Page 79 of Primal

I drop the gun and throw myself at Braken, squeezing his neck hard to bring him back from the darkness. He tries to fight me, but I hold steady, using what strength I possess to pry him off of Marco. Braken grabs onto my arms and squeezes so tightly I hiss. But I still don’t let go, even when Braken shoulders me to try and get me off.

“Let go, Fiora,” he growls. “I’m going to fucking kill him. He’s dead.”

“You can’t.”

“He put his fucking hands on you!” Braken rages. His face is marred by bruises and blood, his normally perfect hair a blend of dirt and sweat. “He killed your goddamn brother. He doesn’t deserve mercy.”

“He doesn’t, but you do.”

My subdued answer quiets him. He pulls back enough so he can regard me with narrowed eyes. Below him, Marco grunts but barely moves.

“Our story won’t hold up if you’re the one who kills him.” I squeeze Braken’s shoulders in reassurance. “I don’t want this pinned on you.”

“Our story, huh?” Braken tries to smirk, but it looks more like a grimace. “You’re already thinking that far ahead?”

“We need to be.”

I look down at Marco. Sad, pathetic Marco who thought he had the upper hand. Who used me for my connections like everyone else when I thought he was different. Toyed with my emotions just to go behind my back and kill my brother. The one who planned to end my life here today under the guise of suicide.

Why not give him a taste of his own medicine?

“He’s going to kill himself from grief,” I say. Braken narrows his eyes but he doesn’t say anything. “He asked to meet me and kidnapped me. Brought me here against my will, but I fought back. You showed up to save me?—”

“Me and Jasper showed up to save you.” Braken exhales and glances back at his fallen man. “One of the best men I had.”

“We’ll give him a proper burial.” I brush a lock of hair from Braken’s eyes and offer a soft smile. “Something fit for a king.”

Braken grabs my hand and squeezes. His touch is cold from the leather gloves and makes me shiver. “He’d hate that. Always loved deep sea fishing.”

“An at-sea burial then,” I promise and take a breath. “After Marco shot Jasper, you exchanged words, some blows… and when he realized it was all over and he could never have me… he jumped.”

It’s true enough. It will also explain all our injuries and why our blood is everywhere in the parking garage. It also explains why there’s a dead man near our feet.

Braken doesn’t respond to the end of our joint story. He holds my gaze for a long, calculating moment before he grabs Marco’s collar. He drags Marco’s near-lifeless body over to theedge of the parking garage, right where I recently stood and contemplated my death. Marco doesn’t put up a fight at all. His eyes are swollen shut, and his entire face is black, blue, and bloody.

I get one last good look at Marco, the man I used to love, now battered, bruised, and bound for Hell.

Braken stands him up, faces him outward, and throws him off the side of the building.

“Look away,” he tells me. “I don’t want you to see this.”

I don’t. I want to see. I want to face the demon head on.

The thud of Marco’s body on the gravel and pipes below makes me cringe. Even without being nearly beaten to death, there’s no way he could survive that five-story fall. I don’t need to check to know Marco is gone.

Whatever adrenaline kept me upright disappears, and I fall onto my aching knees, letting out a long breath. I stare at my trembling hands that are covered in dirt, blood, and bruises. Not even two hours ago, I held onto Marco and prepared myself to let him go. But not like this. I only meant to cut him off, not see him killed. It’s his own doing, but for some reason, my heart still thunders pathetically.

A rugged, leather-covered hand covers mine and squeezes. Braken bends down in front of me and brings a cold leather glove to my face.

“Are you okay?”

His question snaps me back to reality. I cling to his wrist, checking him all over for any further injuries.

“Are you okay? Marco shot you!”

“Grazed my arm.” Braken motions down to a jagged cut in the fabric of his coat. “Stings like a bitch, but I’m fine.”

“You know how to make a girl worry, you know,” I tease half-heartedly. It feels wrong to joke when I’m sitting in someone’sdrying pool of blood. “Do you think the police will take Mason’s death seriously now?”