Page 17

JACE

T he rotter collapses in a twitching heap with my knife still buried deep in its skull.

It jerks once, then goes still. Blood spreads beneath what’s left of the man it tore apart, if it can still be called a man.

What’s left is pulp and ruin. Torn muscle.

Shattered bone. No face anymore. A pile of meat with flies already buzzing around the carcass.

Autumn doesn’t move. She stands frozen beside me. Her face is pale and her eyes wide and locked on the carnage. Her breath comes fast and shallow.

She looks at me. “Why did you wait so long? You could have saved him.”

“He was already a dead man the second he pointed that gun at you.” My voice sounds distant and detached, even to me, but the words betray how she’s been getting under my skin with each moment I’m with her, and unraveling pieces I thought were long buried.

I don’t know why the hell I paired us together. Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe I wanted to stay in her light a little longer. Even if it burns.

The scrape of shuffling feet cuts through the silence and echoes through the long tunnel .

Shit.

“Move,” I growl out.

Autumn jerks into motion and we sprint through the cavernous train station with our boots slapping across broken tile and scattered gravel.

The rotter’s moans echo behind us. I grab her good hand and yank her toward the terminal exit, but another group of rotters pours from the tunnel access on the left.

It becomes a sea of gray skin, open mouths, and empty eyes barricading us in.

“Left,” I snap. That bastard’s gun going off attracted far more attention than I feared.

We veer hard into a dim hallway, dodging scattered glass, random limbs, and twisted metal.

The lights overhead flicker, casting everything in jittering shadows.

Autumn stumbles once and her palm slips in mine, but I squeeze tighter.

No way in hell I’m letting go. I’ll carry her the whole damn way if I have to.

Another rotter bursts from a side door. I react on instinct and slam it against the wall before driving my blade into its skull.

The sound of bone crunching fills the corridor.

Something sparks behind the rotter and I glance up to see a busted electrical panel with exposed wires. The short circuit flares.

Shit.

There’s a blinding flash and the sharp pop of electric fire. It’s small and flickers out within seconds, but still. The heat, the scent, and the crackling hiss crawl down my spine with the memories it brings.

“Wait,” Autumn says with a stop so abrupt she nearly yanks my arm from its socket. Her eyes fix on the sparking panel, then they dart to a red emergency box mounted on the wall. “I have an idea.”

“Autumn, we don’t have time?—”

But she’s already moving. She rips open the emergency box and yanks out what looks like an old flare.

“This whole place is falling apart. Gas lines, electrical, it’s a powder keg waiting to blow.

” She grins, and there’s something wild and brilliant in her eyes.

“All we need is to give it a little encouragement.”

She strikes the flare against the rough concrete. It hisses to life, bathing us in a red light.

“You’re insane,” I breathe, but I’m already pulling her toward the exit. We won’t need an explosion if we can get through that door.

“Maybe,” she says before tossing the flare back toward the sparking panel and a section where I can smell the distinct odor of a gas leak. “But it’ll work.”

We run hard and fast, putting as much distance between us and the station as possible. Behind us, the rotter’s moans grow louder as they funnel into the corridor. The explosion comes thirty seconds later.

The blast wave hits my back. The sound is deafening, a roar of fire and collapsing concrete that drowns out everything else. I grab Autumn and throw us both against the nearest wall as debris rains down around us.

When the rumbling stops, I look back. Half the station is engulfed in flames, and I can smell the rotters burning, but it’s the crackle of the fire that fills my vision and yanks the memories from the cage I keep them locked up in.

My chest tightens, but I force myself to focus on Autumn, who’s grinning like she just won the lottery. She’s a fucking maniac.

“That should slow them down,” she says, wiping soot from her cheek.

“Dammit, fire demon, there’s no time to stop and play,” I bite out, but I can’t fight off my body’s reaction to the flames.

