There's a shot.

A blood-curdling beep buzzing in my ears.

Another shot.

The beep is becoming even louder.

There are several shots from all around me, the beep in my ears becoming almost deafening. I press my hands onto my ears, as if that will fix something. There are distant voices, but one of them is nearby.

I can't focus and am terrified of opening my eyes. I shut them close as if my life, my sanity, or whatever is left of it, depends on it. I'm confused and my mind is clouded with a darkness from everything around me weighing down on me.

"Get down!" I hear someone yelling at me, "Get down now."

What? I think I muttered that out loud. I slowly lower one of my hands from my ear.

"Brooklyn!" Everything dawns on me, realization hits me as I allow my eyes to open. There's Ethan, right in front of me, on the floor but very much alive. There's yelling and gunshots from the other room, I can hear Ryan cry out in pain. Several shots are being fired. I fall to the ground, my chair still tied to me from behind. I shut my eyes in terror, expecting to get shot any minute now. At least Ethan's with me.

I open them to peek when I hear footsteps near me. It takes me a few seconds to realize Ethan has broken his chair and is getting his wrists out of the now loose ropes. He rushes over to me, and I am paralyzed, I feel as if I have shifted into an exalted state. My body does not belong to me anymore, it seems. I'm looking at myself from the corner of the room, all I can do is slowly breathe and stare at Ethan.

He's alive.

But who's shooting who? Or rather, who shot who first?

"Brooklyn!" Ethan is on his knees behind my chair, shaking me by my shoulders. He reaches for the pocketknife that he gave me earlier, cutting the rope to free me. Right after, he grabs my hand and lifts me from the ground. "Stay with me, we have to get out, right now."

My lips part as I bring my hand to his face, caressing his jaw. "You're alive." I mutter, tears welling up behind my eyes. His hand goes up to join mine on his cheek. He nods and closes the gap between us, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to bring me to his chest. His chin is resting on top of my head as he talks softly. "If we want to get out of here alive, you need to focus my love."

Just like that, I'm right here, in this room, with Ethan. I nod as he lets go off my shoulders.

We need to get out of here.

Me and my lover.

I look around the room and point at the window, it's the only connection to the outside, apart from this one door. We can leave through there, if only we manage to open it. Ethan follows my gaze and slips his hand through mine, swiftly pulling me with him through the room, leading us there. My feet move without my mind registering, I do whatever Ethan tells me to do.

I can feel my heartbeat in my throat as Ethan fiddles with the window opening, feeling sick to my stomach. The shooting and screams come to an end, and there's a silence surrounding us for a few seconds.

"Fuck!" Ethan yells out in frustration and starts pushing the glass with his bare hands. It's not going to open like this. He turns around, letting his gaze wander over the mess on the floor. It takes him a few seconds before he sees and bents down to grab a loose brick from the floor. "Get behind me." He mutters and pulls me behind him before I have time to object.

I shut my eyes as he throws it through the window, a loud shattering noise echoing through the room and pieces of glass raining on our feet. He's working so quickly, I am just standing there staring at him. I can't seem to be able to think.

He takes off his coat and throws it over the lower part of the window opening, covering the broken glass parts. He pulls me closer by my hand and makes a gesture to put my feet on his currently intertwined hands. I do as I'm told, putting my right foot in his hands, using him as a ladder to reach the window. It's big enough to fit a human being. To fit both of us.

"Go, go!" Ethan tries to get me outside as soon as possible. As I'm leaning on his coat with my hands before pulling my feet up through the opening, I wince, a piece of glass is poking through the fabric and slashing the palm of my left hand.

"Shit, are you okay?" Ethan's worried tone reaches me. I nod, rightfully convinced this cut is nothing compared to what would happen if we stay inside any longer.

Then, I feel Ethan's body slightly turning. As a reflex, I turn my head around and fall silent at hearing footsteps. To my horror, Noah rushes back into the room, limping. He seems to be injured, but he has enough hatred in him to lift his gun and aim for us in a split second.

The window is too high for me to get myself out entirely, and Ethan seems to notice too. Before I can comprehend it, Ethan and I are both on the floor, him hovering over me with his back to my chest. I hear several shots, all aimed at us, at him.

"Ethan!" I shriek out, I try to push him off me. God, no. I need him to live now that we've made it this far. Noah limbs closer to us, but as blue and red lights fall through the window and lighten up the room, he panics and turns around.

Somebody called the police.

"Ethan—," I grab his face as his body rolls off me, coming to lay next to me. "I'm o-okay." He chokes out. He's not, he's a liar. I look down at his chest and stomach, there's blood seeping through his shirt, the stain becoming bigger and bigger as he bleeds more and more.

Please God, no. I roam my hands on his torso, trying to close the opening of his wounds, trying to slow the process of bleeding out.

"Stay with me, stay with me." I beg, taking off my sweater and pushing it onto his wounds. Several yelling policemen run into the room. Everything happens so quickly. "He's been shot!" I scream at them, only to turn around, back to him. "Stay with me." I cry, trying to keep the blood from spilling in a desperate attempt. Stay with me, damnit. I need my lover.

"Shh." The soothing noise comes from Ethan's parted lips, he grabs one of my hands. My eyes meet his, the emerald eyes I've fallen for, and I caress my thumb over his cheek, Ethan's hand lingering on my wrist. I think back to his words earlier, silently begging I can distract him until the paramedics get to us.

"I'm in love with you." I whisper, bending forward to place a soft kiss, lingering my lips on his for a few seconds. His lip is swollen, and there are bloody fingerprints on his bruised cheek now. My blood mixed with his. "There's no one out there for me but you. I want to be with you. Don't you dare fucking leave me right now." My voice is timid as I speak. "You're going to be okay." It seems like I'm convincing not only him, but myself as well.

