Page 119 of Dirty Game

“No. Never.”

Korrin checks the hall, then signals all clear. “Time to go.”

I lift her, careful as I can. She weighs nothing. Just bones and blue eyes and pain.

She tries to stand, but her knees buckle. I hold her against my chest, blood soaking into my shirt. She doesn’t resist.

Her voice is so small I almost miss it. “I can walk.”

“You don’t have to.”

She presses her face to my neck, shivers. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Don’t thank me,” I say. “Just stay with me.”

We move out, every step away from the chair a victory.

The corridors are empty now. Dead men everywhere, but none that matter.

When we reach the surface, the rain is still coming down, hard and sharp. Rosalynn turns her face up into it, lets it wash the blood away.

We make it to the car, and Cyrus opens the back door. He doesn’t say a word, just wraps her in a thermal blanket and offers her a water bottle, but she doesn’t want it.

Korrin peels away in the lead car, already laughing at the thought of the next fight.

I slide in beside Rosalynn, close the door, and hold her until the shaking stops.

She keeps her hand on top of mine, needing that kind of support.

Blood leaks slowly through the towel I wrap around her wrists. I can feel every tremor, every jolt in her body as we move.

She’s awake, barely. Eyes half-open, unfocused. Her breath saws in and out, every inhale a fight.

She’s shivering now. I wrap both arms around her, trying to share the heat, but she just curls up tighter. The blanket slips off her shoulder, revealing purple and yellow blooms all down her arm.

“You’re hurt,” I say, uselessly. What the fuck else could I say? They hurt my woman.

Revenge is sweet, but death will be sweeter.

She snorts. “No shit.”

Cyrus turns around from the front seat, eyes sharp. “There’s a safehouse ten minutes from here. Korrin will meet us there. You have to keep pressure on her hand.”

I nod, but Rosalynn is already fading. Her head drops to my chest, lips moving in a silent recitation.

I tilt her face up, make her look at me. “Stay with me, Rosalynn. Stay awake, my girl.”

She blinks, pupils huge. “Why?”

“Because I’m not losing you.”

Her mouth twitches, almost a smile. “You’re scared.”

“I’m never scared,” I say, but my voice shakes.

Her fingers dig weakly into my shirt. “Let me be weak,” she whispers, so soft I almost miss it. “So I can be strong again.”

It floors me. I’ve never heard her ask for anything.