, why?" He asked, "Why did you pick Edge over him?"

James stiffened in his seat.

What the hell kind of question is that? I thought. What does that have to do with anything?

"You know the rules," Midas chirped. "Answer, please."

Inching back, my neck burned as I swallowed hard. Sucking in a shaky breath, I turned to the only Stray Dog in the room, whose starry eyes had never once wavered from my position.

Softly, I admitted in his direction, "Being with Noah makes me content."

And for a brief moment in this immeasurable hell, the world seemed to ease up a little.

It didn't last.

Midas sighed loudly—like he'd just stepped in shit.

"And?" he pried. "Don't tell me that's all you've got on offer. What happened to romance? To grand declarations of love and all that nonsense?" Urging me to confess, he added, "Please, do go on."

James turned his head away.

Refusing to take his iciness to heart, I looked briefly towards Midas and his expectant stare, then back to Noah. His warming gaze was much more comforting—but it didn't stop me from distressing over the brutal cage putting pressure on his cheeks.

I huffed. It's a grand declaration he wants?

"Noah, he..." I cleared my throat. "He sees me. After a lifetime of being the afterthought, the hopeless one, the last option... he was the first person to see me as an equal. He listens to me. He doesn't manipulate me, or lie to me, or ask me to make sacrifices for his own benefit." Smoothening out my hands, I softened my voice with a light smile. "He teaches me to put my happiness first, and... he is my greatest happiness of all."

I couldn't see enough of Noah's face to decide if he'd been touched by those words, but his shoulders weren't tense anymore, so I held out hope. We needed something reassuring in a moment like this.

After all, I'd lost the war against true love. And as much as I wanted to keep that loss quiet, it seemed the entire world was hell-bent on rubbing it in my face—much to Noah's satisfaction.

We have to make it out of this alive, I prayed silently. We just have to.

"And James?" Midas asked, just when I thought he'd been placated. "How does he make you feel?"

James spat, "We've had enough of your games."

"We haven't even started." Grinning, Midas twirled a lock of James' hair. "Dig deep, Elliot, and answer the question truthfully. What is it about James that you've forsaken?"

My first instinct was to answer with a lie.

Why? What was there to lie about? As much as James and I had history, I'd had enough of making myself small to spare his feelings. Yet, in the back of my mind, fear still controlled me—fear that my actions would set him off.

I had to know. After everything we'd been through lately, how would he react to the truth?

"When I'm with James," I started carefully, "it feels like I take up space. Like I come second to whatever resentment is running through his head. Like I'm a liability."

James, hunched over his seat, kept his gaze trained on the floor. Like he was counting every speck of dust there was to find.

"Don't stop there," said Midas. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

Hair in my eyes, I sighed. "He looks at me like I'm fragile. Like I'm weak. Like I'm something he can break and put back together whenever he feels like it, and I hate that he's always hiding things from me." Lower, I muttered, "He says he loves me, but... I'm always at arm's length with him. Always on the outside looking in. And I can't love someone if I'm always fighting just to understand who they are."

A statue on his chair, James had stilled completely. His eyes were scrunched tight. The unsteady breaths pouring from his lips were the only sign that he'd been listening. That he understood.

I'm sorry, a part of me thought.

Midas mused over my answer, then asked, "Do you resent him for lying to you about your mother?"

"No," I said firmly. "If there's anyone to resent in this room, it's you."

Midas was the monster in all of this. James had only lied about what happened because he was afraid of what Midas would do. I couldn't hold that against him. But I will never forgive him for that choice, either.

Through tight teeth, James finally addressed the monster leaning on his shoulders.

"Are you satisfied?" he hissed.

"That depends." Caressing James' cheek, Midas whispered into his ear, "Was it painful, James? Hearing what your first love truly thinks?"

James drew his head back, hellfire in his eyes, teeth on full display as he snarled, "I'm going to kill you."

Midas laughed.

"Now you know how I feel."

Straightening to his feet with renewed vigor, Midas dusted off his hands, turning to the rest of the room.

