Yes, Mr. Demon Boy? (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Seventeen

Then, in that moment, that was the first time I killed someone.

He wavered, his body falling along with his grip on the dagger. Everything was slow. The movement of the blade as he let go of it so it cut even deeper into Mason’s skin before tumbling to the ground, the clattering of steel drowned out by Mason’s agonizing screams. I couldn’t even pay attention to the man as he fell dead, only on the contorting of Mason’s face as he writhed with pain.

I so badly wanted to run—to sprint—over to him, to wrap him up in my arms and carry him to safety or somewhere better then here, and I was about to if it wasn’t for the sneering orange-eyed freak that blocked my path.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS SAM?!” I shouted, pissed off at the world and at myself and at my rapidly beating heart and my gorgeous bleeding best friend and my overwhelming desire to kill someone else.

“He’s the one who kidnapped Mase,” Sam breathed out, his voice surprisingly calm for the situation. I heard myself growl, anger forming deep within the pit of my stomach as I subconsciously cocked the other revolver, pointing it at the now clearly frightened kidnapper. “DON’T!” Sam yelled from next to me, finally getting to his feet. “He’s the only family Damien has, Casp!”

I didn’t even flinch before I killed him. I put a bullet right between his eyes.

“And Mason’s the only family I have.”

So I leaped over the limp body of the writhing maniac, finally gaining access to Mason who was now curled up on the floor choking up what little blood he had left in him. I skidded to a stop, and threw myself on the floor next to him as I pulled him into my lap with my trembling arms. My fingers shook and my heart rate was unworldly as I clamped my hands over the slice in his neck, desperately, hopelessly trying to stop the bleeding.

“No, no, no, Mase,” I pleaded, his head nodding off into my arm as he couldn’t keep it up any longer, his strength decreasing by the second. “Please, please Mase, please.”

Quickly I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of Sam, hoping he would have something, anything to help me.

But he was too busy staring at Damien, tears in his eyes as he shook his head in disappointment.

“How the fuck could you?” he asked, his lip wobbling, his voice breaking, and tears streaming.

Damien took a deep breath. “I can ex—“

“NO,” Sam cut him off, a sharp edge to his tone I could never summon in that state. “You better not fucking finish that sentence or I swear I will shoot you more times then you can count.”

And that was when I noticed the revolver in his hand. I guess I had dropped both of them as soon as Damien’s brother died.

“Sam,” I begged, my own voice cracking as I glanced back down at the immense loss of blood. “I need help.”

As he glanced at the blood pooling on the floor, and at the blood squirting through my hands, he realized the reality of the situation and quickly stood up in what we called his “beta stance.” Rapidly he dried his tears on the back of his hands, tossed the revolver as far away from Damien as he could, then proceeded to rip off his t-shirt and toss it at me, demanding me to wrap it around his neck.

I did so, with shaking hands, as Sam hurried up to us, grabbing Mase from my lap as soon as I finished and slung him over his shoulder.

“CAREFULLY!” I scolded him, one hand on Mason’s back as I followed Sam through the steel doors, making sure to grab the revolvers on the way out.