He snapped his darkened gaze to Nate. “This is why you told me to go after her?”
Nate’s breathing turned choppy behind me, his hands firm on my shoulders, trying to pull me back, but I refused.
Julian’s eyes found mine, the gun still aimed at his brother. “This is why you married me?” He shook with head with disgust. “Because he didn’t choose you. I was your goddamn consolation prize.”
My throat swelled with fear. “That’s not what happened.”
“He’s my brother. You fucking whore. I loved you!” Julian screeched.
I deserved all his hatred and his rage.
“Julian . . . brother, please put the gun down.” Nate tried to plead with him, but his finger continued to hold steady on the trigger.
“Please,” I begged, choking back a cry. “We can talk.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“No.” Julian’s eyes were cold, the hazel hue replaced with a darkness I’d never seen before. “You. Don’t. Deserve. To live.” His slow, harsh words were no match for the way he closed his eyes. Every moment felt like hours, but was merely seconds as his finger pulled back on the trigger.
A cold shiver stretched down my spine, the fear ricocheted inside my soul.
“No!” Nate’s scream pierced my ears before the loud bang of a gunshot barreled through me, deafening all other sounds but its hiss.
I closed my eyes. My knees hit the floor first as my body fell. I blindly clutched at my chest, gasping for air as I waited for the pain.
But there wasn’t any.
I wasn’t hit.
My pulse raced, giving me a sign I was still alive. I’d been shoved.
My head snapped to the side, and it was then I noticed Nate’s lifeless body lying on the floor. Surrounded by a pool of blood.
“Nate!” I crawled to his side. Bright red stained his button down shirt. Julian had shot him in the chest. “Oh, my God!” I screamed. With shaky hands, I pressed my palms as hard as I could to his wounded flesh. “Stay with me.” Tears blurred my vision, but I could still make out the green of his eyes. He was trying to keep his lids open. “Stay with me, okay?”
But this wasn’t over. Julian still had a gun. The hair on my neck stood on end. Petrified, I dared a glance up at Julian.
He was feet away, banging the gun against his forehead. “No, no, no!”
Nate coughed, and I applied more pressure to the wound. “Don’t die, I sobbed. “Please!” Nate blinked slowly up at me. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, but the garbled sounds of blood gurgling in his throat overtook his words.
My sobs shook my body like an earthquake, making it harder to keep pressure on his weakening chest.
“You weren’t supposed to move, damn you!” Julian paced the floor, cursing under his breath.
“Julian, please. Call nine-one-one. You have to help him!” Nate’s warm blood oozed through my fingers.
He pointed the barrel of the gun in my face within seconds. “Don’t talk to me!” he shouted. “This is your fault! He was my brother! You were supposed to die! You!”
He was right. I was. “I know.” I nodded. “I’m so sorry. Please.” My voice shook with fear, anger, and hatred for myself. “Please call for an ambulance and then . . . I paused, glancing down at my dying love, and then back at Julian. “And then you can kill me.” I felt Nate’s weak grip on my leg.
I cried looking at his fearful face. “Don’t die,” I whispered. “Please.”
“You never loved me.” Julian’s nostrils flared. “I was never the one you wanted.” His hand trembled and his finger danced around the trigger again.
“Please, Julian,” I pleaded. “Call for help. If you do that, you can kill me. Just please, for your brother, call for help.”
Nate coughed one more time, but the way the blood spurted from his mouth told me it was his last time. His eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness.
“No, no, no!” I pounded on his chest. I wanted to give him CPR, but all I could do was swim in my own thoughts. This was all my fault.
Guilt.
Remorse.
Sorrow.
Each emotion crashed into me like a bullet from Julian's gun.
“No!” Julian held the gun in my direction. “You made me kill my brother, and now you need to pay for that.”
I nodded. There was nothing left for me. If Nate died, this world would be as empty as I felt right now. This had been my fault from the very beginning. I closed my eyes, my hands clutching Nate, anticipating when the bullet would enter my body. When I would no longer be able to hold the pressure on his still chest. When his heart would stop beating under my palms.