Page 149 of Ashes of Honor

“Fix it!” I snapped.

Finley held up the device, shaking it as though it might somehow wake up. “It’s missing a piece. I can’t.”

“Then run.”

The pit’s edge loomed a few feet ahead—close enough to see, yet impossibly far. Pansies stirred behind us, the sound a sickening symphony of grinding bone and wet, rasping growls. It would be a fight to get out, not to mention the nearly twelve feet we’d have to climb to pull ourselves free. With the way the earth had given out on the other side, climbing wasn’t the most stable choice.

“You need the running start,” Finley said, halting abruptly. Her voice was tight, trembling beneath the forced calm. “Pull me up.”

I stopped, my chest heaving. My eyes darted ahead, the jagged drop, and then to the mass of death clawing closer behind us. Every instinct screamed the same thing:Leave her.

But then she turned, and for the briefest, most torturous second, I saw her. Not the schemer, not the liar, not the cheater—the manipulator. Not the person who had burned bridges just to see the ashes. I saw Finley—the girl I thought I had once loved so fiercely it left scars.

Scars that had been healed by a woman who would never leave another soldier behind.

“Don’t make me regret this,” I growled, racing to the top.

I made it out and stumbled onto solid ground, only to be met with two originals at the top. They were easy to tear through. It took no extra thought. Likely had come from all the noise in the area. I turned as Finley reached up, her fingers catching the edge. She’d taken her own running leap toward freedom—unsure if I would come back for her. I grabbed her wrist, my other hand gripping her belt to pull her up. The weight of her was in my hands, pulling me down.

No. That didn’t make sense. I fought against it.

I thought we’d make it.

Her scream ripped through me. She kicked hard, but it didn’t matter. Finley’s thigh was within the clamped jaws of what appeared to be aSupramutated into a Pansie—its jaws buried so deep I could see bone glinting through the torn flesh. A second one latched onto her other leg. Blood poured from the wounds, her body jerking violently as they tore into her. The mess of her attack pulled in a third. I tugged harder. This wouldn’t be how she died. Her crimes were great, but with her death, more people would suffer.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, blood pooling in her mouth. Her eyes locked on mine, wide and desperate. “For everything.”

Claws sliced through her torso easier than paper. I pulled harder, my grip slipping against the slickness of her blood. My muscles burned. I refused to let go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not to her—not like this. Memories of my mother’s face surfaced unbidden, her hand torn from mine ina moment of sheer helplessness. I hadn’t been strong enough then.

A sharp, brutal crack rang out as her leg wrenched from its socket. The pressure shifted, and then they were on her—ripping her apart in front of me. I heard the tearing of flesh, the crack of bones.

Her upper body slipped from my grasp, falling into the pit as the Pansies tore into what was left. The scream that tore from her mouth was cut short. I stumbled back, dazed, numb. The noise around me faded, drowned out by the image seared into my mind.

Finley was gone—torn apart. Piece by piece. And I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t stop the blood from dripping from my hands.

All I could do was let her go.

“Finley?” The voice was a hollow, confused whisper. “No. Finley?”

It was mine. The Pansies overwhelmed her, their bodies piling on top of hers. Something already broken inside me splintered.

Their snarls shifted, their dead eyes swiveling toward me. I braced myself, my muscles tensing for the inevitable, when Finley’s device let out one last, desperate pulse. A deep, resonant hum shook the air, freezing the Pansies mid-motion. Their heads twitched unnaturally, their limbs spasming as if caught in a glitch.

She’d fixed it. In her last moments, she’d found the piece.

I ran. Away from the horror, away fromher. The woods swallowed me whole, branches clawing at my arms, roots threatening to trip me. My lungs burned, my thoughts a storm of panic, guilt, and something I didn’t dare name. All I could think of was finding Amaia. Getting to her before she met a similar fate.

Branches lashed at my face, the taste of bile still sharp on my tongue. Finley’s scream echoed in my skull. Trembles coursed through me, my body exhausted.

Pain hit me with the brutality of a tidal wave. I hit the ground hard.

Instinct took over, and I lashed out, shoving the weight off me. My knife was in my hand before I even registered who or what it was.

“Stand down!” a sharp voice barked.

I froze. I knew that voice.

Amaia.

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