SAVE POINT 11

Rosabella

‘Please.’

I hated that word right now. I hated begging—begging Goran, especially. I hated groveling at the feet of the man who’d killed my parents—murdered them in cold blood. I hated gazing into his power-enflamed eyes and seeing how small I looked there, reflected back in them. Like I was merely a prize in an arcade and he'd just won it.

And I was lost again in the self-pity and self-destruction that was sacrifice for those I loved. Shit.

Goran's shoulders squared with inflated ego that only made him look larger above me in the cramped, dark tunnel. My stomach tumbled. Was it the situation or me? The fact that he was still waving the kill switch around—the one that would reduce all of my friends and The Game world to instant dust? Thinking about it, I didn’t feel so well…

…No, seriously…

I felt…

I gagged, grasping at my stomach and throat simultaneously—feeling the world shift and spin though I was standing still. A cough raked through my body like something alive was trying to escape from my throat—

[-7 HP, 40/89]

Goran's arms encircled my shoulders, and it took every bit of self-restraint in me not to kick him away. I had to look like I was tame—like I'd go with him, so he'd drop the kill switch, and my friends and The Game world would be okay—

"Rosie," the man murmured warmly (thank God my hair had fallen over my bent face, and he couldn't see my icy stare and hard jaw) "I've got you, Rosie."

Yes, he did. Yes, he freaking had me, and I hated it. His love was all-but-smothering cage bars, trapping me where I didn't want to be, and he didn't even see it! He was a murderer, and he hadn't changed his ways! He was still willing to murder—the entire Game world this time! …All in his convoluted quest for us to be together. He was an enormous twister blowing through and crushing towns for the sake of a breeze 200 miles away. When did the damage stop?

When could I stop having to give into him just so he didn't do more harm?

...When could I stop being the lamb to slaughter?

I swayed dangerously as my head spun again and, unfortunately, had to rely on Goran's body to remain upright.

[-7 HP, 33/89]

My HP. It was draining quickly—

[-7 HP, 26/89]

Too quickly.

[-7 HP, 19/89]

Dwindling.

Was it the wound in my side? God, my head felt light and my throat tight—

"It's okay, Rosie," Goran muttered, "I made a friend in New York who has health packs. I'll take you there—get you a pack and some fresh air—"

I coughed again, hacking which shook my body. Was I going to pass out? The dark hallway and Goran's face swam in front of my eyes. It felt like my knees were going to give out from under me—

[-7 HP, 12/89]

"Hold on, Rosie," Goran's voice echoed in my mind, and I was vaguely aware of him pulling a pocket watch out of his pocket.

Grand Dragon? I called weakly in my head, searching blindly for some type of comfort that I currently couldn't find. Grand Dragon, are you there?

[System Alert: Draconic Telepathy Used +1 XP, 947/1000]

Always.

Came the deep-toned reply in my mind.

Child, it's the darkness affecting you from when you absorbed it from The Game. Breathe.

But I couldn't. It felt like an impossible task to bring oxygen into my lungs—like, even when I tried to focus, the breaths were short and shallow. I gasped. And, as I struggled, blinking—trying to keep above the black sea rising in my vision—the world blurred and shifted.

And Goran held me upright on the sidewalk of a busy New York street.

I recognized the sign flapping in the wind on the side of the brick building looming over our heads... It had a palm on it... and read 'Psychic'...

"Come on, Rosabella," Goran started to tug me down the street—

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Not today you son of a bitch," Sparo growled, stepping out of a shadow where he'd been leaning against the building facade. His muscular arms were crossed adamantly over his chest, and he had an, overall, vibe of thoroughly...utterly...unapologetically...

PISSED OFF.

Thank you, thank you, Grand Dragon, I prayed silently, though I didn’t think he could hear me as easily as in The Game.

"I thought Prickgada'd try to route Goran out of the Code by changing the location schematics ever so slightly to avoid us..." Dormouse muttered to himself, also stepping out of the shadows. “She put the exit here on the street instead of in the apartment—clever…but not clever enough.”

"That's nerd lingo for, you're fucked," Sparo informed Goran, spitting on the ground at the man's feet. "We have the numbers, and we have your Witchy girlfriend. Now is the appropriate time for your oh-shit surrender."

Sparo locked eyes with me, and, even with the world tossing like ocean waves in my vision, I could see the softness there, the yearning to have me on the other side of this argument—on his side. Not in Goran's arms. In his.

And I watched as, one by one, all of my friends stepped out of the woodwork. Hope fluttered in my chest. There was Dormouse grinning at me from the front and Mimi stepping out behind him, her eyes wide and shocked. Joy lounged, half covered in shadows, from the stairwell against the looming building, clearly holding Prickgada captive with the woman's boney hands bound tighter than they probably needed to be. And Rainer tossed me a little wave from where he stood next to an enormous, green-scaled-and-spiked dragon.

They were all here.

Still alive.

Still okay.

They were all here to save me.

A shaky smile spread on my lips, but it was shattered by Goran's laugh. Laugh?

I turned to see the man's head lolling back with the length of the grating noise. His fingers tightened on my bicep so fully that I flinched, trying to tug away, but I couldn't—especially not with my head reeling like this and the wound in my side. It pinched terribly...