"Here's how this is going to go," he said, untucking a revolver from the back of his belt. "We're going to play one of my favorite games, but with a twist. I'm sure you've all heard of Russian roulette before—this is similar."

Circling the room, he emptied the chamber of his weapon, making a show of leaving just one bullet inside.

"The rules are simple: one gun, one bullet, one choice. Nobody leaves this room until a body drops dead. So, here." Cocking the revolver, Midas shoved it into my trembling hands. "Make your choice: Edge, James, or Han. Kill one, and the others go free."

I could hear the blood pounding in my ears.

Me? Kill one?

"That's not a choice," I stuttered out through a broken gasp. "That's slaughter."

"Like I said. Teachable lesson." He stated to those behind him, "And just in case any of you get any ideas, let me remind you all that Marcus here is fully prepared to shoot if anyone tries something stupid. Not only that, but I still have Jesse. If anything happens to me, she'll be dead before sunrise."

Han stilled at those words; his dejected posture did all the talking for him.

My wide eyes tapered towards the gun in my grasp.

Keeling over, I shuddered, mortified by the reality of the situation. Of the four of us, someone is going to die. Lightheadedness had me seeing everything in slithering twos. It's going to be my decision who to sacrifice. Whose life to take away.

The revolver weighed heavier with every thought. It was a brick in my hands, leeching out a thick tenor of brutality and ruination. Cold, like death, and desperate to be wielded. Just the ignominy of holding it made me want to cough up my own stomach.

He's asking me to destroy myself in exchange for freedom.

Exactly like my nightmares.

"I'm not going to play your sick games," I spoke breathlessly. "I refuse."

Midas scoffed. "Then I'll kill everyone in this room and leave with enough time to watch the smoke decimate the rest of your friends. Both paths work for me."

No. No.

This couldn't be happening. What do I do? He had us trapped. Caught. How did this happen? Noah, James, or Han. What am I supposed to do? There was no getting out of this. How am I supposed to choose?

Why me? Why me? Why me?

I wasn't strong enough to make this choice. I never knew what I was doing—I wasn't Noah. I wasn't a leader like him, a strategist like him, or the kind of person who could place logic over my own emotions. Maybe all of this would've been easier to accept had it been anybody else in my shoes—anyone else would know what to do. They would know who to pick.

Han, James, or Noah. The three of them were watching me now, and the collective tension was so thick that my mind couldn't make space for anything else.

I can't—I can't do this.

James, I quickly learned, had the most unsettling demeanor of the three of them. Coats of sweat teemed down his forehead and neck; from the heat or the stress, I couldn't decide. Bound to his chair, all he could do was bear witness to my panicking. Harsh breaths escaped his pale lips in sporadic bursts. More saliently, his eyes weren't dead like they usually were.

No—they were petrified.

Paralyzed to my spot, I looked towards Noah. His fortitude was something to envy; his trenchant gaze showed Midas no signs of weakness. As much as I was concerned for him, I also knew that composed exterior was his way of calming me down.

I can't choose, I wanted to cry. Tell me what to do.

But he couldn't. Like everyone else, he could only sit and spectate. Was he disappointed that I hadn't chosen already? Would he see me as weak for having hesitated this long? What do I do? Who do I choose?

Before anyone else, Noah was my first option to save. Even if I were to entertain this insanity game, I would never even consider turning the gun to him. Never mind my obsession with him or my desire to be with him—I could never take Noah away from his family. From Maria, or Jasper, or Emma, or even Chains and the Stray Dogs. He was their leader, after all, and a group with no leader would crumble quickly; much like a dog with no head was no dog at all.

Wait. Chains.

Before getting off the ship, I'd told him to go looking for Noah. He had to still be looking, right? Perhaps if I tried to stall—if I bided our time for long enough—Chains would be able to find us, and I'd never have to make this choice at all. That had to be the answer, right?

He has to find us.

Noticing my lack of urgency, Midas sucked his teeth and examined his golden wristwatch.

