Page 459 of Coal Hearts

The urge to bend over and hug my bruised chest faded as Rachel cupped her belly, shielding her new pregnancy.

I sucked in shallow breaths as she bit her lower lip. Bracing her shoulders, she nodded. “You’re right. Victor might be psychotic, but he’s strangely fixated on rules. If you shoot us too, I doubt anyone else will have managed to shoot three jewels at close range. He’ll add up the bruises and announce you as the winner.”

None of us mentioned that the winner was entitled to do anything he wanted. And with how empty Henri looked, I honestly didn’t know how far he’d go.

He turned Kyle into ribbons.

“This is nuts.” I threw up my arms, immediately paying for the move with a flush of agony and that nasty stabbing in my side. “Let’s crack open a few balls and just smear the paint over you.”

“It has to be authentic.” Mollie stepped forward, jutting out her chest and presenting her faded bullseye. “The game is called Bruises, remember?”

I shook my head. “The colour doesn’t match. Henri was given orange paint.” I pointed at the area of his jeans that used to be tinged with brightness but only found blood. No sign of orange anywhere, thanks to him wearing every droplet of Kyle’s lifeforce.

“I don’t think it will matter.” Rachel dropped her arms and balled her hands. “Victor has a soft spot for him. I’ve never seen him be so tolerant to another Master before. That has to count for something.”

“What about Peter?” I glanced at our comatose friend. “We can’t shoot him while he’s borderline dead.”

Mollie nodded and pinned her brown eyes on Henri. “I agree with Ily. Just shoot us. Make every bullet count. But leave Peter alone.”

Henri merely nodded.

And then, he let fire.

The canister held far more rounds than I could’ve counted. His aim stayed accurate as he worked his way down each girl’s legs and then shot at their shoulders and arms. At the end, he shot once...directly at their bullseye. They staggered back in matching pain, but at least he hadn’t shot anywhere in their soft middles.

Who was this ice-cold man who moved like rigor mortis had set in, yet had the foresight not to hurt unnecessarily?

I wished Kyle had been that considerate.

Every organ throbbed. My liver and kidneys, stomach and womb. Perfectly round bruises swelled and grew hotter the deeper night fell.

Tossing the empty gun at Mollie, Henri muttered, “Bring that with us.” Then he strode toward the eviscerated corpse that used to be Kyle and hauled him over his shoulder like a dead deer.

My eyes widened as he headed toward the hidden exit where the other Masters had gone.

He disappeared, leaving the three of us to blink in exhaustion and try to figure out our next step.

I couldn’t get a read on him.

I daren’t ask him if he’d suddenly switched back to our side.

When he came back, minus a body, and headed toward the other Master he’d dispatched with a log to his head, he ordered, “Stay here.”

Those two words ignited a fire within us.

We didn’t listen.

All three of us fell into helping.

Henri staggered with his own injuries and exhaustion but didn’t order us to stop as Rachel and Mollie took a dead Master’s arm, and I helped Henri with the legs.

Silently, we’d carried the Master, slung like a hammock, out of the cave via a civilised tunnel and heaved our way up rough-hewn stairs that hinted the open-top cave was known and used, even if its wild appearance said otherwise.

Every step cost me.

Every shallow, painful breath not nearly enough for my winded, wounded frame.

I existed purely in the numbing shock of adrenaline.