We keep moving, but my hands shake when we run. The hallway narrows ahead, and the air grows thicker with every breath. My vision dims and my body locks up. My legs may as well be trying to swim through quicksand .

Not again. Not here. Not now.

A scream rips through my memory, followed by another.

Smoke. So much smoke.

Autumn tugs at my hand. “Jace. Jace!”

Her voice cuts through the smoke. It’s frantic, but my body won’t move.

Run.

I try to say the command, but it comes out a croak. My throat locks. My lungs won’t pull air. The flames are going to spread. They’re going to get her, like they got him, and I won’t be able to do anything but stand here and watch.

“Go. Now,” I finally manage.

But she doesn’t run. Of course she doesn’t. She’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. Can’t she see I’m dying here while trying to save her?

Her fingers clamp around my shaking wrist. “No. I’m not leaving you. It’s gone, Jace. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Look at me.”

The heat is too close. The screams echo in my skull. The smoke is thick, crawling down my throat, dragging me under?—

“Jace, look at me!”

Her grip jerks hard. Her voice is the only thing tethering me to this fractured reality.

I fight to obey. Force my gaze to meet hers. Wide, fierce, and unflinching.

And just like that, the flames in my head flicker. The tunnel snaps back into focus.

The threat disappears. The rotters are buried under rubble, and there isn’t a fire with the flames licking at my skin or the smoke filling my lungs when it escapes the shed.

There’s nothing. Almost as though it never happened.

I let her drag me away.

We run again .

Past the collapsed beams and the rusting signs. Through a maintenance corridor, leaping over half-eaten bodies.

We shove through a door barely hanging on its hinges and burst into the fresh late afternoon air.

The light blinds me for a second after the dimness of the tunnel, but I welcome it.

By the time we stumble to a stop behind the station, I double over with my hands on my knees and my lungs dragging in the air like it’s my first real breath in hours.

Autumn leans against the wall beside me.

Her face is streaked with sweat, grime, and a few drops of blood from the man we watched die. At least the blood isn’t hers.

I turn and look back at the station, expecting more flames, more smoke, and more death, but only a small section burns. It’s contained and controlled by her precise destruction. There’s no spreading inferno. I stare anyway, waiting for flames that never come.

Autumn steps close and lays a hand on my arm. “What happened back there?”

My throat struggles to work, and it takes a few seconds to find the words. “There was going to be a fire. It was all lined up. It should have caught everything.”

I can’t explain the relief that it didn’t, but that’s overshadowed by my confusion.

The fire. The smoke. It was there. I saw it…didn’t I?

She glances at the building, then back at me.

She steps closer, so her beautiful face blocks the station from view, mere inches from mine.

Wind shifts and catches a strand of her purple hair, sweeping it across her cheek.

She reaches for me with both hands, coming up to cup my face.

Her fingers are warm and her thumbs rest along my jaw. She doesn’t speak at first.

Her eyes widen and lock on mine, and I study each detail of her hazel eyes. They’re bright with an emotion I can’t name. How have I never noticed how bright her eyes are ?

The wind tugs another strand of hair, and it catches on her bottom lip. Her voice softens when she speaks. “Are you okay?”

The simplest question, yet the hardest to answer.

I reach up and touch her face. My thumb skims the curve of her jaw before setting the strand of hair free from her lip. “I’ll never let the fire touch you.” My eyes close at the memory that haunts my every waking moment. “Flames will never burn your flesh. Not while I’m still breathing.”

Her brows crease in worry and confusion. She has such pretty brows. They’ll never be marred by flames. Not like mine.

“Jace…”

“I mean it.” I rest my forehead against hers. Her breath is warm. Her lips are so close I could tilt an inch and—“I’ll protect you from all of it. From the people hunting you. From the rotters. From the world. Even from myself.”

Her breath hitches. “Jace…”

I pull back and press my lips to the soft skin of her forearm, right above the bandage. “I’ll protect you even if I can never have you. That’s a promise.”