Page 75 of Immune

The fast Rots provide a distraction from the feeling, hitting the park like throwing blades. One slams into a looter too slow to fall back, driving him harshly into the weeds. The man screams only once before teeth close on his throat, tearing into flesh with a wet gurgle. His friend shoots him and the Rot together, then steps back without so much as a small flicker of grief.

Military discipline, but twisted into something mean. There’s no hesitation, no mercy, and no waste unless that waste serves some fucked-up purpose.

“They’ll push the dead up here if they spot us,” Kaito says lowly.

I look over at him again, noticing how pale he is from the blood loss, but his eyes remain sharp and clear. His body stays angled toward the girl without touching her, looking more protective rather than possessive. There’s a very big difference,and I hate that I notice, because I still don’t know if I can even trust it.

I don’t trust easily. Never have.

“Can you fight?” I ask him seriously.

The girl snorts. “Now that’s debatable.”

Kaito glances at her. “I can fight.”

She actually raises an eyebrow at him with countering words. “The best you can offer is bleeding dramatically while standing upright. Don’t oversell yourself.”

His mouth twitches, but mine doesn’t.

“We need outta this building,” I tell them. “They’re clearing toward the crash. Once they find the pilot missing, they’re gonna start sweeping the upper floors.”

Ewan looks over at me with a nonchalant expression I know hides his worries. “Well, good news on the front lines, soldiers. We’ve stashed the pilot upstairs, so that’s a little added convenience.”

“Xeon,” I mutter.

He nods. “I’ll get him moving.”

“No,” the girl snaps immediately, and every single head turns toward her. She looks painfully annoyed by the attention, which is bold for someone who just issued an order in a hallway full of armed Alphas. Her knife lifts half an inch, and then she says, “Stairwell is too obvious. They’ll expect anyone hiding to go up or down. The hallway links to the next building, right?”

Ewan blinks. “And that’s something you just know?”

She gives him a flat look. “This might surprise you, but I have working eyes.”

“And a genuinely scary relationship with architecture, too, apparently,” he volleys.

Another eyebrow raise, though this one is more annoyed than the one before. “It’s a better relationship than the one you had with my hat.”

Ewan’s hand twitches toward where the hat used to be, tucked in his jacket, before he remembers she got it back. His mouth opens, then shuts. He nods. “Touché. I’ll give you that.”

The girl ignores him and looks at me. There’s nothing soft or asking about the look. “The hallway bends into maintenance access. There will be something like an old delivery passage somewhere. Buildings like these share guts.”

I hate how fast she maps it. I hate more that she’s probably right, even though I don’t know how that’s possible.

“Fine,” I say. “We move the pilot through maintenance if we can.”

Just then, a bullet cracks against the concrete wall and plaster flies near Ewan’s head.

“Contact!” I bark.

Every one of us drops.

The looters must have spotted movement. Maybe a shadow, maybe one of us at the window. Maybe they’re just spraying upper floors to see what screams. Either way, two more shots crash through the glass, spitting shards across the ground.

The girl moves first. She doesn’t move away, but toward, ducking under the broken window to grab a loose brick from the floor before throwing it hard toward the far end of the hallway. It clatters loudly down the stairwell, and the looters below shift fire toward the sound.

She’s played them at their own game, luring them with sound. Smart. This time, the good kind. She doesn’t wait to see if it worked, cutting left into the dark passage with her knife reversed in her grip.

“Move,” she snaps.