"Alright," he said, "fine. In the interest of making a clean getaway, I'm setting a time limit. Ninety seconds. You have ninety seconds to make your choice, else I'll make it for you."

My stomach dropped through the floor. There goes that idea. What now?

I couldn't use the bullet on Midas; Marcus would just kill everyone and leave our bodies on this ship to burn. Killing Noah wasn't an option—I'd sooner kill myself. And James... as much as he'd broken my heart and betrayed me in the past, the act of taking his life away would surely torment me forever.

"So... who's it going to be?" asked Midas. "Who's a dead man? Who's the one?"

With tears stinging my eyes, I found myself turning towards Han.

Between the three of them, he was the obvious pick—he was the only person who wasn't a friend. With his slumped shoulders, vacant stare, and defeated expression, he seemed to know that too. He wasn't putting up a fight. He wasn't resisting. Somewhere in the last minute, he'd accepted that death was his fate, and the only thing left for him to do was watch.

Just do it, his eyes seemed to say. Get it over with.

But it didn't feel right. Han may not have meant much to me, but he meant everything to Jesse—how could I possibly kill him, and rob him of the chance to ever see her again? How could I live with myself, knowing that I'd stolen his life from someone I called my friend?

This is torture.

Marcus scoffed at me and prodded the end of his gun to Noah's head.

"Clock's ticking," he threatened.

My mind worked on overdrive, trying to figure out how it'd come to this. I thought of my mother. I wondered if she was watching me now, and what she would say if she were here.

I wondered if she'd understand. I found myself wishing she was here to guide me, and I wondered if she was disappointed in me for bending the knee to the same person who had a hand in her death. Speaking of Midas, he was still looking down upon me—smirking, as if breaking apart my life was nothing more than a gratuitous pleasure.

"There's something I still don't understand," I admitted to him. "Something you haven't explained."

"Ask away."

"Why her?" Reinforcing my grip on the gun, I ignored Noah's burning stare and said, "Of all people, why was my mom the one you chose to drug? She was innocent. If it weren't for Blitz, she would've recovered."

And we never would have found ourselves here.

He tilted his head. "You know, I've never thought about it. Suppose there are plenty of good responses to that question, though. Tell you what—I'll let James answer."

James scowled at the mention of his name.

"Go on, dearest," said Midas. "Tell your one true love why I killed his precious mother."

"I don't know what you're talking about." With his stare finding the floor again, James' spine shrunk, and he leaned away from Midas' imposing hand on his shoulder.

Laughing, Midas remarked, "Oh, don't be shy! I'm sure you've guessed about it plenty of times. You know the answer—so explain it to him. Why did I have our charming Sylvia killed?"

Knowing he couldn't escape my attention, James ruminated silently, soon letting out a short exhale.

"He did it to punish me."

Every hair on my neck stood to attention.

"I was fifteen," James began, "when I ran away from home for good. But... it wasn't just my home and my parents that I was running away from. I was running from Midas. I was betraying the one man who'd served me unconditionally. And after I got emancipated—after I'd finally set myself free from that family—I met you." He murmured, "More accurately, you found me."

I remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the day that everything changed.

James continued, "You and your mother took me in, and... I fell in love with you. Your accepting nature, your compassion, your blind kindness—which you gave me even when all I had was rage. And in Midas's eyes, that love for you was the ultimate betrayal." With those words, a lonely tear watered his eye. "I chose you over him. For that, I had to be punished."

He sucked in a frustrated breath.

"Killing you would've been too easy," he explained. "Too cheap. So, he went for the only other person we both cared about. Sylvia. He poisoned her—destroying your father, devastating you, and unraveling me. Four birds with one stone. All because I dared to be selfish. All... all because of me.

"Your mother's death was my fault," he confessed with a crumbling voice. "My punishment. My love for you destroyed your life."

Yet another strike to my already battered heart.

