Grue limped around the scene until he stood over Mannequin’s body.
“Ignore the head,” I said, quiet. “Nothing important in there. I’m not joking. It’s a decoy. Get him in the chest.”
Right, not just hold him down, but hurt him. Got it.
Grue nodded and hefted the chunk of rubble until it was over his head, point facing forward.
s t r o n k
Would it puncture? Hard to say.
Worth a try.
Yeah, let’s see how it goes and take it from there.
“Do it,” Bitch growled, beside me. “Killed Lucy.”
“Bentley too, maybe,” I said, quiet. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if he made it. There was no way to save him.”
😦
I was expecting Taylor to fill in with her own reasons, but this is sadder.
“Do it,” she repeated herself.
Grue didn’t get a chance.
Fuck.
I mean, I did expect him to survive, but this is ominous.
An eruption of fire tore through our surroundings. Not an explosion. There was no shockwave, and barely any noise. It was more like a push, intensely hot and brief.
…Burnscar to the rescue?
We were knocked sprawling, dog and human alike. The agony in my ribs hit me worse than ever as I was knocked flat onto my back in the water and a huff of air was struck from my lungs.
Taylor’s torso is not having a good week.
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