Page 153 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

I know her.

She’s as familiar to me as my shadow.

Dogs pour into the warehouse. Five growling, attacking dogs, followed by alphas, omegas, and hope.

I can’t take my eyes off her.

Roseland

Isee the tiny figures in bird masks, and I want to cry.

“Enough, little birds,” I murmur.

I pull out a whistle that I’d hoped I would never have to use, and I blow into it. Raven had taught me the calls and trained me until I knew them back to front. She said I had to keep the whistle with me always. The Nightingales turn towards me.

Four small figures of various sizes, but nothing adult-sized. The smallest is sitting on the ground, her tiny bird skull mask pointed in my direction.

I walk over to them, keeping an eye on Merle, who is facing off with one of the figures who isn’t obeying the call.

Trust her.

It’s hard. Everything in me wants to go and save her, but she was trained. She is trained.

A hand grabs mine and squeezes tight. I look into the bird skull mask, surprised. “Are you Rose?”

“I am.”

She sobs and throws herself against my leg.

Holy crap, Raven made sure these kids knew who I was.

“Get the kids!” a voice shouts at me, one of the Flock.

Thirty men suddenly turn towards us, their faces fierce in the moonlight.

I look up and find Blaze dancing past me, slamming into a disciple who tries to shoot one of the kids in the head.

I grab the smallest kid and gesture to the others. “Come on, hurry.”

In the dark, it’s hard to move around the warehouse with any speed, especially with the place crawling with the Flock. They hunt us relentlessly. Every time we get close to an exit, they cut us off. My frustration mounts as I urge them to move faster.

A giant comes at the girls, and they react, laying him flat in seconds.

I forgot how dangerous they were.

Tiny, little, deadly birds.

They deserve homes and safety and all the things I’m going to make sure that Merle and her alters have.

I get the girls near the front of the warehouse when they stop dead, pulling back against me.

“Come on, let’s go,” I urge.

“No, you need to go back and save her. She will need you,” the oldest girl says.

“I need to get you safe,” I insist.

“We are, and we aren’t defenseless. Go and save Merle.”