Page 202 of Romancing in Rot

The broken pieces inside me shift. Not fixed. Never that easy. But held.

I bend toward her, and she throws both arms around my neck. I lift her onto my hip without thinking. Pain flares through my side. I don’t care.

She buries her face in my shoulder, trembling.

I hold her tighter. Not too tight. Never too tight. Just enough that she knows I have her.

My eyes burn.

I press my mouth to the top of her head, spread my hand across her back, and tap twice.

Always.

Clair stands a few feet away, watching us with blood on her face and tears in her eyes.

I reach for her.

She takes my hand immediately. Her fingers slide into mine, slick with blood but steady. I pull her in carefully, watching the way she winces, and tuck her against my other side. She presses her forehead to my chest beneath Poppy’s shoulder and exhales a breath filled with so much exhaustion.

I bend my head over them both.

Poppy safe in my arms. Clair breathing against me. My palm spread across Clair’s back, feeling every tremor she is trying to hide.

For a moment, it’s just us three.

No crowd. No Bryant. No bodies. No smoke or cooked flesh.

Only them.

Only the impossible fact that I got to them in time.

Clair lifts her face.

I press my forehead to hers.

I love you, I mouth.

Her fingers tighten in my shirt. “I know,” she whispers. “I love you too.”

Someone shouts near the fuel corridor, and the spell breaks.

Time to move.

I keep Poppy on my hip and Clair’s hand locked in mine as we start toward the exit. Jacob falls in beside us. Mom appears from the service hall with Earl, both of them pale and armed, Earl’s hand still wrapped around the timer remote like he’d love an excuse to use it. Lyla descends the stairs last with Trish, Carlos, and Joanie, all four backing down with weapons raised until they reach us.

The fuel cans roll ahead on the flatbed, wheels squeaking through blood and gore. One wheel bumps over a severed hand near the fountain, and the fingers twitch from the impact, scraping weakly against the tile like the dead mall itself is trying to hold us back.

Behind us, Bryant’s kingdom watches.

Hungry. Furious. Afraid.

We walk out of the mall with half their fuel, all our people, and Russ dead on the floor behind us.

I’ll take it as a win.

Until tomorrow.

THIRTY-EIGHT