Violet Path (47 page)
And then I felt a huge weight pulling me back.
I opened my eyes to see Matthew staggering, a dagger embedded deep into his stomach. He gasped for air as his chest expanded and deflated frantically.
Maxime pulled me up, and I leaned against him, absorbing his warm embrace. My eyes leaked with joy. I couldn’t believe he was holding me.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. We didn’t have the means. Matthew quadrupled his security, and we lost almost all our allies. We needed the time to get more soldiers, weapons, and plan. I’m so sorry, I . . .” Maxime gave up apologizing and started to tug at the rope at my hands, but to no avail. He pulled my arms over his head and set them around his neck. He kissed me passionately and the world around us dissolved into nothingness. My eyes were closed, trapping the memory inside, while he ran his hand along my neck, warming me. My tears drenched us, streaming down my cheeks. There was no life without him.
And then a gunshot.
My abdomen caved in.
Maxime crashed into me—the bullet had passed through both of us.
We fell.
I coughed, suffocating and trembling, going cold. My heart was a hummingbird fluttering desperately. I looked over at Maxime, but he lay motionless. I pulled myself toward him and tried to wake him, nudging him while our blood stained the snow.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t respond.
I sank in the snow and collapsed, whispering his name, calling for him to wake up.
I felt dismembered.
I glanced behind to see Matthew holding the smoking gun in his hands. He slowly pulled himself toward us, holding his abdomen and leaving a red trail behind him.
“Please, Maxime,” I whispered. “Come back to me.”
Matthew crept closer.
“Please, Maxime. I love you . . .”
I gently took his cold hand and kissed his scar.
Matthew dragged himself to my side. He glared at me with his icy, violet eyes. I couldn’t speak or move. I couldn’t protect or defend, not even beg.
He raised his gun, and I stared down the barrel.
“Goodbye, Maxime,” I whispered.
Matthew pulled the trigger.
My eyes blinked as the bullet pierced through me, and I let go of everything.
Three Months Later
The sharp light burned through my eyelids, pulling me out of a trance. A mask covered my nose and mouth, supplying me with oxygen while my lungs expanded and deflated painfully, as though a weight pressed on my ribcage. I didn’t even try to sit up or move; I knew it wasn’t possible. My eyes wandered around the white room. Metal cabinets lined the walls. Needles were rooted under my skin and hooked up to bags full of different liquids. Thick covers enveloped me tightly, almost like a straightjacket, keeping me still. A steady rhythm rang in the air recording my heartbeat. The fowl stench of alcohol and antiseptics made me nauseous. I wanted to see someone, anyone. Maxime—I needed to see him. I needed to touch him.
Megan came running in dressed in a white lab coat and rushed to my side. I motioned for her to remove the mask so I could communicate, but it hurt too much for me to move. Breathing was already a challenge.
“I can’t believe you made it! How are you feeling? You’ll have to stay here for sometime, seriously for once.” She placed her gentle hand on my shoulder to comfort me, but avoided my eyes.
“How’s Maxime? Andrew? Where is he?” I barely muttered. Megan diverted her gaze. I needed to see him. He had to be nearby.
“You need to understand a few things first—” she said.
“Where is Maxime?” I interrupted.
“I’ll answer after you listen to what I have to say. Let me finish,” Megan snapped. I remained silent as my heart shriveled, withering away. “You’ll take time to recover. I’m dead serious this time, no wandering off or talking anyone into letting you out of here.” She paused and looked away.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She nervously fiddled with her fingers. “Alex . . . you need to understand. I–I don’t know how to say this . . .”
The heart monitor beeped furiously, racing. I wasn’t prepared for bad news. I needed to know if Maxime was alive. “Please just tell me,” I said weakly.
She took a deep breath. “You had a heart transplant, and it’s a miracle you made it. I know it may bother you, but it was the only option we had, so we took . . . Matthew’s heart. I’m sorry, but he was the only one Sam knew could be a donor, and we had very limited time.”
The world stood still.
Megan’s voice slowly faded as time slowed. Then the heart monitor beeped and beeped and beeped, bringing me back to the realization that my heart was pumping, that Matthew’s heart was pumping . . .
“To be honest,” Megan continued, “I didn’t think you would survive, but Sam got to you just in time. You are by far the luckiest person I know. We healed all of your minor injuries, and had to give you a knee replacement. It’ll take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t feel too different. So for the time being, you’re stuck here. As for the weird surgeries you had at H.S.H.S., we couldn’t do anything about those. I’m sorry. It’s been almost three months since the battle, and you spent it in a coma. You’re at Aliss right now, which isn’t far from where Jarva used to be. Sam wanted to see you as soon as you were awake, so I’ll call for him.”
Megan started to leave, but I caught her hand. “Maxime?” I asked faintly, still hoping for the best.
“You need to understand that we’re doing everything we can. He’s not conscious yet and probably never will be. I’m really sorry. We’re still trying to—”
“He’ll pull through,” I told her, mostly to reassure myself as her words strangled me.
“Alex, you need to be realistic. I don’t mean to hurt you, but we don’t think he will pull through. He’s in intensive care and is not getting any better. I’m really sorry, but I don’t want to give you false hope. You need to—”
“No! He’ll be all right! I’m awake. I’m here, and I had a heart transplant and knee replacement after being shot multiple times. He’ll be fine!” I was desperate for hope. It was all I had, but it was shallow. Inside, I knew I was only dreaming, fantasizing as I choked on my own words, but it was all I had to hold onto.
“Yes, you endured more and surprisingly survived, but you’re very lucky, and you need to understand that. He may not be. He also has the program to fight against, and killing Matthew probably only made that worse. His mind is frozen, like a computer freezes when a program cannot be followed through. It’s complicated, and I don’t understand all of it. I’m hoping I’m wrong, but we need to be realistic. You’re a miracle; he’s cursed. If he does wake up, you’ll be the first to know, I promise. I’m really sorry. I’ll get Sam.” Megan left before I could respond.
The door shut with the sound resonating in the room. I could feel my heart—Matthew’s heart—being pulled and torn apart. He was inside of me, pumping blood through my veins to keep me alive. Even dead and gone, he was still a part of my life, and I hated him. I hated myself.
I was alone and would wait. I needed Maxime.
I placed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart pumping.
I loved Maxime and couldn’t let him go.
With Matthew gone, everyone—including Alexia—believes the Long War has ended. H.S.H.S. may be destroyed and Matthew may be dead, but the bloody world of terror he created still lingers.
Alexia continues the struggle to put an end to the chaos, while Maxime, still unconscious, fights for his life. To protect everyone she cares for, Alexia makes deals with dangerous crowds that cost her more than she could anticipate. Her archives—her recorded memories—are used against her by those controlling her, and Sam can’t protect her forever. She takes interest in her forgotten and unknown childhood, but as she digs deeper into the past, she discovers disturbing truths that cannot be ignored.
As the mutations induced by the surgeries that took place at H.S.H.S. under Matthew’s bidding rise to the surface, Alexia starts to lose herself. She cannot control her abilities, and while some do more harm than good, her newfound skills are what’s keeping her alive.
