The car’s speed began to dwindle—and not just the car’s speed, but Michael’s control of it. The vehicle swayed and rolled in dizzying circles across the road, turning the drive into sothing terrifying.
Daniel felt his chest tighten as he watched. Michael was in obvious pain, yet here he was, battling to save him—to rescue him. How could this possibly end well?
"Michael, stop the car. Let’s look for help—you can’t drive like this." Daniel spoke firmly, but Michael wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t even seem to hear him, and that rattled Daniel to his core.
Before he could stand and tap Michael’s shoulder, a sharp, wrenching pain struck his stomach. A rush of warm fluid loosened between his legs. He shrieked, falling back onto the seat.
"Fuck! Oh, fuck!" Daniel facepald, then looked down at himself. So this was what an oga faced during childbirth—and they expected him to be happy about it?
He was supposed to be damn happy about pushing sothing out from where, exactly? Oh, goodness. So goddess ought to help him out of this little trap. A promise he’d made weeks ago echoed in his head—that his n would be with him when he gave birth, that no one would leave him alone. But that was exactly what was happening now. Michael couldn’t be fully present; he needed treatnt himself, probably a nice long break. Why make him suffer more for his sake?
"I’m getting there—almost there, Dan!" Michael insisted, and suddenly accelerated, jerking Daniel forward in his seat.
Oh, crap. He had to stop this before they both ended up dead. What was the use of rushing if he’d be underground before they arrived?
"Michael, slow down! Unless you want our corpses to make it instead of us!" Daniel yelled, and this ti, the words seed to reach him. Michael eased off slightly, and Daniel sighed in relief—but then froze when Michael began to shudder.
He was vomiting again, right there at the wheel.
Oh, fuck . Is this how his Christmas holiday would be? Thank goodness it wasn’t Christmas yet—though tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and here he was, stuck in the middle of this ss. Daniel grimaced, tried to stand, but collapsed back, exhausted and weak from gritting through the pain.
"Michael, we need to call for help. Now." Daniel made it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t let Michael perish—because without Michael, Cindy wouldn’t make it either.
Cindy—oh, god, Cindy. Was she alright? He pushed himself up and scrambled toward the back seat, calling her na.
She lay unconscious. She had to hear him.
"Cindy! Cindy, don’t be dead, please..." The words ca out like a prayer. Michael couldn’t lose his only family. He couldn’t. Daniel had watched people close to him lose themselves before—Michael would be destroyed if Cindy died.
Staggering weakly, he made it to the back and looked. His blood ran cold.
Cindy wasn’t breathing.
"No... Don’t do this to . Please don’t. It’s just sleep, right?" he whispered, trying to convince himself—then he caught Michael staring.
"What’s the problem?" Michael’s voice was unnaturally deep, sudden.
Daniel was taken aback. He took a sharp breath before turning, but Michael wasn’t looking at Cindy. He was looking at him.
Distract him, Daniel thought. Keep his attention away so he doesn’t collapse now. But the truth wouldn’t stay hidden forever. Michael would find out one way or another, and the very breakdown Daniel was trying to prevent would still happen.
Oh, fuck all of this.
It was the most confusing, desperate situation Daniel had ever experienced.
"Why are you looking at like that?" Daniel asked, trying to sound calm.
By now, the car had stopped moving, parked on so random road Daniel didn’t recognize. Or was it amnesia? This was clearly New York City. They had returned.
All the horrible mories began to resurface, the terrible experiences flooding back into his head like a drum filled to the brim and still pouring over.
"This isn’t happening... I’m back where it all started." This was where he was supposed to live—and take his revenge. He’d wanted to leave and never look back, but life had a way of dragging him back to the cri scene. More surprises were probably waiting here.
"You’re not acting like yourself. Is anything wrong?" Michael asked.
Daniel scoffed. The irony, coming from soone literally battling for his life behind the wheel. It was driving him crazy.
"Hmm, just a pickle. Nothing more..." Daniel forced a smile, a sneaky one that undoubtedly betrayed him.
