The Dark City Chronicles ⁓ Book Three
The apocalypse looms ever closer! Steamy romance, heart-stopping action, seductive vampires, magic that defies nature, sprinkles of dark-humor, and, as always, the everlasting bonds of friendship.
Hannah's strug...
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"Dad?" Kane rasped.
His vision was blackening, but he resisted the pull of darkness. He couldn't give in—not when he was staring into his dad's face and taking in every feature that he'd missed fiercely.
Milton's glasses fell down his lightly freckled nose. Kane's hazy gaze traced the faint scar over his eyebrow, to his messy brown hair, and then to his familiar chestnut eyes.
He looked the same.
He wore the same checkered pullover. The only thing missing was his shotgun from when they had entered that crypt so long ago.
Kane was relieved beyond what he could fathom in his hazy state, but also so lost. Had his sanity cracked, and now he was seeing ghosts in his last moments?
"It's me, son." Milton's chest rose quickly. "Where are you hurt?"
"Everywhere," Kane growled through the pain. "How are you here? You're dead, aren't you?"
"I thought so," Milton said, smiling shakily. "I have no idea what's happening."
Milton slowly placed the pistol on the bloody carpeting near Kane's head. He looked like he was holding back tears. The sight twisted Kane's stomach into a mess of nerves.
Dad didn't cry.
Neither of them did.
Kane choked on his thin breath, tears falling from his eyes. He had a scream bubbling in his constricting throat. The only reason he didn't wail himself hoarse was because he wasn't that far gone to forget his pride.
"Reid?" Kane gasped. Through their bond, he feltthat the idiot was alive. He was scared to look because it was quiet. He yearned for a stupid quip or an irritating laugh—anything that wasn't dreaded silence.
The only sound was a tap—tap—tap—of what might be blood dripping down the wall or off the wooden cabinetry.
Milton glanced up. The shallowness of his breath caused Kane's silent tears to become gasps of panic.
Then, the old man gave him a gentle smile. It was such bullshit Kane would have punched him if he could move past the searing pain that was only soaring.
"He's fine," Milton said gently.
"You're lying!"
Choking on his thin breath, Kane tried to turn his head to look for Reid, panicking.
Milton grasped Kane's jaw, keeping his blearing gaze on him. "No," he said harshly. "Don't look. He'll be alright. He's alive. But if you look now, you're going to see a lot of blood. He's not conscious. So, look at me. Alright, son?"
Kane nodded, teary, his vision blurring.
Milton checked Kane's sorry state over with a careful eye and then looked back at him grimly. "You're heavily injured."
