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I quickly scan my surroundings for the source and spot a couple of splatters, so I follow them.

Since they lead around the train, I glance up the hill, and seeing Dray’s silhouette, I beckon to him.

He immediately sides down, silently moving to my side.

I jerk my head at the blood, and he nods, grabbing two big ass lethal knives from his sheaths.

Crouching down when we reach the corner of the turned over train, I peek around the edge before pulling my head back.

Moving slowly, so we do not announce ourselves, I look again, noting the body of a man leaning up against the train not too far away.

He’s covered in blood, so I can’t tell if he is dead or alive.

A woman is on her side farther up, but I can’t make out much else.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone around though.

Could they have been attacked by a scav? Hunting party? Rogues?

Fuck it.

Standing, I stride around the corner, keeping my eye out for any movements in case it’s a trap.

I stop in front of the man and Dray turns his back to me, spreading his arms to keep watch so I can check the man over.

His eyes are shut, and one is swollen and purple.

He has a split lip, his cheekbone is cut, and his face is dotted with blood steadily dripping from an unseen wound in his brown hair.

The previously white shirt he’s wearing is torn and stained red, clinging to his stocky build.

His trousers are cargo pants and dark, bunched up strangely.

When I look closer, I realise why they look so wrong.

Fucking hell.

Holding in my gag, I reach out and push up the loose ends to check and…

yes, I’m right. His legs from the knees down are missing, ripped away, it looks like, and blood is pooling underneath him.

It’s been hours, maybe not even that, since they were taken from him.

When he doesn’t move, I lean closer to check his pulse.

Fuck, I kind of hope he’s dead. This must have been unimaginable agony for him. When my fingers touch his cold, clammy neck, his eyes fly open and a whine leaves his lips. I freeze.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” I murmur softly.

He darts a look around and tries to move, but a scream erupts from his cracked lips, cutting off as he chokes on his own blood. I wince and wait for it to pass, not having any water to offer him, plus, it wouldn’t make any difference, he’s dying.

“Rosalina,” he croaks when he can finally speak, his voice weak and weedy.

“Rosalina?” I echo, scrunching my nose.

He looks to the side with heartbreak written in his eyes, and I follow his gaze to the woman close by.

I can see from here that her chest isn’t rising and falling, so I know she’s dead, but I stand up anyway and go to check her.

She’s naked from the waist up, and her trousers are intact, but her shirt is nowhere to be seen.

Long, thick cuts mar her back, layered over older scars.

She was a fighter, a survivor. I lean down and press my fingers to her pulse, but feel nothing.

I turn her slightly and gasp, closing my eyes for a moment before I find the courage to open them again.

Half of her face is ripped away, her eye socket bare and lips half chewed. No blade did this, teeth did.

Cannibals.

I lay her gently back down and rush over to the man. Tears well in his eyes and his gaze seems glued to the woman. “What happened?” I ask gently.

“They—” He coughs again, blood rattling wetly. “They attacked us. I thought we were safe for a few hours of sleep, but I was wrong. They came in the night… must be their territory.” He closes his eyes for a moment before looking back at me. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I answer bluntly.

He nods, leaning his head back against the metal of the train. “She’s my sister,” he whispers, sounding pained. He blows out a breath and looks over at me, his eyes pleading. “Kill me, please.”

I thin my lips and he smiles sadly at me, showing me missing teeth and a mouth caked in blood. “I don’t want to be sitting here waiting for them to come back and eat the rest of me. I’m going to die anyway, let it be on my terms. Kill me,” he urges, his voice stronger this time.

“Soulmate?” Dray murmurs from behind me.

“Are you sure?” I query, needing to know.

“Yes, I don’t have a weapon to do it myself, broke mine in one of the bastards. Kill me, please, kill me,” he begs, sobs racking his body.

He’s right, he’s going to die. It’s his choice to decide how—wait to be eaten alive, die from blood loss, or let me kill him.

I won’t let him suffer any longer. I slip a knife from my belt while he isn’t watching and quickly stab it into his neck and pull it out.

Blood spurts straight away, letting me know I struck true.

It takes a minute for the light in his eyes to dim and then wink from existence. At least he’ll be with his sister now.

I stand up and sheathe my blade. Fury, worry, and tension run through me, a volatile mix I need to get out.

“I need to kill something,” I spit.

“The cannibals can’t be far. They wouldn’t have left fresh kills and meat. Let’s go hunting,” he suggests, and I nod eagerly.

I throw the two corpses another look before stepping up behind Dray, my sword in hand as I follow him.

There’s a bloody handprint on the door farther down the train.

I tap Dray’s shoulder and he follows my gaze, a grin lighting up his face as he heads over.

We each take a different side of the door, looking at each other.

I nod and he rips it open as we spin to stare inside.

I don’t bother crouching, they don’t have weapons apart from their teeth, but they’re fast and we need to be ready to strike.

The light streams in from the sun behind us as an awful, rotting stench hits me, making my eyes water and my nose burn. Fuck. I squint into the darkness and then freeze, spotting the shifting bodies and shadows in the deep recess of the carriage. I step back and Dray copies my movement.

“You ready?” I ask.

He grins, holding his knives. “Fuck yes.”

I hit the side of the train with my sword, the clang loud on the metal.

“Feeding time, you creeps!” I scream as loud as I can, before Dray and I step back again, rearranging ourselves side by side.

I hear them first, sniffing and panting, their feet and hands dragging on the metal lining the inside of the train.

I wait with bated breath as excitement courses through me from the imminent fight.

One of them sticks their head out, its eyes unfocused and nostrils flaring, catching scent of us before it growls.

I part my legs farther, giving myself a more stable stance, and wait as he snarls and jumps, aiming for us.

More stream from the train, drawn by the first and our scent, heading straight towards us.

I start swinging, losing myself in the feel of my blade cutting through the monsters, their howls of pain and screeches of anger driving me on.

Dray and I dance side by side, moving like we have been fighting together all of our lives.

I throw a knife into a cannibal’s skull when it sneaks too close to him, and he yanks me around to avoid the teeth of another.

We move, we kill, and we fight, and before I know it, we’re standing in the middle of a pile of dead cannibals.

I scan the ground and train, looking for any that escaped, but it looks like we got them all.

My eyes catch on Dray’s to see him watching at me.

We’re both covered in blood with our chests heaving, sweat dripping down our faces and, suddenly, we are racing towards each other.

Colliding with our need, our lips crash together.

We let each other know we are alive with our kiss, riding the exhaustion and lust that comes from surviving and killing.

We only pull back when we have to breathe.

“Dray, Worth? You down there? Time to go!” comes Archel’s yell.

We share a grin as we sheathe our weapons. “Come on, soulmate, time to ride.”

“Filthy bastard,” I mutter, and a startled laugh bursts out of him as he helps me over the dead corpses and around the train. Twining our fingers together, he swings our arms between us as he whistles.

Crazy motherfucker.