Page 205 of Red Ruin

Deeper.

Colder.

The tunnel slopes slightly left—tilting toward the lich king’s position.

Simms is drilling a fucking express elevator to its prison.

I grab Remy’s shirt. “Take me there.”

In a quickpop, the three of us reappear deep underground. The earth shakes, but shadows hold me steady.

“Baby. Stop.Please.” Tan’s frantic pleas echo in the dark.

“Give me a light?” I ask.

Vhex tosses a ball of hellfire that sticks to the uneven wall.

Tan pushes until he’s diagonal. His boots slide in the churning dirt, but he can’t budge Simms.

The Sentinel won’t respond.

I suck a breath.

We can’t donate an S-class to the lich king’s army.

I disentangle from Vhex and Remy.

Just like I’m guiding a Sentinel in battle, I position myself behind Tan. He jumps at my touch.

“Don’t stop.” I press my palms to his back. “Fight for your Sentinel.”

“I’m fuckingfighting,” Tan grits, straining so hard that he trembles.

“Remy,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Help us steady Simms.”

Shadows caress my skin, flowing past me to pin Simms in place.

Tan almost collapses when he stops pushing, but another shadow plucks his collar before I have to prop him up.

“Simms isn’t going anywhere. Take a breath. I’ll talk you through what you have to do.” I use my gentlesttalking-Vhex-down-from-mass-murdervoice, trying to be reassuring.

Tan doesn’t have time to take a breath. We’re sliding downward through the earth. The temperature drops.

Soon, even I can feel Simms’s power pulsing.

He’s about to rampage.

“Start talking.” Tan grabs his Sentinel’s jaw. Hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead.

“Follow his normal power flow with your silks until you find one of those cold, creepy death threads.”

Tan squeezes his eyes shut. “I can find it, but I can’t fuckingfixit.”

“That’s half the work.” I rub his shoulders, trying to keep him calm. “Wrap the threads in your silks the same way you’d clear a tangle. But instead of healing it yourself, just guide Simms’s power to attack.”

“Just?” Tan’s voice rises, and he glares over his shoulder. “Our imprint is too new. I can’t?—”

“You have to,” I say calmly.

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