Page 144 of Circus From Hell

I can hear Arlo’s, Micha’s, and the two belonging to Soren. That’s four in total.

It should be five.

I need my five.

I can’t live without my five.

“It hurts,” I whine, clawing against a chest. The pain I’ve only ever experienced from Spiral’s drugs and the realisation that Kreo never cared for me, that I was never supposed to exist, returns tenfold. It’s true pain. Unbearable pain.

My knees buckle, but their arms hold me up.

I listen to their unsteady hearts, counting them to drown out the hurt.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four⁠—

Five?

I snap my head up, counting again.

Four pound rapidly.

Arlo’s one.

Micha’s one.

Soren’s two.

And a fifth.

It’s slow, unsteady, distant.

But it’s there.

“Spiral?”

“He’s gone, Karma,” Soren whispers, but I shake my head, pushing them away.

“I’m sorry, Stitches,” Micha adds, and I can hear the pain in his voice. It mixes with that distant, unsteady pounding.

“Spiral?” I repeat, approaching the metal table as the group stares at me. My glowing eyes are fixed on Spiral’s body. The green light drifts from his feet, up to his legs and torso, to his neck, and finally, over his face.

The unsteady rhythm is closest now that I’m beside him.

“Spiral?” I ask a third time.

Dark eyes snap open, and if I had a working heart, it would drop to the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ARLO

Spiral’s whole body racks as he coughs.

“Shit,” he rasps, trying to catch his breath as we stare at him wide-eyed.