Something about the way James spoke made it impossible to feel anything but sadness for him. He'd spent his entire life being controlled by evil people—from the cradle to adulthood, those same people had tried to shape him in their image. Despite all that, he still had the audacity to care. To love, even if he was imperfect at it, even if his way of showing it was warped and twisted. Even if doing so would always blow back in his face. Even if it ruined him.

He didn't deserve to die here.

"Wow. That was much better than what I was going to say." Midas shrugged, feigning innocence. "I figured I just did it out of boredom. But no, your answer was much more stimulating."

Hot tears carved streams down my cheeks. After a lifetime of hoarding and hiding them deep in the shadows, they'd finally turned on me.

Now, with stifled sobs and shuddering limbs, I couldn't reign it all in anymore.

They were tears of relief as much as they were tears of pain. Because I finally had no grievances left. Following years of questions, of lies, of abuse and grief and misery, I finally knew the truth. And in a way, that was all the freedom I needed.

I know what I have to do now.

Midas broke the silence first.

"Well, there you go. Some closure." He checked his watch and sighed. "Now, if you'd care to stop stalling, there's about... seventeen seconds left on my timer."

Seventeen seconds left to die.

"Noah, close your eyes."

Escaping my lips like a wisp of smoke, the request shook Noah viscerally.

He lurched upward; his golden eyes burst wide with horror. A muffled cry seeped out from the binds at his lips. Ignoring his injuries, he wrestled against his restraints so violently that I feared he'd snap his own wrists just to break free. His shoulders struck at the muzzle. His boots kicked aimlessly at the floor.

Rolling his eyes, Marcus stood an enforcing foot down on Noah's thigh again.

"Sit. Down."

And much like the Stray Dog, James had lost control over the distress in his eyes. "Elliot, stop," he demanded. "Don't do this. Don't you fucking dare."

I'll die knowing that I'm loved, I thought. That's all ever wanted.

"Please," I whispered. "Please close your eyes."

Noah shook his head, rebelling with his heartbroken stare, crying, pleading.

"Elliot, enough!" shouted James. I'd never seen him break like this before. "I won't let you do this. None of us are worth this kind of sacrifice; I can't—"

Midas cut James off with a hand over the mouth, silencing his protests with a heartless smirk.

I promised. "It's okay."

Noah held his bloodshot eyes on me for as long as he could, and each tear flooding from them was heavier than the last. Chest heaving, breaths wheezing, he studied my face like it was the first time he was seeing it—only now, he was seeing it for his last.

It's okay.

With a stifled cry, his eyes fluttered shut, stealing those golden irises away from me forever.

I exhaled a reaffirming breath.

Looking toward Midas, I didn't leave any room for hesitation. Brushing off James' pained expression and Han's shocked stare, I pushed the end of the revolver up into my chin. It was a show of defiance.

"Interesting choice," Midas remarked.

My reply was terse. "You said if I killed one, you'd let everyone else go free—but you never said you'd let me go with them. And I'd rather die than live a minute as your prisoner."

"I also never said suicide was an option."

"Maybe not, but I'm the best option." Grinding my teeth, I stated, "If I'm gone, you win. My death means that Han loses his only ally, James loses his first love, and Noah loses the only lifeline that keeps him going. Yes, they'll still be alive, but... all of them lose. You win."

From Noah's throat came another broken whine.

This is the only way I can keep you all safe.

"I can't argue with that logic." Satisfied, Midas decided, "Very well—you have a deal. Shoot that bullet into your skull, and I promise, all three of them will go free."

"No!" James got out, resisting his captor's brutish hand. "Please, Elliot, just—"

I cut him off. "Swear on it."

Midas toughened his grip on the face of a struggling James and chuckled. "I swear that I will let them all go. And in case you need more assurance, Marcus—" he turned to the gunman— "once Elliot's head hits the ground, no matter what I say or do, you're going to cut them all free. If I try to stop you, kill me."

Marcus took in the weight of those words, hesitating for a moment, yet soon nodding his head.

Midas asked me, "How's that?"

It's a promise I'll avenge in Hell if you break it.

