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“GET IT OUT!”

I claw at my chest.

My nails rake across my skin as another black line snakes between my ribs.

“GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF ME!”

“Sage!”

Ezra’s voice breaks somewhere nearby, but I can barely hear him.

The roots keep climbing.

One curls beneath my breast.

Another winds around my ribs.

Then something tightens deep inside my chest.

My breath catches.

Once.

Twice.

A horrible pressure closes around my heart.

I go completely still.

Oh God.

Mercy.

I saw this. I saw what came next.

The roots enter.

They climb.

Your blood first.

Then your organs.

Your heart.

My voice comes out small and broken.

“No.”

The Harvest isn’t trying to make me carry something.

It’s trying to make me carry it.

Ezra reaches the altar. He grabs my hand. “Look at me.”

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

“SAGE.”