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Sandworms are brainless monsters who live beneath the ground and only come up for air when they need to feed. Andthese fuckers feed on just about anything—monsters, humans, animals, trash, buildings…
I shudder.
They’re the worst of all the teeth. And they’re enormous too. Most of them are easily the size of two, maybe three school buses from the before times. I’ve had the displeasure of coming face to face with this particular type of creature, and I noticed that its skin was pink and bulbous, and it had a circular row of serrated, razor-sharp teeth in the middle of its face.
If one of them is in the factory as we speak…
“We need to fucking move,” I snap, though my ire isn’t aimed at Chase but at the situation.
Fuck, how could everything have gone to hell so quickly? What happened to Tesq, Creep, and Dev? Are they okay? Worry for the three of them threatens to barrel me over, but I force myself to remember who, exactly, they are.
Three of the Four Terrors, the most feared and revered group of monsters in existence. They probably already killed every monster in this building and are just waiting for me to catch up with them.
That thought bolsters my confidence and courage.
Yes, they’re waiting for me…
So I need to hurry the hell up before they send out a search team.
“Come on.” This time, I work to gentle my voice as I lower myself beside Chase before slinging his bloody arm over my shoulder.
For some reason, it feels as if I’m attempting to coax a snarling, rabid dog to come with me. I’m afraid if I say something wrong or move too quickly, this monster wearing Chase’s face will snap at mine and bite my skin until I bleed.
I should hate him, and I think a part of me does, but at the same time, my body yearns for his in a way that defies all reasoning and logic. He tried to kill me in a misguided attempt to “protect” me, so for all intents and purposes, I should leave him here to rot.
So why did I enlist the help of the other Terrors to break him out of this prison?
Because some deep-seated part of me thinks Chase doesn’t deserve to suffer? Maybe. A little. I also owe the annoying human for protecting me when we were captured, for trying to sacrifice himself for me.
Empty’s getting a pass because of the human body he’s inhabiting.
That’s what I tell myself, though I know it’s a lie.
Why does fear for him compound with my already present fear for the other three, creating an acerbic, noxious mixture that I can’t escape from? Some toxic addiction that I don’t want to evade?
Why am I staggering under his immense weight, allowing him to lean on me instead of leaving him behind to die?
I know the answer to those questions, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself.
Mate.
That one word flits through my mind like a sparrow flying from tree branch to tree branch. It eviscerates my defenses in a matter of seconds, sending them crumbling to the ground in a pile of ash.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
A term that I’ve been struggling to reconcile since I met the Terrors. I know the truth of their claim that I’m their mate deep in my bones.
Fuck!
Chase moans as I attempt to stand, his features pinched tightly in pain and his body rigid beneath my own. I place one of my hands on the center of his chest in an attempt to steady him, and he hisses in pain. Sliding my grip over, I search for an uninjured bit of skin, but there isn’t much, and I have to settle for a green-tinged section that looks like a healing bruise.
“When did you get so fucking heavy?” I grumble half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood as I maneuver him out of the prison, stepping very carefully over the monster I murdered. “Is the Empty Man fattening you up to eat you?”
Chase stares at me strangely out of the corner of his eyes. His features are so incredibly bruised and distorted, I can barely see the blue of his irises peeking through the swollen mass of flesh. He opens his mouth to respond, his chapped, bloody lips parting, when more plaster and debris rain down on us.
