The two of them keep working quietly until Foxface spills the detergent right next to my feet. Cassian pauses, glaring at him through his mask.
“Watch it,” he mutters. “Wouldn't want the Reaper to break free.”
Break free?
I glance down, where the detergent seeps into the concrete. With most of the blood being dissolved, the puddle I’d been standing in has thinned out. What I see beneath it stops my nonexistent breath cold.
Beneath the dissolving blood, beneath the filth and the grime, is something I never expected to see.
Symbols.
Intricate, curling, deliberate symbols. Runes, even.
They’re carved into the concrete itself, forming a detailed circle that I am standing inside.
A containment circle.
A binding.
I didn't even know things like this existed, but somehow, I get it right away.
“What is this?” I find myself asking. “Some kind of occult stuff?”
“Occult? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Foxface responds from behind his mask. “Makes you think of the devil or something.”
Well, my ex would definitely think of the devil if he saw this. Jessica, with her irrational fear of crows, would probably faint just by being here.
Of course… If I were still alive and was forced to see two strong men dismember another, I'd probably fall apart too.
But, then again… I’mnothuman anymore, so…
“Dramatic or not, I have never seen anything like this before,” I say.
“And thank fuck for that,” Cassian adds. To my surprise, I detect a hint of amusement in his muffled voice. “Otherwise, you'd know exactly what to do to break free.”
I stare at him. So, Icanbreak free from here?
I try to move my foot. Just a little. Nothing. But wait. When the pull tugged at me and forced me into such agony that I had no choice but to bend over and fall, somehow Ididmove.
What if… I can move vertically?
I shift my weight—not forward, not backward, but up. And just like that, Idomove.
Well, it’sbarelya movement, a fraction of an inch, really—but it’s enough. Enough for me to get the hell out of here. The only thing I need to do is focus.
Foxface notices instantly. His head snaps toward me, that gas mask of his suddenly looking extra creepy. Cassian notices, too. His shoulders tense just slightly, his hands still gripping the bottle of industrial cleaner.
“You’re a quick learner,” Foxface says, clearly amused.
Cassian just scoffs. “Doesn’t matter. Nathaniel should be here any minute.”
Nathaniel. Again, that name.
And as if on cue, footsteps echo down the hall outside the basement.
“Speak of the devil,” Cassian murmurs.
The footsteps grow louder, closer, until finally—
