Page 67 of Run Like the Devil

The action took me back to a place I didn’t want to go but couldn’t seem to avoid. I found myself back in that memory, the one Hubis had forced me to endure. The hand around my leg yanked, causing me to slide backward, the dirt scraping my knees.

Weight settled over me, knocking me to my stomach, and large, strong hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight. I kicked, managing only to roll over, the action placing me on my back once again.

This time, it was Gorrin over me. Fuck.

My brain was muddled and slow, as if a drunken hamster stumbled along in the wheel now. My thoughts drifted backward and forward, connecting all the dots.

The attack I’d experienced from Clint, the fight with Gorrin where I killed him, the memory of the attack I’d seen, the sex I’d had with Gorrin. It all mixed and melted together until it was just one big bowl of ‘fuck no.’ Until Gorrin’s face melted into that attack, until these creatures were the same ones from that memory of the attack.

I clawed at his arms, but he wouldn’t relent, would let me gasp in any air at all.

Was this it? Would I die here, in the Path, ending everything?

The world slowed around me, time crawling by. Was I seeing my life flash before my eyes a moment before my brain died, before the sparking electricity that ran my meat suit gave up and I turned to nothing?

What came after this life? No one knew. Maybe nothing, maybe a new world, maybe all that reincarnation shit wasn’t fake, and I’d get another shot at this all.

Did I want another shot? Fuck knew I hadn’t done great this time, but hell, maybe I’d learn some new tricks for the next round?

Except, faces floated by my dimming vision.

I saw Hale, back in that empty group home, all by himself, refusing to let anyone close to him. I saw Tyrus hating himself and working himself until he collapsed. I saw Gorrin, unsure who actually cared about him, or what he was supposed to be. I saw Yazmor, so desperate to fit in, to find a place where he belonged, yet so sure he never would. That was assuming the four of them could even return, but if brought down to only the four of them, the odds of that were slim.

It went beyond them, though.

I also saw Brendon, the kid I’d saved, devastated when Hale never returned to visit. I saw Jay trying to hold her family together, trying to learn to become the woman she needed to to take over, to protect everyone she cared for. I saw Kylie alone, wishing for connections to a world that wasn’t hers. Koya would lose his protection in the Chasm, leaving him at the whims of whoever took over for Tyrus. Myers would probably be fine—that asshole would probably let Bubbles take over and rule from the shadows.

For the first time, it really hit me how many people would be affected if I died here. In my first life, when I’d gotten murdered, the world had just kept on spinning.

No one cared. Not even Gunnar, not even the man I’d sold my soul for. No one had mourned me, no one had looked for me. I hadn’t been important enough for anyone to give a fuck about me.

That wasn’t true anymore, though. For better or worse, no matter how it had happened, the world would feel my loss this time.

And that meant I couldn’t just stay here and give in. I recalled my mom’s voice in my ear, calling me Salmon with that almost endearing tone of voice.

I’d wanted so badly to not matter, to keep my head down, but that hadn’t been what had happened. Instead, I’d endeared myself to this world, had made friends, allies, enemies and even lovers.

So many would suffer if I fell here.

And while I still might, I couldn’t just give in. My mom had always laughed about the fact that I never gave in, that I never went with the flow, that I always did things my own way. I’d told Gorrin the same thing, refused to give in.

The Path could want to kill me, but fuck what it wanted. I might not win, but I sure as hell wouldn’t make things easy on it. If it wanted to kill me, it would have to try a lot harder, and I’d make it bleed for every inch it took.

I curled my fingers into the dirt beside me and tossed it up and into faux-Gorrin’s eyes, closing my own at the same time. Nothing worse than blow-back.

The action loosened faux-Gorrin’s hands, but I didn’t use that break to try to knock him free as I’d done with faux-Yazmor. Nope. I’d been playing too nicely before. Instead, I reached up, knocking his hands from my throat with my arms, then went for Gorrin’s rapidly blinking eyes as he tried to clear the dirt from them.

I cupped the sides of his face and dug my thumbs into his eyes, the action both incredibly gross and against my every instinct.

Even if I knew it wasn’t my Gorrin, a part of me struggled to actually hurt him.

I could struggle all I wanted, though, because I wasn’t about to stop.

The evil-clone didn’t make a noise—but none of them had, not so much as a pained shout, nothing more than breathing—but he did yank backward and scramble away like a wounded animal.

I took the chance to leap to my feet and take off. I couldn’t out-dodge them forever, but I could run. Hell, I didn’t think f-Gorrin would even manage to follow given what I’d done to his eyes.

My feet struck the ground as I ignored any complaint in my body, any sluggishness from the fight, from the exceedingly long trip thus far. Nothing mattered but putting distance between those things and me.

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