Michael still didn’t look away, but finally turned back to the steering wheel and delivered the bad news.
"The car’s broken down. There’s no chanic around. I don’t know what to do, Daniel. I can’t fail you." Michael’s voice was somber.
Fail him? How could he think that? He hadn’t failed—he’d done everything, fought for him, even gotten himself and his sister stabbed. And now... his sister was dead.
Guilt washed over Daniel, cold and heavy. He began to shake. He’d caused the death of a sweet soul. Because of his selfish plans—plans Michael was never part of—he’d gotten him involved. Matteo never wanted Michael Lewis, but because Michael helped Daniel, he’d beco a target. Daniel couldn’t help but sob quietly.
Another despicable act to his na. He was beyond redemption.
Michael deserved the whole world, and with his bad luck, Daniel had taken his treasures from him like a thief.
"You could never fail . And I could never repay you for all the goodness you’ve shown . You’re pure," Daniel said, voice thick. "Maybe too pure for your own good. But I won’t let you end this way. I promised, and I’ll keep that promise." Love and passion burned in his erald eyes. He missed his boys—he wouldn’t survive if any of them perished. And now Michael had been added to that list.
What would his life be without these n who’d co into it?
"It gladdens to see you so hyped for my happiness. You don’t know how sweet you sound. But it’s too late. I think my ti will be over soon." Michael didn’t seem to realize he’d started crying until he fell into Daniel’s arms. He wept like a child, and Daniel joined him, his own pain temporarily forgotten in the face of Michael’s breaking heart.
Luckily, the contractions had eased for a mont—not an ergency now. His focus was entirely on Michael, this broken sweet soul.
"Leaving you behind hurts so much. So freaking bad I can’t move. It’s like my body is rooted to you," Michael confessed, clutching Daniel like a lost treasure. "eting you was a blessing. You filled my life with rainbows and sunshine. Even at your lowest, I loved you. I adore you. I wanted us to have ti... to share the passion in our hearts before death stole either of us." Michael coughed violently on the last words, blood trickling from his lips.
"When I carried Cindy to the car... I knew she was already gone. I just couldn’t accept it. Now reality’s here. I lost. Death won again." Michael cupped Daniel’s chin and pressed their lips together, a desperate, tender kiss.
"You should go on. Have this baby. I don’t think we can go together anymore. Let go... let bury my sister." Michael’s voice was cracked, broken.
Daniel shook his head fiercely.
No. His n had left him to do this alone. Michael couldn’t do the sa. He couldn’t do this without him.
"Where you go, I go. We’re together in this. Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on revenge, I’d have spent that ti with you. But don’t worry—I’m here for you now. Just help . I want to have my baby with you by my side." Daniel’s declaration was fierce, his eyes glassy with tears. His smooth, ivory skin glistened, making him look like a crying angel.
Still clutching each other, they heard a bicycle skid to a halt beside them. Thomas stared, shocked at their state.
"What’s going on? Daniel, shouldn’t you be in a hospital?"
As if waiting for that cue, a powerful contraction ripped through Daniel. He crumpled to his knees with a sharp cry.
"The baby!" He looked at Michael, pleading.
Michael managed a weak smile. "I’ll be with you shortly. Thomas is faster—he’ll take you to my doctor, Ruth Hawkins."
Like sothing from a movie, the lovers were separated. As Thomas lifted him in a bridal carry, Daniel whispered toward Michael, "Keep your promise. Don’t abandon ."
Thomas rushed toward the city with desperate speed, aided by an old man who offered his car. In the chaos, caras flashed. Pictures were taken, shared—his vulnerable mont already spreading online.
anwhile, Michael found his phone and typed to Draven:
It’s Michael Lewis. Your husband is in the hospital, about to give birth. He needs you with him. Don’t worry—he’s safe for now.
After sending it, he drove the broken car slowly back toward the countryside. At his ho, he carried Cindy in his arms to the plot of land behind the house—a small farmyard studded with tombstones.
It was his family graveyard. All of them were gone now. He was the last one left.
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