Page 126 of Grim

I don’t fight as D grips me by my biceps and pulls me toward the stairs.

I say nothing. But I swear by every grave I’ve dug, every soul I’ve ferried, every curse I’ve ever muttered into the mouth of night, I will not forget this.

And I will not forgive.

DoggedandDog-Eared

She’s screaming before her feet even touch the floorboards.

“Take me back. Take me back right now!”

The sound rips out of her high and hoarse. I barely manage to steady her as her fists collide with my chest, again and again. Her hits are ineffective, but she swings like she means it.

Her whole body shakes with the effort. A firm squeeze of her shoulders slows the punching, and then her fingers curl into claws, nails digging into the lapels of my coat.

“You don’t get to do this!” she shouts, voice cracking like fractured glass. “You don’t get to decide!”

Each word tears a piece off her—more gasped than spoken, more sob than sentence. Her face is wet and red, hair falling wild around her cheeks, and I swear I’ve never seen someone look more alive and more broken in the same breath.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” I mutter, hands bracing her shoulders, trying to keep her upright. “Calm down. Easy—”

“Don’t,” she hisses. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

She throws herself at me again, but her knees buckle the moment she moves. I barely catch her.

A wet cough racks her chest. It doubles her over, andshe curls in on herself like she’s trying to hold her insides together.

“Rue,” I say, my tone patient and pleading.

She twists out of my hold, creating distance between us again, like touching me burns her.

Her eyes are unfocused. She reminds me of a rabbit with nowhere left to run. Rage and heartbreak and raw terror rolling through her in waves. Her breath comes too fast, too shallow. Her lips have gone pale.

“I hate you,” she whispers. “You’re a coward. You let them take him. You let them take me.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” I state the obvious, though I wish it lessened its sting.

“Idon’t care!” she wails. “I should’ve died with him!”

She sways.

I step forward, arms out, but she slaps my chest, one last useless hit before her hands slide off me.

The fight leaves her, or she leaves the fight. Whichever happens, the effect is the same. She drops like marionette strings have been cut, a piteous pile on the floor.

“Sad mortal,” I sigh before crouching down.

She does not respond to my nearness or my touch. She has gone numb. Her back rising and falling sporadically indicates she is still breathing.

With one hand on her back, I bring the other to the top of her chest and pull her body upright. That hand travels to her sternum. Her heartbeat thrashes like a fly trapped in a glass jar.

Her eyes are open, but she is unresponsive. Without Kane, the fight has left her, and now she is simply a shell.

“Hey.” I tap her cheek gently. “Where’s that stubborn little spitfire the good Doc went and cracked his black heart open for? Hmm?”

She doesn’t answer, still trapped in the middle distance. She sighs a ragged breath as I scoop her into my arms.

“Let’s get you somewhere a bit more comfortable, yeah?”