We go at each other bare-handed.
He lands a punch. I land two.
My knuckles split his lip. His elbow catches my ribs. I feel something crack but keep moving, driving him back toward the gutted framework as the floor tilts under us.
The building is coming apart.
“If we’re dying,” he snarls, pulling a knife. “You’re going first.”
He slashes. I dodge. The blade kisses the strap of my book bag, slicing partway through it.
I growl and slam my forehead into his face.
He swings a wood end table with everything he’s got. I make myself smaller and it shatters against the wall next to me. Then, he lunges from behind, looping something roughand fast around my neck—a rope, cable, something scavenged from nearby.
It tightens.
Stars bloom at the edges of my vision as I jam my fingers between the rope and my skin, fighting for space, for air. The tower shudders again, a massive detonation ripping through the levels just below us. The floor drops an inch.
We’re out of time.
I rock back into him once.
Twice.
Then plant my feet and shove off a metal cabinet with everything I have.
We go airborne together.
The night explodes around us as we sail out through the shattered window, the screaming skyscraper behind us folding in on itself, finally admitting defeat.
And gravity takes over.
He clings to me as we fall, fingers digging into my jacket, his breath hot and panicked.
“You stupid bitch,” he snarls, spittle flying. “I’m going to make sure you die before we hit the ground.”
Wind screams around us, ripping the air from my lungs, tearing the city into a blur of lights and glass and rushing death.
I bare my teeth at him. “I’ve got a better idea.”
I grab the cord and loop it around my hips, hands moving fast despite the chaos. Knot tight. No hesitation. Then I swing the loose length up and around his neck once.
Twice.
Three times.
His eyes go wideas realization finally catches up.
“It’s about time you fucking died,” I growl at him. “Asshole.”
I drive my elbow into his face.
Bone cracks. His nose explodes. Blood sprays and vanishes into the wind as I hammer him again, and again, splitting his brow. I dig both thumbs into his eyes, grunting through my teeth, until he’s clawing at nothing and I kick.
He falls and I rip the cord to my parachute hard.
My book bag jerks violently as the chute deploys, catching wind with a brutal yank that rips a scream from my throat and wrenches my spine. The rope around my hips goes taut—I scream at the agony in my side—and Tex’s neck snaps with a wet, final sound.
