Page 58 of A Murder of Crows

Tony is white as he shakes my shoulders. I think he’s on his knees, can see the last of the fight behind him, figures darting in and out of the trees. “Jesus – help!”

I shake my head, trying to clear the buzzing as more voices join, more faces stare down at me. “Did you get them?”

They stare, and I try to say it again. “Did you get them?”

The words don’t sound right. Garbled and strange, like each word is too long to fit inside my mouth. But Tony understands. “Y-yes. We got them. Two dead. One down.”

Three.

That’s not very fucking fair.

I hold up five fingers. “Give… me—,”

“Clear the space!” Tony bellows. “Get Domenico. Nobody in or out.”

His fingers gently probe at the broken skin at my neck, and he hisses between his teeth. “This looks really bad. You need a hospital.”

My head shakes. “F-four.”

Four minutes. Four minutes of focusing on forcing the air in and out, of adjusting to the pain in my neck. The numbness in my limbs recedes, replaced by a burning sensation.

“Your eyes, Cat,” Tony whispers shakily. “They – the blood vessels—,”

I nod to show my understanding. His face becomes a little clearer.

I feel… broken. Like maybe I do need a hospital.

But there’s something else I have to do first.

My four minutes vanish too soon. “Help… me up.”

There's barely any volume to my rasping voice. Tony goes to lift me, but someone else gets there first.

“I’ve got you,” Dom murmurs. He slides his hands under me, and I’m not sure if the shaking is from me or from him. “Steady.”

As he gently lifts me, holding me up, I regret trying to move. I fold in half, retching, as Dom gathers my hair. Liquid spatters across the hard, packed ground courtesy of my caffeine diet. Biting back a whimper at the pain in my throat, I straighten. Tony looks away from me, as if embarrassed.

And now I’mreallyfucking angry.

“Where?” I ask – whisper – and Tony nods behind me. With Dom’s help, I take a few shaky steps, testing my balance. I’m going to need it.

When the pins and needle recede, I tap on his arm. “Ok.”

He releases me without question, and I slowly walk over to where the Asante kneels on the ground. The barrel of a gun presses against the side of his head, and he spits at the ground when he sees me. The noose he used to drag me across the floor is in front of him. “Fucking devil bitch. Why won’t you just die?”

I feel like I might topple over, so I stay where I am. “Sorry to disappoint.”

The bodies of the two men who attacked mine lie next to him, and his eyes keep landing on them, bouncing away. “Go on, then.”

He expects me to kill him.

I hold out my hand, and someone presses a gun into it. Curling my finger around the trigger, I gesture. “Put the rope around your neck.”

He hesitates, then. Panicked eyes darting around, as if the knowledge is sinking in. “I—,”

When I nod, Dom steps out from beside me. He picks up the rope, turning it over in his hands. There’s violence in his face as he pushes it over the male’s head, pulling the noose tight until he wheezes for breath. Tighter.

“Enough.”