She took out my dominant arm, my right arm, and I know she did it on purpose. The bullet is acting like a pin in the joint; even if my body manages to heal itself, I won’t be able to move my shoulder properly until I get the foreign object out, and this isn’t something I can do easily with my own hands.
I glance around the darkened hangar, picking out the shadowy shapes of workbenches and tool chests.
Maybe I can find a pair of pliers.
My heart picks up speed as my vitals gradually recover, hammering so hard now it’s making me dizzy.
The problem is, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I’m still reeling, nearly shaking with pain and anger, and still, some delusional part of me is thinking—
Wow.
Maybe I could hate her more if I admired her less.
Rosabelle will go down fighting with her last breath, and I can’t help but respect her for it. That’s the kind of girl who shows up, holds the line, keeps her promises, guards yoursecrets, destroys your enemies. That’s the kind of girl I want to go into battle with.
I close my eyes and, right away, I hear the echo of her voice.
I’m really trying to be a better person, but if even one of them hurts you I swear I’ll slaughter them all—
The memory of that moment floods a searing heat through my veins that nearly hurts, stealing my breath.
I swallow.
Fuck poetry, this girl is going to carve my heart out with a knife.
The truth is, I’d have done exactly the same thing in her position. I’d have done anything to get home to my family. No mercy; no regrets. Maybe I’d be angrier if I didn’t know she was just trying to get back to her sister.
Before it’s too late.
I exhale, pushing aside a rising, paralyzing apprehension. Seven weeks. No one else understands the stakes. No one else knows what I learned from her tonight—and if we let her escape, we might never know what the hell is coming.
The crash and clangor of metal echoes all around me, the general din of chaos unabated. I squint up around the moonlit hangar, studying the few shafts of illumination slanting across its depths. Occasional shots ring out, boots hitting the ground.
If they’re working this hard, Rosabelle’s still running.
Of course she is.
I catch movement in my periphery, turning to see Kenjistruggling to his feet, Zain and Allie helping him up.
Kenji and I exchange a single, loaded look.
“Really?” he says, his jaw tensing. “Thisis the first girl you decide to bring home to your family?”
I manage a grim smile. “Sorry. She gets nervous around strangers.”
Zain chokes out a laugh.
“You think this is funny?” Kenji says, turning to him. “Look at me. Look athim.” He nods at me. “You still think this is funny?”
“No, sir,” Zain says quickly.
I wince as I tweak my bad arm, testing it. Then I unzip my ruined jacket with my left hand, peeling it off with difficulty. The windbreaker is shredded and still dripping blood, and I spend a moment staring at what’s left of it, realizing I was a different person the day I bought it. I didn’t know what was coming for me when I’d pulled it off a hanger, trying it on with a naive optimism. I’d gotten a discount for the small stain near the pocket, which I’d then carefully soaked and scrubbed out by hand.
But now—
Now I let the ravaged article drop to the ground in a bloody, wet heap.
Kenji hisses in pain and I look up, watching him grimace as he adjusts his weight.
