𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏'𝒔 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 ✪ 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

04| the only way

WARNING: This chapter may contain explicit circumstances that are meant for readers who are 18 or older. Feel free to skip it if it may cause a trigger or discomfort. This chapter contains graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, and possible mentions of death.

(LONG CHAPTER)

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R E C A P:

The plan was simple enough. For the first one back, we were all under the impression that it would be a piece of cake, but fate had different plans for the seven of us, little did we know.

Johannesburg and Cape Town were the two riches cities in all of Africa. It was no surprise that Vossly would go somewhere so lavish to sell his stolen gems. He was a man well known for the way he gravitated towards the more expensive things in life, so we used his patterns as a map, and due to geographical differences of his past, T'Challa concluded that his location had to be in a 50 mile radius of the two most beautiful cities. Vossly had no idea what was coming for him, so it seemed...

SIX HOURS LATER

"Devina!?" Steve had shouted like his entire world had been shattered right in front of him. The sound only seemed to amplify the infliction I had sustained as the pain in his voice reached my ears. He had run to me faster than any normal person could have. T'Challa followed behind, attempting to push and pull my shocked husband into moving faster towards me than already made possible with his super human speed. As he got nearer to me, it began to dawn on him. The severity of my injury was much worse than any of them could've ever dreamed. I was on the verge between this place, and the next. My chances were growing slim.

Since he had been on the other side of the terrain directly across from me, it seems that he had no choice but to watch from afar as I fell - stumbling back from the pain I was in, while the sight of my fresh oozing blood stared back at him. The sizzling sight-threatening pain that seethed from my lips making my legs shake uncontrollably as I kept my eyes on him. I tried holding on for him, I tried so very hard.

I gasped, hissing as the burning flames of pain licked at my abdomen. Steve was still running; still fighting against the wind to reach me. I held my hand over the wound, afraid to look at the damage that had been done. Seeing my own blood had made me nauseous in the past, so I struggled to give myself the once over that my body was begging me for.

Blood seeped through the cracks of my fingers, and easily soaked into the fabric of my shirt and jeans. After feeling the rush of blood pulsing against my temple, I dropped my eyes to see what damage had been done. The sight amazed me. I had multiple ragged stretches that had torn my skin apart. Out of pure panic, I covered the wound with my hands, afraid of what was to happen next.

The events of my life raced by my eyes unexpectedly. The sensation of dying was terrifying. Having my breath stuck in my throat - desperate for release while I tasted the blood in my mouth. There was so much I hadn't done yet. So much I hadn't seen. So many apologies left unsaid, so many hugs and kisses not given or received. I wasn't ready.