Euan’s voice was soft. ‘I’ll find you, I swear it.’
The kiss that came next was desperate. It was aggressive and terrible. They tore and bit at each other’s faces. Their hands pulled at their clothes, their skin, Nick’s hair. Both of their cheeks were wet, from whose tears, it didn’t matter.
After a moment that was both too long and too short, Nick pulled back and stood up on weak knees. The iron taste of Euan’s blood was on his tongue. He licked his lips and savoured the reminder of their humanity.
‘Follow the tree line. There’s a lake, smooth as glass beside a cliff face. If they’re there, they’ll find you.’
Euan nodded, struggled to his feet. It was then that Nick saw the truth behind Euan’s steady agreement to separate. He could hardly walk. The damage he’d done in his attempt to save Kira had ruined him. Nick’s throat finally closed, locked down, clogged with too much emotion, too much sorrow. Jesus. The weight on his shoulders so heavy he stumbled.
Euan was there to hold him up. Hands as large as his courage took his shoulders into his grip and pulled Nick to his chest. The scent of sweat and man, wood smoke and earth. Euan. It surrounded him, enveloped him and he was lost, so fucking lost. He couldn’t do it.
‘Shh, kid. You have to, you must. She needs you.’
He must have spoken his fears aloud. ‘Not without you.’
Words were in his ear. ‘You’ve done the impossible before. You’ll do it again. I trust you, believe in you. You’ve got this. Feel me?’
Nick’s hands gripped fabric. The hold he had on the man brought pain to both his arm and his soul. ‘Fuck, I love you.’
Euan only nodded against Nick’s hair. Nick understood it was all he could do.
Breath eased, the tension in their hug lessoned. Euan was the first to move. ‘Take this.’
In his hand was the picture Kira had given to Euan as they had fled from the house and the bunker. The sketch that had been placed beside Nick’s head the morning Euan had left them to seek vengeance. A faded image drawn in lead of himself and the missing half of their hearts. ‘I can’t.’
Euan’s swallow was audible. ‘Give it to her when you see her, she’ll want it. I know she will.’
The paper was brittle, the edges stained brown. He took the picture, put it in a pocket close to his heart. It was all he could do.
Packs were retrieved and shouldered, wounds were tended, weapons were palmed, triggers were stroked. Their eyes were hard, but their hearts were breaking. Each step that disconnected them further destroyed what was left in his chest. Nick’s heart shattered, the remnants shrivelled and turned to dust.
When Euan’s broad shoulders disappeared into the trees, Nick clenched his jaw until his teeth ached.
He swallowed all the emotion, the fear, the worry, the panic. He packed the feelings inside himself, chained the door to the cellar closed and threw away the key. There was no opportunity for sentiment now. He had to save Kira. He had to find Euan. After that, he didn’t think.
He couldn’t.
Chapter 15
Euan
Bravery was a concept that defined a man. It was an attribute that required forethought, courage, determination. It necessitated grit, the ability to take risks, gamble on an innate drive. It relied on a stout heart, a valiant soul, and an astute mind.
That was Nick.
It always had been Nick.
From the moment Euan had witnessed that blond, green-eyed man dash through the dust in the refugee camp built for the damned, he’d known, felt, saw the bravery that resided inside that beautiful man’s soul. He was fearless, gallant. Perfect.
He was perfect.
Always had been, always would be.
His steps had been sure, his pace swift. In moments, Nick had disappeared down a black pathway that pointed towards the entrance to the underworld.
Euan had been at this crossroads before. He’d been at the point to envision the two pathways to judge. Twice in his life, he had stared down the fork in the road and evaluated the outcomes, the probabilities of success.
In the first, surrounded by the devastation and the evidence of Nick’s torture, he had decided not to pursue the attackers that had brutalised the man he loved. It was a decision that he still questioned. Nick had needed him, yes, but the thirst for retribution had been great. If he had chased those bastards down, killed them, destroyed them, would they even be here?
But he would not have found Kira. Without her, he would not have been able to stitch the pieces of Nick’s soul back together.
The second had almost caused his death. He had stared at a starry night’s sky and sworn to save humanity. He had given an oath as a skinny boy had huddled into him for warmth, and a silent woman had slept in the dirt. He had stared into the eyes of fate and said that he would save what was left of the world.
Instead, he had suffered torture, loss. A heartache and a guilt that would never abate. That was the outcome. Michael Rodgers had been killed, a bullet in his brain had sent him to his maker, but it had been by Nick’s finger that had pulled that trigger while he’d been strung up on a meat hook to be butchered.
He had been. Butchered, maimed, tormented. The pain that still swamped his feet was proof of it.
Now again, he faced a choice. A choice to crumble and succumb to his wounds? To find an army and be an apathetic member. To be part of the pack, a sheep waiting for instruction?
To maybe take the chance again, and rule what was left of the world?
Or, he could be the fucking monster to take
