Page 115 of Fight for You

He strides toward me, his boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. "Kincaid, what ha–?"

As soon as my name leaves his lips, I'm out of my seat. Chairs are kicked around and crash to the floor when I grab him by the throat and shove him up against the wall. All the rage I've been trying to find all night crashes down on me. I can't see through the haze of red it leaves behind. I can't think through it.

I don't want to think through it anyway. I desperately want to stop thinking for five minutes.

"Kincaid, goddammit, let him go," Roman demands, trying to pry me off Hernandez.

"You were supposed to be looking for him!" I yell at Hernandez, shaking off Roman's grip. "Goddamn you, Octavio. Where the fuck were you?"

He doesn't say anything. The red haze slowly creeps back, allowing me to actually see him. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised it hasn't shattered. Anger pulses in the depths of his eyes. His body is rigid with tension. He's got his hands up, trying to show he's not a threat, but I can see in his eyes that he wants to fight back.

I wish he would. I wish he'd knock my stupid ass out because I'm in hell, and every single minute without news hurts worse than the last.

"He shot her. He fucking shot her." The words break from my lips in a desperate crack of sound that leaves my throat feeling like it's bleeding. My grip on Hernandez loosens. My knees buckle a split second later. This time, there's no one to catch me.

I crash to the floor as the dam breaks wide open. Pain hits like an explosion, detonating again and again inside my skin. I fall the fuck apart at Hernandez's feet.

I don't care if the cops in the waiting room with me witness it. I don't even care if I survive it. She was so small and so still in my arms. Her blood was all over me, just like Titan's. It was warm on my hands, so goddamn warm. And her skin was so cold and pale.

How's she supposed to breathe when her blood is all over me and she's cold?

"She wasn't breathing," I gasp, planting my fist against the floor to keep myself from collapsing into a ball right there. "They took her from me, and she wasn't fucking breathing."

"Jesus Christ," someone whispers, but I don't know who.

"I traded myself for her. He was supposed to kill me, not her. Why did he shoot her?"

Fuck. Why'd she come back for me? Why didn't she just fucking listen for once in her life and run like I told her to? She was out of there. All she had to do was keep running, but she didn't.

I swore that I wouldn't destroy her this time. I swore that I'd keep her safe, and she wasn't fucking breathing.

"If she dies, someone is going to have to kill me. If they don't, I don't know what I'll do. I can't kill Kaleo. He's already dead. January killed the motherfucker for me. I'll tear this fucking city apart until someone puts a bullet in me."

January thinks I'm not a monster, but she's wrong. She's the only thing that ever kept me from giving in to the rage and hatred that gnashes and claws inside me incessantly. If she dies…if they can't bring her back…I'll dismantle every fucking gang in this city with my bare hands until someone puts a bullet in me. It's the only way I'll stop.

"Don't you dare say that," someone snaps, but it's not one of the cops in the room. It's Mariah, glaring at me with her hands on her hips, tears on her cheeks, and fire in her eyes.

"It's true," I mumble, though I didn't actually mean to say any of that shit out loud. Didn't realize my lips were even moving. It's true, though. Guys like me live and die by the sword. It's what we know. It's what we're good at. And without January, it's the only fucking thing I have left.

"She's not going to die, and neither are you," Mariah growls at me. "She came back for you because she loves you. Jesus Christ, Michael. She tried to kill herself last week, but then she thought about you, and she couldn't go through with it. Every damn time she's wanted to die over the years, she's thought about you. So don't you dare give up on her now."

January tried to kill herself? What the fuck? Why didn't anyone tell me?

"She…what?"

Hernandez steps away from the wall like he's trying to give us space. Roman and Santiago take up positions around me and Mariah, blocking us in to give us a little bit of privacy from the rest of the room.

"I found her in the bathroom the day you told her what happened with Titan," Mariah whispers as more tears spill down her cheeks, leaving behind a trail of mascara. She doesn't bother wiping it away, not even when it drips off her chin and lands in inky black splotches on her white t-shirt. "There was blood all over the place where she hit her head. I thought she was dead. She told me she thought about it, that she tried to take a bottle of pills, but that she couldn't go through with it."

"Fuck me," I groan, another shot of pain piercing my already mangled heart. My girl went through that alone, and I didn't fucking know. I never should have told her about Titan. "I should have been there. It was my fault."

"Bullshit," Mariah snaps, still pissed and crying. "You blame yourself, and January blames herself, but neither of you is responsible for what happened then, and you aren't responsible for her feeling like that now either. Titan loved both of you. He made a stupid decision because he was Titan, and no one told Titan what to do. He went to Kaleo on his own, and then Kaleo manipulated him into a shitty situation. That's not on you. It's not on January. It's on the Diablos who killed him. It's on Kaleo. They're the reason Titan and Ms. Jana are dead. Not January. Not you. It's not her fault she survived, and they didn't. It's not your fault that you survived either, Michael."

I open my mouth and then close it, unable to force out sound as the truth in her words hits me hard.

I think…I think she's right. We survived, and they didn't. That's why we feel so goddamn guilty.

We were happy and we didn't realize how bad things were for Titan, and we've been punishing ourselves for it ever since. We both feel so fucking guilty for being young and in love. We both feel so goddamn awful for not being able to predict the future.