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A foreboding shiver passes over me.

If that gets back to the media, the world will soon know I’m no longer his captive.

I force backa cry when I stare down at Pestilence’s makeshift grave. He’s nearly unidentifiable, his body awash in blood, dirt, and pulpy, fleshy things.

I don’t want to move him out of fear that I’ll hurt him.

Townspeople will come back. You may only have minutes.

That’s what gets me going.

Setting the gun aside, I crouch next to the grave and hook my arms beneath Pestilence’s armpits.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

And then I begin to pull.

He lets out an agonized cry, the sound garbled by his ruin of a mouth, as I heave him out of his tomb. A silent tear trickles out of the corner of my eye at the noise.

If only my earlier self could see me now. How far I’ve fallen, crying over a thing that can’t die. Over the very thing I was supposed to kill. And look at me now—I’m pointing guns at anyone who tries to take him from me.

Ever so slowly, I tug Pestilence out of the earth. Trixie kneels next to me, the steed anticipating his rider’s needs. I drag the horseman’s body onto the saddle.

Not going to be very comfortable, but it will have to do.

Settling myself behind him, I again click my tongue. Trixie rises to his feet, the two of us balanced on his back, then the steed takes off.

Several shots ring out, and I flatten myself over the horseman as the bullets whiz by me. I glance over my shoulder. The men that I’d so recently driven away now run back into the street from wherever they tucked themselves away, training their guns on us.

Shit.

I jerk on one side of the reins, pulling Trixie’s head to the side, steering us off course. Pestilence’s body slides a little, and it takes most of my strength to keep the horseman on his horse. But at least the bullets meant for me and Trixie miss us.

I yank on the other side of the reins, forcing the horse to change his trajectory again, zig-zagging across the road until the gunshots fall to silence. When I look over my shoulder again, the men in gas masks are out of range.

Safe. We’re safe—for now.

I don’t dareslow the horse until the town is far behind us. Once I do, it’s only so that I can scour our surroundings for a house. Considering my shitty luck today, I’m probably going to choose a home with the meanest asshole living inside it. Without Pestilence to strike the fear of God in him, who knows just how bad the situation might get.

I suck in a deep breath. There’s just no helping the situation.

I end up picking a home that’s directly off the road, hoping whoever lives there is long gone. It takes an agonizingly long time to get inside, but on a positive note, the place has been vacated.

I lead Trixie through the door after me, careful to not jostle Pestilence’s slumped body in the process. It’s only once I’ve moved the steed next to the couch that I drag the horseman off. He slides into my arms, knocking me off balance, and the two of us collapse in a heap on the couch.

Real smooth there, Burns.

I wiggle myself into a comfortable position beneath Pestilence, feeling his blood begin to seep into my clothing from his various wounds.

Now that I’m holding him, I find I can’t let him go. His face is still mangled, and it’s been further obscured by the dirt matted to his skin.

With a shaky hand, I run my knuckles over a section of cheek that’s still intact.

You fool. You’ve gone and fallen for this thing.

He moves in my arms, and I nearly yelp. I’d almost forgotten thathe’s still in there. Still aware of what’s going on. I feel bile rise at the thought.

To think I did worse to Pestilence than even those men.