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“Don’t.”

Bitter stops like the word has teeth.

Good.

Let it.

Nevermore appears beside me but does not touch.

“Sweet, we need to get you away from the edge.”

“I know.”

His gaze flicks toward Bitter, then returns to me.

“Can I walk with you?”

Can I.

Not come on. Not move. Not let’s go.

Can I.

I nod.

Apparently Grave Prowlers can learn when women bleed enough in front of them.

Nevermore walks on my left. Bitter stays several steps behind on my right.

Ghoul picks my phone up from the ground. CSI comes through the trees with a flashlight and camera, photographing footprints, blood, Razor’s knife, the helmet near the slab, and the places where gravel gave way beneath my shoes.

The club moves around us with terrifying efficiency.

Razor keeps talking until Boogie shoves something into his mouth.

I do not ask what.

I do not want to know.

We reach the gravel road, and festival lights glow through the trees in orange, gold, and ghostly white.

Pretty little lies strung across a town that knows exactly how deep its holes go.

Mercy waits at the edge of the road with Crypt, Scarecrow, and Petal.

The second she sees me, her face crumples.

That nearly breaks me harder than hanging over the hole did.

“Oh, sugar.”

“I’m okay.”

Nobody believes me.

Mercy reaches for me, then stops with her hands hovering.

“May I?”