I wipe my wet cheeks with my bloody hands rather forcefully, trying to compose myself. There's panic spreading across my chest, radiating off me. As his lips turn into a weak smile, my heart flutters inside of my chest. He's going to be okay. I know he is.

As I continue whispering sweet words to Ethan to keep him conscious and with me, I continue to press onto his wounds, trying to not make him wince. I just need him to hold on a little longer.

Two paramedics rush into the room, followed by Cole. The paramedics get Ethan onto a stretcher and our hands involuntarily get separated to let them do their job.

My hand suddenly feels cold.

I fall into Cole's arms, softly crying into his chest while trying to slow my breathing. Adrenaline, shock, fear, anger and sadness consume me, making me feel overwhelmed.

He rubs his hand on my back in a comforting manner and gives me a few seconds of silence.

"He's going to be okay." Cole murmurs, letting go of me as he takes a hold of my hand. I nod, believing his words. We've come this far and Ethan is a fighter. He won't let go this easily.

As we walk out of the room, my eyes fall on two bodies on the ground, both covered with bloody white sheets. "Noah and Lexi." Cole squeezes my hand as he tells me this, confusion taunting my mess of a mind as we continue walking. Every step I take, feels like another jab at my chest. I freeze. She was my best friend. A traitor by their hands, but not deserving of an early death.

Cole seems to notice my confusion. "It seems like Lexi shot Ryan. I just overheard it was in the leg so he's not getting away that easy. They're patrolling the ambulance to the hospital but will arrest him as soon as he is healed. Lexi won us some essential time by pulling that trigger."

She tried to fix things. It was too late, Lexi, I want to think. But that's not fair. If she hadn't shot Ryan first, Noah would have shot Ethan in the head, but instead he ran out and Ethan got an opportunity to get out of his chair.

"Noah must have shot her and then himself. Motherfucker took the easy escape." As much as that gnarls at my chest, it's terribly unfair. I know death will not bring him peace. Rest in hell, motherfucker. At least Ryan did not get that easy escape. He will pay for this, for all of this.

My Lexi however, I will forgive her. Not only do I want her to rest in peace, I want to leave this behind me. I want to remember the person she was before Noah manipulated her and got to her. She did not benefit from anything she did, she did it because she always thought the best of people. She did it because she thought she was helping Noah out. Nobody can verify this, but this is what I will believe. I just lost not only my best friend, but my sister. She'll always leave a gaping hole in the middle of this heart of mine.

Before the waves of a long process of grief hit me, I swallow Cole's words. On top of this building pain, the one hiding under my currently paralyzed mind, I cannot lose another person. I will not lose another one of my loved ones, my limited loved ones. "Thank you." I mutter. I am grateful for him. I want to ask him how he and the police timed this perfectly. How they got here before all of us were dead. I have so many questions, but I save those for later.

We rush outside, finding the paramedics getting Ethan into the ambulance as quickly as possible. "Go, go, I'll meet you there!" Cole pushes me towards the back of the vehicle, telling the paramedics I will be joining them. Thankfully, nobody interferes. I step in and sit next to Ethan as one paramedic sits across from me.

He starts working on Ethan, injecting him with something and trying to continue slowing down the bleeding with other medical gear that is better than my sweater. He hands the bloody sweater to me and my shaky hands manage to put it back on. His eyes widen at the cut in my palm, but I shake my head. I need him to focus his attention on Ethan.

My hand instinctively finds Ethan's, and I feel warm again.

I stare at him, rubbing my thumb on the back of his hand and notice him whispering, meeting my eyes. I lean in to listen, cherishing every single word that's tumbling from his lips. "I laid my eyes on you the second I saw you through those bars that day." Ethan's eyes are barely open as he whispers. "When I dropped my pencil and stared at you." He coughs, a single drop of blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

"Hey, hey." I mutter, wiping the blood away with my thumb. "You can tell me about all of this later." Because there will be a later. There will be.

Ethan shakes his head once and continues as the paramedic grabs the oxygen mask. "The second your eyes left mine, I drew you. I drew you because I didn't know who you where or why you were there. I didn't want to forget your face. The face of the girl I loved from behind those saddening bars."

I am out of words; I lean forward and place a kiss on his forehead. Ethan's eyes flutter close, almost as if in peace with whatever we have coming our way now. His grip on my hand does not loosen. He holds on to me as if his life literally depends on it. I squeeze it to let him know I'm still here. He squeezes me back, not loosening his hand. And that tells me, he will be alright.

As the paramedic pulls the oxygen mask over Ethan's mouth and his warm hand lingers in mine, I know that it ends here. There will be no more pain. There will only be recovery from now on. This misery, this injustice, this pain.

It ends here, with Ethan and me.

This heart beneath my ribcage, the boned bars that protect me from physical harm are nothing compared to the comfort and protection of his arms. He is my only constant in a life filled with sickening plot twists. He, the blonde-haired, green-eyed man with a lopsided smile, has my heart behind lock and key. And there's no one else I'd rather spent a figurative life sentence with, behind bars.

T H E  E N D

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A/N; this is insane to me. but here we fucking are, after y e a r s.

there will be an epilogue to tie any loose ends. that will be followed by an author's note and some exciting announcements about not one, not two, but THREE books i'm working on offline.  i am so incredibly excited to share the details with you guys.

thank you thank you thank you all for reading,
i hope you enjoyed. please don't forget to vote & comment, i really enjoy reading every single one of them.

so much love & appreciation from me to all of you,

— lyra b.