Refusing to spare him another word, I swallowed tightly, forcing a shallow breath into my body. The racing of my heartbeat was a drum pounding in my ears and head. With a final look at Noah, I ended the onslaught of tears with closed eyes and aligned the weapon true.

I pulled the trigger.

For a moment, my entire life was blank. I saw naught. Thought of nobody. Remembered nothing.

And nothing at all happened.

Realizing I'd heard the click of the trigger and never a gunshot, anger exploded within every cell of my body. I pulled the trigger again. Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing.

Click-click-clickclickfuckiNGNOTHING.

"You're kidding me," Midas' infuriating voice rang out into the burning air. "What's wrong with it? Give the damn thing here."

This can't be happening. This can't be real. This ca—

I couldn't do anything to stop Midas before he snatched the revolver from my grasp. He pulled the trigger a few times; still, there was no reaction. Sobbing and shivering and crying frustrated tears, I made the mistake of glancing toward Noah.

His eyes were wide open now.

Beautiful, amber eyes, perfect in every way, warm and protective and safe and frightened and desperate and—

Midas cocked the revolver again. In the midst of my downward spiral, he'd cleaned out the chamber and replaced the jammed bullet with one that he'd plucked from his pocket.

"A squib load," Midas tsked disparagingly. "How unfortunate."

He lifted the weapon and pulled its trigger.

BANG!

My entire body recoiled at the explosion. Every goosebump in my body burst forth.

With all the blood sucked back into my heart, I followed Midas' aim with dizzied vision and hyperventilating gasps. My brain was on fire. My tears were acid.

"No!"

Staring. Shivering. Hollow.

Then I was screaming.

He'd shot Noah. He'd shot Noah. He'd shot Noah. Deep in Noah's right shoulder was Midas's bullet. Blood soaked his shirt—it'd splattered my skin. The color in his cheeks faded. His golden eyes were still looking at me but the life in them had vanished.

Noah wavered. Then, with a blink, he lost balance. His body hit the floor with a heavy thud. Back facing towards me, a scarlet pool started growing where his wound met the floor.

He wasn't moving.

Nobody spoke. Or maybe they did. I wouldn't have heard them.

Hitting the wall behind me, I scooped myself up in a heap, wailing and shrieking and shaking like I was trying to shed off my own skin. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. My stomach was in my mouth and my teeth were in my gums and my hair was so maddening I wanted to rip it all out.

I pulled at it. No. I scratched at my arms. No. I screamed and screamed and lost my voice, then screamed some more. No. No. No.

Whatever losing a limb felt like, this was it.

In my case, Noah was my heart, and Midas had just hacked out of my chest. Piece by bloody piece. Until I was empty. Until the only thing I wanted was the revolver back, so that I could beat myself to death with it, so that I could put myself out of my misery and join Noah wherever his soul had run off to. It should've been me. It should've been me.

Marcus' laughter faded into my surroundings. So did everything else. It overwhelmed me.

"Aw, what's the matter? No more bite in your bark?" With a smirk I wanted so desperately to shred apart, the redhead nudged Noah's shiftless body with the point of his shoe. "Yeah, that's right. Stay down, bitch."

A huff of air came from my right.

"Something funny, Han?" asked Midas.

There was nothing humorous to be found in the tone of Han's ragged voice. "None of us are leaving this ship alive," was all that he murmured.

He can't be dead.

Marcus scowled.

"Jesus Christ," he snapped at me, "knock it off already! All your sniveling is ruining the fucking moment."

It must be so hard for him to breathe. He must be so uncomfortable on the ground. I have to get him off this ship. Before it explodes. He'll be okay as long as we get off the ship. He'll be okay as long as we get off the ship. He'll be okay as long as we—

James stirred. Demanding Midas' attention, his hands clenched into fists.

"Let us go," he ordered. "You have to let us go. You got what you wanted—one of us is shot. That means the rest of us are free now. Isn't that what you said?"

Midas grinned. "What's the rush?"

"No, Midas—"

"I just thought of another game!" Stepping over Noah, the gangster talked cheerily in my direction. "Clearly, since I pulled the trigger and not you, Edge's death doesn't count. However, we still have two hostages left."

