56. Don’t Be Dead! Please!
FIFTY-SIX
DON’T BE DEAD! PLEASE!
Seven
I pressed the tip of the bar into his right eye, slowly, savoring the pop and spray of blood. Pressing further, deeper, piercing his brain.
I felt it. The moment his body finally gave up. I stood, dropping the bar. His head lolled to the side, the bar stuck in his eye socket. It clattered as it hit the floor.
The floor jolted violently, throwing me sideways, my shoulder crashing into the wall. The rubble pile slid, exposing enough at the top for me to squeeze through.
I launched myself up the pile, diving for the gap. I didn’t glance backward at the mess I’d left of Baxter. He didn’t deserve a second more of me.
On the other side, I started running, ignoring the pangs of pain everywhere. I’d need rest to regenerate from all these injuries. But I had no time for that.
Had Jack been taken from this place? Was he safe?
If he was with Mercer, there was little chance of it.
The further I ran, though, the more aware I became of the itch. It spread fast until every inch of my skin was crawling with it.
I slowed, rubbing at my naked, bloody, filthy body. But it wasn’t the grime caked on my skin that was causing this discomfort.
He’s back there , the whisper confirmed exactly what I already knew.
I spun, loping back the way I came. I was very nearly at the end of that burst of furious energy.
But Jack was back here.
I’d know if he was dead, wouldn’t I? I asked the whisper.
Her silence sent ice settling in the pit of my stomach. I pushed myself faster.
“Jack!” I screamed jaggedly as the building shook again, more debris collapsing from above, more cracks appearing below. “Jack!”
Nothing. No sound. Except the now constant, groaning rumble of a structure under too much pressure.
My heart was under too much pressure.
He’s alive. I’d know if he’d died.
Without the Join, you might not , the whisper informed me coolly.
I kept running back to that room and the pile of rubble.
The wreckage had shifted again in the latest explosion, opening up the narrow gap back into the room and thankfully covering Baxter’s mangled remains. I didn’t regret for one second what I’d done to him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be face-to-face with it again.
“Jack!” I called, pressing a hand to the wall as the room shivered. It wasn’t an explosion causing this tremor. It was the building giving up.
Shit.
I needed to find him.
“Jack! Where are you?” I screamed frantically. I turned to the pile of debris. There was nowhere else he could be.
He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not …
Desperately, I scrabbled at the pile, picking the chunks I could manage away and tossing them down. Another tremor. The pile slid, me with it.
I scrambled to stay on top as it shifted under me. Wounds that had started to close broke open anew, blood slicking my palms and making gripping anything too slippery.
Then, a piece under my hand moved. It fell away to reveal a flash of gold hair.
“Jack!” I shrieked, heaving pieces away from that tiny hint of him. There was his arm, contorted over him like he’d thrown it up to protect himself from the ceiling collapsing.
A ragged wail burst out of me, and I kept digging, nails tearing, smearing more blood over the wreckage. Tears blurred my vision.
“Don’t be dead! Please! Don’t be—”
His face. His beautiful face. Eyes closed. Blood everywhere.
So still. Too still.
I dropped my head into my hands and sobbed.