Page 145 of Fragile Sanctuary

“Yeah,” the same young deputy said.

A fuckin’ Boy Scout. But I was grateful. He tossed it to me from his gear bag, and I put it over my head as Trace fixed a first-aid bag around his body.

“Belay on,” I called to the deputy behind me.

“On belay,” he answered.

Then, I was moving toward the opening. The charred floor groaned beneath me as I walked, and I knew it could give way at any second. I needed to move quickly but carefully.

My ribs squeezed around my lungs as I approached the edge. The beam of light from the headlamp and the sun overhead revealed a horrific tableau. Burned wreckage. So much soot that it made it hard to make out what was what.

Then I saw him. Silas had fallen awkwardly. His legs were sprawled in a way I knew meant broken bones, and his neck rested at an unnatural angle. His eyes were open wide but completely unseeing. Gone. The Hangman, the demon who’d haunted me, the one who had stolen my sister’s life, was no more. But I felt no relief, had no time to take that in and let it land.

My gaze was instantly searching again. It was the glimpse of one pink-and-teal flower that had me stopping. The toe of one of those damn boots. My heart stopped altogether as I took in the entirety of Rho.

She wasn’t moving. Not even the slightest bit. I couldn’t see from here if she was breathing. But her eyes were closed.

“Fuck.” The word clogged in my throat, tangled with tears and the sob trying to break free. “Going over,” I shouted. “Slack.”

The deputy gave it to me, and I went over the edge. The way down was a painstaking volley of words with my belay. Trying to get to Rho and scared out of my mind she wouldn’t be there when I arrived.

Finally, my feet hit the cement floor, cluttered with debris. “I’m down,” I shouted.

I instantly felt the slack in my tether as Trace landed next to me. But I was already moving, running to Rho, tripping over beams and God knew what else. I fell to my knees as I reached her, not giving a damn about the jarring pain.

Soot covered her beautiful face. I reached out, my hand stopping just shy of her neck. Blood pooled around the wound there, her life force spilling out.

“Do it,” Trace choked out.

I placed my fingers on her neck, closed my eyes, and prayed. The moment they pressed into her flesh, Rho let out a soft moan.

Relief and fear coursed through me in equal measure. “Rho, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered until they finally opened. “Hurts,” she croaked, trying to shift.

“Don’t move,” I ordered, panic surging. We had no idea what sort of injuries Rho might have, and I wasn’t about to risk her spine.

“Anson.” Her voice was weak, and her eyelids drooped.

I took her hand, squeezing. “Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me. Help’s almost here.”

Rho’s eyelids fluttered again, and I saw her struggle. Felt it.

“Don’t, Reckless. Don’t leave me.” I squeezed her hand harder. A tear slipped free, landing on Rho’s cheek and turning the ash pure black. “I love you.”

But Rho didn’t answer. She didn’t speak at all.

51

RHODES

The faint beepinggrated against my eardrums like a loud, annoying bee. I tried to swat at it but couldn’t seem to move my arm.

“Easy, Reckless,” a deep voice crooned. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Something about the voice soothed, but I wanted to see the owner of the deep timbre. Needed to be closer to it as if I could wrap myself in the comforting tone like a blanket.

Fingers trailed over my arm in gentle strokes. The sensation was so lovely I almost didn’t notice the pounding in my head. But not quite. The steady drumbeat in my skull made it feel like my head was about to explode.

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