If Reapers are still watching, it means something else is still waiting too.
Another nightmare, not gone, just patient.
I tuck that thought away and decide it can be tomorrow’s problem.
Because I am done being scared. Whatever time I have left, and whatever is supposed to happen next, I will meet it with open arms from now on. If it wants me, it can come straight at me and find I am not flinching anymore.
We get born to die after all, right? Might as well stop living like the ending is the only thing that matters.
I know for a fact it is not.
Talon, Cassian, and Nathaniel parked their vehicle on the other side of the forest strip. The moment I hear that, everything clicks into place.
“So that’s why you ran from there?” I ask, pointing toward the wide expanse of trees. “How far away is the car?”
Talon shifts under my arm and adjusts his grip to support me better. He’s helping me walk after the fight, and it’s insane how fast the pain rises to the surface once the adrenaline drains and you finally take inventory. I’m bruised everywhere, and something in my back hurts badly enough that standing straight feels like punishment.
“Not that far anymore,” he replies.
I glance back over my shoulder at the rest of our group. Nathaniel drags the killer along by the rope like he’s hauling livestock, the man bound and taped up. Cassian walks close at his side, while Hailey and Lila trail behind them.
We told the girls they were free to do whatever they wanted. If they chose, they could head back to the road and call for help using the killer’s phone. Instead, they decided to come with us.I think they’re trying to find their footing in the world again, and somehow we feel like the safest option they have right now. Going back with us means Nathaniel can give them the medical care they actually deserve, and aside from the very real problem of twelve supernatural beings, the place is secluded.
I’ve already made my decision. If they do end up there with us, I’m going to tell them what I am. It isn’t a secret, and they deserve that truth if they’re going to make an informed choice about staying close.
We keep moving for another thirty minutes. It is the kind of cold day where some blades of grass crunch under our boots, and the air turns my whole face red. Luckily, the chill dulls the pain a little, and I welcome it. My cheek still throbs from the malfunctioning gun that nearly burst in my hands, but the cold takes the edge off.
My neck is another story. I do not think there is any helping it. I can feel the violet bruise forming there already, and something tells me it intends to stick around for at least a couple of weeks.
The bright side is that I am still here.
I try to take that as a fact, not as something to celebrate too hard. I know I am supposed to take my predicament as it comes.
When we finally reach the road, I’m caught off guard.
“This is our car?” I ask, staring at a huge black bus.
Talon hoists me up to the entrance and pulls the door open. “It’s a long story,” he mutters. “Let’s get you inside first.”
The moment I step in, I spot two people I can’t decide whether I’m relieved to see or would’ve preferred never to see again. The murderer’s wife is there. The second murderer of the day. And Mark, the third murderer, if we’re keeping score.
A lovely welcoming committee.
They’re tied to their seats in two separate sections, muffles stuffed in their mouths. Mark has a black eye that’s already swelling down his cheek. I meet his gaze and lean against theseat two rows in front of him, not looking away as I lift an eyebrow.
“I’ve had a really shitty twenty four hours, Mark,” I say. “But believe it or not, I actually managed to completely forget you existed.”
He screams something through the muffle. I don’t bother listening. I slide over to the window and let the glass take my attention instead.
In the reflection, I look like shit. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever looked worse. My hair is greasy, my face is ghostly, and the whole of me looks worn out in a way that isn’t even remotely flattering.
I’m about to turn away when a screamer in the form of Alex pops up behind the window.
“Jesus Christ.” I jolt.
She floats through the glass and sits down next to me. Or, well, pretends to sit. You know how the whole metaphysical thing works.
“So, they’re both here,” she says, just as Nathaniel drags the male murderer inside. He hauls him past me and Alex, forces him into a seat at a safe distance from his wife and Mark, then starts tying him down. “Two disgusting swines.”
