Behind the Walls. NOVEL By Claire Darcy.

75. A Gift for the Storm.

ACE.

I could feel President X trembling in anger and fear. "If your finger so much as twitches, Ace will be dead, before your bullet even reaches me."

"You need her alive," purred Rowan.

The President's grip on my throat grew tighter, chains of unyielding fury. "I need me alive," hissed the President, her voice warbling with fear. She looked at Rowan, and for the first time- she could see him. No longer was he a boy, weak and cowering and obeying her every command.
Now, he was an animal. Wild and dangerous and full of anger and justice. One of us.

"Then you better let her go," said Rowan, his voice dangerously soft. President X held firm.

"Rowan," Josh whispered, warned, calling his fiery gaze to me. "Ace."

He looked at me with teary eyes, and Rowan's gaze followed his line of sight. Tyler's sobs had not ceased. I didn't know what Josh was trying to say, I didn't know what his whispers meant. But Rowan's eyes glimmered, not with anger but with fear. Hesitance.

"There now," said the President in strained voice, "Lower your weapon, son."

A tremor ran through Rowan's arm, but he didn't move. His face was a mask of solid resolve, hiding any emotion, any doubt. Red was creeping in around my vision. Darkness beckoned me with a warm caress at the back of my mind. Let go, it called, close your eyes.

I fought against the whorls of mist that whispered against my skin, straining to hold onto my bearings, to hold my focus on the living.

Rowan had a gun pointed at the President. The President had a gun pointed at me. If Rowan shot, the President would die. If Rowan shot, the President would shoot me, too.

But that didn't matter, did it? Because this wasn't about me.

This was about a boy with a wary smirk and sea-green eyes, one who hid behind snark and leather jackets and shadowy corners.

The rebellion didn't depend solely on one person; it didn't depend on me. It was an idea, a flame that had already been kindled. I had played my part.

"Shoot," I croaked, and Rowan's eyes darted to mine. I was too quiet. He hadn't heard what I'd said. "Shoot, Rowan," I whispered, "Please. Shoot now and end this."

The President had to die. She had to be gone. The darkness and the pain and the horror couldn't go on. I was a small price to pay.

"Ace," whispered Josh. A small sob escaped him. My visions blurred and I blinked, lights splashing across my eyes like poisoned lightning. The light was already so dim. The crying was already so quiet.

"Shoot," I breathed again.

If he shot, I would die.

It's alright, beckoned that deep darkness, it's not going to hurt.

I wasn't breathing. My body was already numb, my soul already still. Dead.

Memories, cooed that darkness, a gift for the girl with a heart of flames. A parting gift.

...

I could hear my brother's laughter as he teased me.

"Don't be such a baby," he snorted. I tickled him and he hooted with laughter he couldn't contain. I saw my mother's kind smile.

"Soon," she whispered, not with her voice, but the voice of that great darkness that beckoned me ever deeper, "The pain will be gone soon."

Evelyn kissed my hair and promised me that I'd be okay. Her eyes were dark but hopeful. For a moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of light as a circlet upon her head- a halo. With a swirl of shadow, it was gone.