Cole and Abraham launched toward me, concern etched deep in their features.
"Go!" I rasped, though my voice was ragged, my words failing me even as I tried to muster the command.
I told them to stay back.
I told them to stay the fuck back.
But the words came too late, and the world didn't give a shit.
The moment their feet shifted forward, blood-red spears rained like goddamn lightning bolts from hell—screaming from the sky and pinning them like rag dolls through broken brick and splintered wood. I saw Cole hit the side of an abandoned inn, the windows shattering under the weight of his crash. Abraham was flung straight through a tavern wall, his body dragged by barbed crimson wire, pinned like a crucified saint.
My stomach twisted. My ribs ached. I spat blood again—copper and bile on my tongue.
Fuck.