Page 58 of Under Fyre

A rock slams into the windshield, cracks it apart. Snow and tufts of dead grass tumble into my face. I’m weightless again, the world spinning.

I gasp, but I can’t make a sound.

There’s only tearing metal, grinding dirt, tinkling glass.

Then a crash that goes through me like a sonic boom.

A sharp, pained bark rings out.

Then voluminous silence.

When I blink, the world goes dark for an eon. When I open my eyes, sunlit snow spears into my pupils. There’s a pink film over everything, and from the copper stench in the air it can only be blood. My head feels too full, heavy and bloated, and my arms dangle down to the ground.

Blink.Light.

Blink.Darkness.

A tiny whimper, so so far away.

The cold is everywhere now. On my skin, in my hair, digging deep into my bones

Dig deeper, Charlotte. Dig until you see bone.

I can’t, Gideon. There’s nothing left.

My eyes flutter closed, and then I’m stretching like gum, reaching for that blissful surrender, that all-encompassing oblivion. It’s right there, so close. I just have to grab it.

And I do.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Charlotte

Someone’s licking my hand. No, not someone. Something. That tongue is too rough to belong to a human. My eyes flicker open and then immediately squeeze shut. It’s not as bright as earlier, but there’s something wrong with my eyes. They’re supersensitive, dry, crusty.

I realize why a few seconds later when I finally manage to lift my hand and touch my face. My skin is coated with a sticky residue. In some places it’s dried, turning stiff. When I rub it, it leaves flakes of rust on my fingers.

Blood.

My head starts pounding. Or maybe I only just realized that it’s been doing that all along.

I open my eyes again, focus on Arrow. She’s lying under me, blood on her fur, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. But she’s not panting.

Probably because it’s fucking freezing in here.

Wind gusts into the shattered remains of the truck’s cab, bringing with it a flurry of snowflakes. They drift in and settle against Arrow’s fur, which is already bristling with crystallized ice.

“Hey,” I croak, my hand dropping down again. “Are you okay?”

Arrow whines, licks my fingertips. But she doesn’t attempt to stand.

Carefully, I turn my head to the side. My heart thumps when I see the driver’s seat is empty.

Did Fyre leave us here in the cold? Or was he ripped out of the car when we rolled?

I groan and muster up as much courage and strength as I can to work on my seatbelt. My chest feels numb where the belt cuts into my flesh, and I’m worried I might lose a tit to fucking gangrene if I don’t get free.

My fingers are weak and stiff as I try to press down the button to release the belt, but eventually I get it right.

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