Page 119 of Iron Roses

I twist, hands clawing blindly. My nails find the inside of his wrist. I rake down. Skin tears under my fingers.

He snarls and lifts me by the front of my shirt, dragging me across the boards. My legs scrape splinters into raw flesh.

“You don’t get to rewrite the end,” he says.

The knife is gone. My hands are empty. I dig my heels into the wood, trying to slow him, but he’s stronger. He hauls me toward the edge.

The sea crashes against the supports below. He drops me just before the ledge. I roll once, coughing.

The toe of his boot smashes into my stomach. My body curls. I choke on the air I try to take in. My hand reaches out. He steps on it.

I scream—silently, mouth open, throat raw.

“You made this hard,” he mutters. “It could’ve ended easier. But you never learned when to quit.”

He grabs the collar of my shirt and lifts. The fabric tears under the strain. I slam against his chest, limbs too loose to hold form. Then he shoves.

My body breaks the surface with a crash.

The cold is immediate—ice knifing through muscle. I sink. Before I can rise, a weight drives down.

His boots hit the water above me.

Then his hands. They clamp over my shoulders, forcing me lower.

I thrash. Something presses into my spine as he pins me beneath the surface.

My fingers claw water. My lungs burn.

His hands shift—one pressing my chest down, the other locking around the back of my neck.

The current pulls at my legs, but I’m not moving.

My lungs squeeze. My legs jerk upward, searching for the surface.

Fingers lock in my hair. He holds me under.

Chapter Twenty-One – Cassian

A man comes at me from the blind side of the corridor—head low, arm raised, blade clenched. I don’t wait. I drive my boot into his shin and fire point-blank. The shot takes him under the jaw. Blood hits the wall. I pivot left—shoot again. Another figure stumbles backward and disappears through a cracked door.

I reload behind cover. Eject. Slide. Chamber.

Allegra crashes into me from the smoke, breath ragged. Her fingers hook into the front of my vest and pull me back, off course. I resist for half a step before I see her face.

She’s bleeding down one arm. Ash smears her cheek. She yanks again—toward a corridor breach, half-blown open.

“Cassian—listen,” she gasps. “She’s gone.”

My body stills.

“Elaria.” Her hand is still on me. “She went after Fausto. I saw her get into the car.” She shakes her head. “By the time I ran out—they were gone.” She looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Go, go get her.”

Her fingers go to her vest pocket. She pulls out the tracker and presses it into my hand.

“She still has my phone. And she’s moving.”

The screen pulses—blue, steady. A dot travels along the path.

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