Gesturing to James and Han, Midas glowed.

"So many possibilities," he purred. Circling the space, he reached for an item resting on one of the nearby barrels. "Here, I know: you need a mask to get off this ship, don't you? With the smoke being toxic and all? It just so happens that I have a spare. You can take it—with a catch, of course."

My head shook. "No. No. No. I don't care. I d-don't want it. It doesn't, it doesn't, it doesn't m-matter anymore."

The ship's going to explode any second now. As long as I stay here, I'll die. As long as I stay here, I'll die. As long as I stay here, I'll die. I'll die with him. All of us will burn. All of us will die.

James pleaded, "Elliot, I know it hurts—but you need to think straight. Please."

"No, no, no..."

"Do you hear that?" Midas interjected. "The noise has stopped. If I had to wager, I'd say we're the last ones left alive on this ship." To me, he clarified, "And whilst Noah might be dead, James and Han can still be saved. So, it's up to you."

He gripped James and Han by the backs of their hair. A devilish smirk pointed his lips.

"Pick one to save," he suggested. "James or Han. Make the choice and I'll let you both go, with a mask to share. If the two of you are smart about it, perhaps you'll both still be lucky enough to make it out of here alive. How does that sound?"

I sobbed. "No... no..."

"He'll take your deal," James announced for me, shifting in his restraints. He leaned forward and spoke carefully. "Elliot, breathe."

And for whatever reason—by some unknown miracle perhaps—I tried. Not for nothing, I made a face, trying my best to pull in any scraps of spare oxygen. Each inhale scorched my throat, but I figured it was better than letting my head explode from the pressure of holding my breath.

Another game, I thought, haunted by the void-like silhouette of Noah's body in my peripherals. Play another game and somebody lives.

Somebody lives.

My eyes roamed from Midas to Han, then to James. I could pick between them. James or Han—one of them could still be saved. We could still get off this ship alive. One person saved was better than nobody.

But no matter who I choose, the other person is going to die.

"It's not over yet." In a soothing voice, James whispered, "Just breathe."

No matter who I pick, Noah burns.

"I can't choose," I stammered out. "I can't choose b-between your lives."

"And I can't watch you die here," he argued. The sheer amount of emotion in his voice stunned me silent. "Play the game."

Waiting patiently behind James' chair, Midas just stood and smiled, never once blinking, never once deviating his stare. He was the devil, I'd decided. He was evil in its purest form, and I wanted him to rot beneath my feet. I wanted to choke the life out of his eyes. I wanted him annihalated.

Can't do that if you're dead, said a little voice in the back of my brain. So think.

Blinking between James and Han, I finally understood. The only way to get one up on the devil? Beat him at his own game.

"Made your choice yet?" asked Midas.

Think, Elliot! Think think think—

It had to be James. Between them both, James mattered the most to me. I couldn't let Midas have him. He'd just be tortured again, controlled, exploited and blackmailed. James didn't deserve to live the rest of his life as Midas' servant, his obsession, his prisoner. I couldn't live if that happened because of me.

A distant memory invaded my mind. James might be the one person on this planet that Midas can't bring himself to kill.

My eyes widened.

"Han!" I shouted out at them.

James gawked at me. His expression was tainted with shock. "What?"

"I said, I pick Han."

"Wait, Elliot—"

Midas' cheeks split into a look of unbridled amazement. "You'd save this Stray Dog's worst enemy over the first man you ever loved? Hah, what a twist!" Tossing the gas mask to my feet, he laughed loudly. "Very well—Marcus, cut them loose. They're both free to go."

Following orders, Marcus bit back any passing remarks as he maneuvered around the room. While Han stared at me with disbelief in his complexion, the redhead sliced apart the ropes that bound Han to his place.

It's done.

"No," cried James, thrashing in his restraints. Fear marred his tone. "No, you can't leave me here. You can't leave me here with him! Elliot!"

