All I see is Scar.
My body shouldn’t be able to move. Shouldn’t be able to fight. But the rage—it doesn’t care about torn muscles or shatterednerves or even the blood loss. It simply consumes me. Firing up the blood in my veins.
And then, I snap.
My arms are useless—dead weight, still screaming in pain—so I use what I have.
A sharp kick lands square in Scar’s wrist. His gun flies from his hand, skittering across the floor.
He stumbles. Too slow.
I close the distance and slam my forehead into his face.
Once. Twice. Three fucking times.
Bone cracks under the impact. Blood spurting from his nose as he staggers back.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Spike’s voice, clipped and urgent. “Bug, I’ve got eyes on Ruin and Charlotte. West corridor.”
I’m barely holding on. Barely keeping myself tethered to the moment. Rage is still clawing at the edges, threatening to drag me under. But I force it down. Use it.
Control it.
Scar lunges again, and I meet him head-on, driving a brutal kick to his ribs. He grunts, slipping on his own blood.
I catch a glimpse of Spike and Rebel locked in their own fight.
Then I risk a glance over my shoulder.
Mistress is tugging at Charlotte’s arm. “Let’s go. We need to go!”
But Charlotte is frozen.
Her eyes locked on me. Torn.
She doesn’t want to leave.
I mouth it.Go.
Please. Don’t choose me. Choose survival.
Scar swings wildly, catching me off guard. Pain explodes across my ribs as I stumble, but I don’t fall.
I see a flash of Charlotte’s frame heading out the door. And I let myself relax a bit.
Then Scar and I both dive for the gun that slid across the floor earlier.
Our hands miss. We crash into each other, hitting the ground, grappling hard—our bodies slamming against the concrete. Muffled shots drown against Scar’s grunts and groans. His eyes brimming, blood blocking his vision as he blinks hard.
I don’t reach for the weapon again, though it’s too far.
Because I don’t want to kill him yet. Not like this.
He deserves slow, excruciating torture. I want the bastard beggingfor death by the time I’m done with him.
“R-Ruin.” Spike’s voice cuts through the haze just as something slides toward me.
A gun.
