Page 182 of Romancing in Rot

Her glare sharpens.

In the crowd, Bryant smiles wider, amused by the cruelty. Russ’s face flickers. Discomfort. Not guilt. Never guilt. Just the inconvenience of being forced to watch what he helped feed.

I scoff. “No wasted meat, huh?”

Rhea lunges again.

I let her come, buying the seconds I need. Every second I make her chase me is a second Leon gets closer. Every bruise, every cut, every breath I drag from her gives him more time to find us.

Rhea swings. I dodge. She kicks, and I stumble back. She grabs for my throat, but I twist and rake my nails across her face. Skin splits under my nails, four red lines opening from cheekbone to jaw. She howls and backhands me hard enough to send blood from my mouth onto the tile.

The crowd screams, half booing, half laughing, hungry for anything that bleeds. Somewhere above us, someone bangs a pipe against the railing. The sound rings through the mall like a bell.

My lungs burn. My legs shake.

Rhea sees it.

Her eyes drop to my thigh, and her smile comes back.

She knows.

She kicks my bad leg.

Pain explodes up my side. I go down on one knee, biting back a scream. Rhea grabs the back of my neck and shoves me toward the tile. My palms slap into blood. My knee slides. For one dizzy second, my face is inches from the floor, close enough to smell copper, bile, old bleach, and the greasy film of whatever the hell they cook in here.

Shit.

If they take you down, take something with you.

I throw my weight sideways and hook my arm around Rhea’s leg. She loses balance. We crash together, her knee slamming into the floor beside my ribs. I drive my elbow into the side of her kneecap.

She howls.

I scramble on top of her.

She bucks hard, nearly throwing me. Her hands go for my throat, thumbs digging beneath my jaw. Air cuts off. The world narrows to her face below me, teeth bared, blood running over her lips. Her eyes are wild with grief and rage and something that looks too much like joy.

My hands claw at her wrists.

Too strong.

Poppy screams again.

I stop fighting her hands and lunge downward.

My teeth sink into her ear.

Rhea screams.

I bite down harder.

Cartilage tears between my teeth with a hot, rubbery rip. Blood floods my mouth, metallic and foul, so thick it coats my tongue. The crowd erupts, but the sound comes from far away now. Rhea releases my throat and tries to shove my face away.

Too late.

I tear my head back.

Part of her ear comes with me.