Page 87 of Violent Skies

“There’s my Birdie baby,” he chuckles.

But she doesn’t back down; she cocks her head to the side. “Murphy go get the blood, it’s in the back seat.”

Murphy moves instantly as Rafe follows his circle, watching his brother’s back in case there’s a surprise waiting outside the garage doors. No one says a word and Murphy returns seconds later, his hair plastered to his face, his glasses covered in water, but there’s a cooler in his hands and he rushes it toward me. His head whips briefly to Koa, as if he still can’t believe he’s standing there, but he’s not as vocal as his siblings. His brain works through the surprise logically, quietly, mathematically.

I don’t wait for Birdie to tell me what needs to be done. I hook the blood into the messy IV that I barely got into Riggs in the first place and start the flow. Please work. His chest rises and falls in a choppy, barely-there sort of way, and it worries me more than Koa standing ten feet away watching my every move.

Once I know he’s taking in the fresh blood my fingers find the pulse in his limp wrist, pinching there to feel it pump weakly. But also just to feel the warmth return to his skin. Come on Riggs. You aren’t allowed to leave us yet. I clench my jaw, trying not to cry as we take turns forcing answers out of a ghost.

“How?” Rafe asks between a crash of lightning and a rumble of thunder.

“Semantics,” Koa hums. The smile on his face is bright and amused with our painful confusion.

“Why?” Birdie snaps, finally asking the right question.

“Because I could,” he whispers darkly. “I wanted more. I got bored.”

“That’s it? You got bored?” Birdie growls, her rage growing by the second.

“This place could have been something, but Riggs just wanted to drag his feet, keep it in the family. I wanted to grow our family.” Koa talks about him like he’s already dead. “He strangled you all into submission with his rules and you let him. I was watching all my hard work die under his boot.”

Riggs is still asleep. His body is warmer, his pulse stronger but… he refuses to open his eyes no matter how much I beg him.

“I can’t take care of them,” I admit to him whether or not he can hear it. “Not the way you do. You think they need a mother, but they don’t. They never have. They need you,” I whisper. “Not me, not Koa.” My eyes flick up to where he watches me. I work really hard not to cry. It feels like all I’ve been doing lately is crying. So I inhale slowly, filling my lungs, and exhale even slower. The gum in my mouth is losing its flavor but I continue to chew it, refusing to reach for another piece if it means straying too far from Riggs.

“Please,” I beg, swallowing the nausea.

The silence seems to stretch impossibly before someone speaks again.

“You’re Malosi,” Murphy huffs, his voice almost a shock.

“My smart boy,” Koa hums with pride. “I’m a little disappointed it took you this long.”

“Power.” Jesse gives weight to the name.

“He’s a good replacement, looks just like me.” Koa laughs without humor in his voice. “Malosi is the name, together we grow and give meaning to it.” He sounds like a cult leader and it turns my blood cold. My eyes run over him, drinking him in again, seeking out my Koa, but instead I find a new tattoo on his neck, straight down the center below his chin, the tip brushes the hollow of his throat. It’s the spear.

“You sent those men to kill me?” I whisper, coming from around the work bench, stepping away from Riggs’s unconscious body as my fingers subconsciously roll over my throat where his tattoo is.

“No.” Koa shakes his head, his voice softening. “No, beautiful, I came to see you.”

The lightning flashes and I see him standing at the end of my bed, watching me sleep.

“I waited so long to do it, missed you so much,” he whispers, his feet shifting on the floor, and Birdie reminds him that she has a gun with a small tut from her lips. He chuckles again, nodding and steps back a little. “I thought you’d miss me too but…” his hand reaches into his pocket and he flicks something to the floor. “Same old Cress.”

The crumpled foil heart falls to the floor around the mud and blood that pool in droplets there. My eyes lock onto it. I had found it that night. I was taking out old text books to list them for sale and it fell out of the back. I cried for hours, then got pissed off and cried at that for so long I fell asleep. It must have been in my hand.

“I’m curious. What does that one say?” Koa snaps when I don’t move to grab it.

I walk forward and the breeze carries that familiar spicy scent to my nose as I bend over and pick it up. I unfold it, my eyes on Koa as I do.

You’re smarter than all of this.

I almost cry at the words. It's not what I was expecting and I can’t even think of a reason why he would write such a thing, but it’s exactly what I need to hear.

“So?” Koa asks.

“It says ‘you’re pretty’,” I lie and Koa’s eyes narrow at me. “It’s a little childish if you ask me, being worked up over some little gum wrapper hearts.”