Midas held his stomach as maniacal laughter came in ripples from his throat. He watched as Marcus came over to me next, finally cutting me loose from the binds that'd been digging into my bloodied flesh.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"A deal is a deal," said Midas with his Cheshire grin. He slung himself like fabric over James's bucking shoulders. "Mask is yours. Better run, both of you, while I'm still giving you the chance."

James fought; keening, sobbing. "No, please don't—"

Han picked up the gas mask for me. Moving to my side, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to follow.

"Come on!"

Tears spilled down my face. Being dragged behind him, I skipped over my own ankles, barely able to steal another look at Noah before Han was prying me out of the room.

No. No. No. No.

I squinted my focus into the smoky haze as Han shoved the mask over my mouth, strapping me in. It stank of cheap plastic, and I could taste its scent in my mouth. Compared to Han, who'd decided to hold his breath for me, I figured the mask was a luxury I couldn't complain about having.

"You see that, James?" Midas' voice echoed from the storage room, oblivious to the fact that I could still hear. "He knew it, your parents knew it—you can't be salvaged. You're mine."

I didn't know where I was going. Han was tugging me behind him like a sack of coal, and my only job was to not fall on the ground.

It was so hot.

A haze of purplish-red smoke stood between us and the exits. Then, between the exits and the flames, bodies. Between the flames and the horizon, more smoke. More death. More carnage. My body ached and my lungs heaved and my skin reddened with the heat of the fire—all of it was a reminder that I was still alive.

"We have to go back," I cried out, sobbing through the vents in the gas mask.

Han didn't answer; his mouth was buried into the crook of his elbow. Carving a path forward, he steered us as if he knew the ship down to each smear of grime. Avoiding the sight of writhing bodies and bloody corpses, I tried to drown out the wails around me, the shouting of people who were burning.

Soon, we reached a ladder. I assumed it let back up to the deck. Han gestured to it, waiting for me to go up first. I resisted.

"Han, please!" Through broken gasps, I tried to explain, "We can't just—we can't leave them. We have to—to get James, and Noah—"

Han's jaw clenched; he ignored my pleas and pushed me onward. Swallowing a cry, I used the pain in my body as a driver, slowly beginning to ascend the ladder. Han followed.

"We can't leave Noah," I repeated when we got to the top. "We need to go... to get his b-body. I need—we need to go back for him! Please!"

Han waited for me to take a deep breath before he took the mask off my face. Rather than hold onto it, he brought it to his lips and inhaled as much filtered air as he could. After that, he returned the mask to me. His jaw clenched. Then we ran.

"Where are we going?" Trying to keep up on legs that weren't cooperating, I hissed from the sting of tears burning my skin. "Please, just stop! We can't leave them! James is still—Han, listen to me!"

No dice. Looking left and right, he squinted his gaze, working out our next move.

"I won't l-leave them! I'm begging you, please, just—"

He grabbed my arm again. Pushed me. Stumbling forward, my back hit a metal railing of some kind, and I realized we'd reached the edge of the ship. The rest of our exits were blocked by boxes, bodies, or burning debris. All we could do now was retrace our steps and look for a new path.

"Han—"

He brushed a hand through his hair. Ruminated. Strategised. He's stopped. Terror swallowed me up as I panicked, thinking, Why have we stopped?

Heart pounding wildly, I managed, "What do you think you're doing?"

His bloody hand struck out at that moment. Ripping the mask off my face, he stepped forward, backing me into the railing as much as he could. The gas mask covered his mouth. He sucked in another breath. Every muscle in his body tensed, and his all-consuming shadow enveloped me completely.

He's going to push me overboard.

"No," I rasped, looking in panic to the water. "No, wait. Please don't do this. Please."

Han spoke. "See you on the other side."

"Wait, no, d-don't—!"

Iron hands pushed into my chest, and the force lurched me backward. My feet left the floor. All the air escaped my lungs in a violent, sudden rush.

My world faded into nothingness—and the last thing I remembered was falling.

=||A/N||=

Ending the year with a bang?