[𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟] ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘

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Let's pray this works Isla thought to herself.

Suddenly, with a bang, the helicopter had been hit. It plunged down in a fiery explosion.

It had worked.

"What a shot!" Sully cheered.

"Hell yeah!" Jeremy exclaimed, hugging his sister tightly.

"We're home free! You kids did it. You did it." Sully panted.

Jeremy looked over to his sister, pulling her in once again.

"We did it, Isles. We did it." Jeremy said. Isla pulled her brother in tighter. "Now we can finally go home. Go to Santa Fe, to Monaco. We can be a family. Things are gonna be different this time around. We're gonna be happy."

Isla felt her heart swell.

"Nothings ever parting the Dalton siblings again." She shook her head.

"Damn right." Jeremy smiled with tears in his eyes. "Sam, mom, dad, they'd all be so fucking proud." Jeremy laughed.

"Yeah. They really would." Isla smiled.

It was homeward bound from there on.

Nothing would ever split the two siblings again.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing she thought.

Nothing he thought

Nothing.

But they were both wrong.

And that was the fatal flaw.

A gunshot rang out.

Isla spun around to see Jo Braddock, somehow alive on the ship holding a pistol.

"If I lose, so do you." Jo sneered and released the anchor down.

"Shit!" Isla exclaimed, lurching forward as the ship was anchored in place, the helicopter not being able to fly it forward.

Suddenly that was the least of her priorities.

Suddenly everything else faded away.

Suddenly she became aware of the fact that her brother was standing in front of her. And his once white shirt was stained a crimson red.

Jo Braddock shot Jeremy Dalton.

Isla felt herself scream his name. But nothing was heard except for her pounding heartbeat as she watched her only family left, fall down to the ground, his hands now coated in a thick crimson red paint.

"Jeremy." She spoke, voice trembling as she lugged him over to a safe spot behind a crate.

"It's ok." Jeremy spoke shakily. "It's ok. Don't look at. Don't be scared, Isles." Even in his weakest moment, even in his dying moments, Jeremy was still protecting his little sister. Trying to protect her the way he hadn't been able to when they were young and he had to leave.

"I'm so sorry, Isla." Jeremy whispered.

"Don't say that. Don't say you're sorry like you're going to die." Isla cried, trying to stop the bleeding.

"I am, Isla." Jeremy said weakly.

"No." Isla choked out.

"Im sorry." Jeremy coughed. He was sorry for not being able to be there with Isla while she grew up, he was sorry because he knew he was leaving her. And she was scared and sad. And those were two things he never wanted her to be.

"I love you, my pain in the ass sister. You're going to be fine, kid." Jeremy wheezed.

"Jeremy." Isla was sobbing now.

"You- you need- to live. To go- to Santa Fe, Monaco. To live." Jeremy said, beginning to grow numb and tired.

The red on Isla's hands matched the red on Jeremy's abdomen.

"I don't want to live without you, dumbass. You're all the family I have left." Isla demanded.

"I said I was happy that you have Nate. I still am." Jeremy croaked out. "Leave, Isla." Jeremy said, hearing Braddock and Nathan Drake fight.

"No." Isla shook her head.

"It's okay." Jeremy nodded.

"No im not leaving you, idiot." Isla cried as she frantically tried to find more material to stop his bleeding and to haul him with her.

"Isla Dalton!" The voice of Jo Braddock boomed.

"C'mom we gotta go!" Isla whispered, still hidden. "Jeremy we have to go."

There was no response.

Nothing.

"Jeremy?"

Jo Braddocks voice called for Isla.

"Jeremy."

Isla heard nothing.

Jeremy Dalton was no longer gripping onto his sister's hand. Instead it fell limp next to him.

"Jeremy."

Jo began to fire bullets at the crate Isla was hiding behind. Chunks of wood came flying at her as the noise penetrated her ears.

"Stop!" She screamed, feeling like a crying child. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I love you." She whispered, holding her brother one last time.

Jeremy told her not to be scared. But Isla Dalton was terrified.

Terrified as she stepped away from the crate covered in her brother's blood, steady hands, holding a pistol and a strong face.

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 //𝓝𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓮Where stories live. Discover now