Page 133 of Creatures that Breathe

Anger makes me see red.

She stumbles back, as shocked as I am.

I catch her, bloodstained fingers curling into the hem of her shirt. “Hold still,” I tell her, generating solutions.

I’ll carry her. We’ll find a medic.

I’ll become a fucking medic.

“I love you,” she repeats, voice strained, eyes hooded. Her shoulder droops to support the gash in her arm. She cringes, adjusts in my grip.

Pain explodes above my knee.

My leg buckles automatically, thrown back as a bullet eats through muscle and bone.

The red turns black.

Leni drops her smoking gun—my gun—to the ground as I collapse to my knees.

She shot me.

34

Leni

soggy grass and naked trees. Fitting

“I surrender,” I call out quickly, desperate to be heard before anyone can stop me.

Kneeling in the burned grass, Cross curses viciously, dull black shadows wisping off his hands, glossy crimson blood pouring from his thigh. Choking with anguish, he swipes for me. A last effort to protect me.

Silly little Kingsguard.

He’s been trying to protect me for weeks and trying to help everyone else for centuries, and it’s only hurt him.

In a rush, Sin presses steady hands into Cross’s spurting leg, directing a furious and beautiful glare at me as he pleads for Cross to cease moving.

Despite the agony and turmoil sinking in my stomach, I feel a tiny sense of relief when Atlas’s dark blue eyes meet mine. Silently conveying that he understands the sacrifice was necessary.

The spymaster will heal, Atlas seems to say. I’ll ensure it.

A couple punches and a turf war, and I think he and I are finally friends.

“Take him far away,” I order, my voice shaking with emotion. “Farther than you think. Take all of them.”

Only after Atlas nods do I firm my chin and turn to Kleio. “Take me to His Grace.”

The blonde grins wickedly, revealing white teeth as sharp as nails. “Hurry up, princess. Hubby’s waiting, and he’s not the patient sort.”

Drained, I propel myself forward, storming over the charred grass and sizzling debris, leaving behind the Blackguard to enter a fold of royal green. The entire yard smells like smoke and acrid burning plastic.

Thick, hot blood leaks across my pant leg, my fingers are numb, and every step feels like I’ve been hit by a truck, but I push through the pain.

I embrace it.

Blondie takes my arm, gentler than I expected, mindful of my injury. She whistles once and the sea of green leather clusters together, cowls and blades and efficiency.

“We’re done here,” the commander says, in a tone so unlike what she threw across the lawn, I do a double take. “I’ll deliver the goods. Everyone split. Leto stays with Sashira. No contact.”

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