"You think you can use that woman as leverage against me?" Goran nodded to Prickgada who, suddenly, looked incredibly uncomfortable as she tugged on the rope bonds at her wrists. Her lips twinged into an annoyed frown.

"I have what I came for," the man continued, his eyes darkening as they trolled over my hair, "Prickgada, you'll be fine; you have the Cheat Code. The rest of them don't. You've forced my hand. Now, I'm going to destroy all of you—" He whipped the kill switch out from behind his head, waving it in the air. His thumb was so close to flicking it—

"No!" I batted at him.

I used every last bit of my strength to face him—to plead—

"Please! Don't do this!" I begged, my voice cracking. I felt the wound rip open again on my side as I begged. That was going to be mega HP even if I couldn’t see it in the real world— "For—for me! For anyone...please!"

I don't know if it was how completely terrible I felt or the thought of losing my friends, but tears overwhelmed me, suddenly. Like the urge to kick. To scream. To protest. Like the five-year-old Goran aways expected me to be. It wasn't supposed to be like this! I’d just felt like I had a place...maybe a home! Among these people! With all of them...with Sparo! I was finally feeling safe—finally understanding my past. Finally! And, now, Goran was going to wipe it all away? Kill? Again?! This was murder! This was—

"Rosie, this is for your own good," Goran’s voice was lined in patronizing patience, "You can't stop me. I've wanted to do this for years. Once The Game world's gone, you'll have to stay with me. There'll be no other choice. My brother, Ford, was a fool. Love doesn't make people stay, just force. Only ever force—"

"No!" I screamed back, sobs muffling the word, "No! It can be different. I'll make it different—"

When I saw I wasn’t getting anywhere with my words, my hand flew to the Immortality Cheat Code necklace. If I took this thing off, he couldn’t destroy The Game, right? He wouldn’t kill me, would he? I had to get it off!

I struggled, trying to tug it over my head, but the glowing pearls caught in my hair, and Goran’s eyes snapped to what I was doing. His hand came down, strong, pinning it in place on my neck—nearly choking me with how it pushed into my trachea.

"I told you! I've made up my mind!" Goran grabbed me by the ear. Pain ripped through the tender flesh there. I cried out, but I couldn't stop fighting. I'd never stop fighting!

Goran held up the kill switch dramatically again, his eyes dark and ready. His finger hovering so close again—

This was my last chance!

"I'll stay!" I screamed again, "I'll stay with you just like you want! Just like you want just—just please don't kill my friends—"

But Goran sighed—not a good sigh. His face creased with weariness, "No, Rosie. It's over."

And his finger moved to flip the lever.

HONK!

A taxicab ran the curb.

Thwack!

Something thudded.

I pitched forward. Something snapped near my ears—a chain breaking?

Pearls rained down on my shoulders, scattering down the street in slow motion as I watched. …The Immortality Cheat Code necklace? Smoke stung at my eyes and mouth as my palms hit the grainy concrete of the sidewalk. My hands seared. I looked up, dazed and weak...

To see Goran's body.

Laying near the yellow cab tires.

Was he dead? He wasn’t moving. Shock pulsed the image, expanding and contracting it, as green wings beat overhead, spraying strands of brown hair into my face. Stunned, I watched as the enormous Charmus Tsung dragon with our group dove down from the sky, sunlight streaming over the points of its scales and its spiked skin in a way that was almost blinding.

And his massive jaw unhinged.

And the dragon swallowed Goran's body in two gut-wrenching, slurping bites.

The beast burped, a halo of fire exiting his black lips.

I swallowed. Oh shit. ...Oh my God, that had just happened...

The cab driver—a stout guy with his hair wrapped in a turban—got out of the cab, slamming the door and grumbling a million profanities. My eyes darted to the kill switch, which tottered in the middle of the busy street. Horns honked and blared in the distance. I leaned, snatching the switch off the asphalt, catching it and my breath at the same time. Its cold metal felt comforting against my fingers.

Like clutching tangible safety.

For once.

"Hey, who'd I hit? Some nutjob was in the middle of the street!" the cab driver yelled, jabbing a finger at my chest like this was all my fault.

‘Nutjob’? He had that right. My mouth drooped open. What should I tell him—? What could I possibly say—

"I didn't see anyone," Joy called from the back, sidling up with swinging hips and brushing her pink locks out of her face with a smooth hand. "I definitely saw a whole bunch of nobody in front of your cab."

The Middle Eastern man shrugged like it was no skin off his nose. He turned around stiltedly, moving towards his cab as his creased brow wrinkled. "Weird day," he said shortly.

He had no flipping idea…

Sparo leaned into my blurring vision, "Rosabella—Rosabella, you okay?" His voice sounded far away and muffled even though I could feel his hand on my arm. My limbs swayed a little as I tried to regain my balance.

"I—I think so.," I slurred.

Except I wasn’t. The reality came crashing down on my head like the dizziness as the world flickered—black dots fizzling and spitting in my vision. I coughed, bringing a hand up to my lips, and, when I brought it back down again, black blood stained my fingers. What the—?

My knees gave out as people shouted around me.