She didn’t respond, but she took the knife and climbed partway into Bentley’s body to start cutting him out of the protective sac.  I stepped in and used my shoulder to help leverage the ribcage open.

Her actually accepting the help is probably the closest thing to gratitude you’ll be seeing from her, for now at least.

My legs screamed with the strain, but I could deal with the pain.  It would be better to suffer some pain than let Bitch get crushed inside Bentley’s chest cavity.

That would probably be less than ideal, at least for Bitch.

She climbed out with the bulldog draped over her arms, falling to her knees the second she was free.  She laid Bentley down on the ground.

“Is he okay?”

Did the gas get into him?

She checked.  “He’s breathing.”

Yay!

“Good.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like you care.”

Well, I do.

The pain in my legs made me gasp if I stretched my foot out the wrong way, and each gasp only triggered the pain in my ribs.

We’ve barely started the chapter and it’s already not a good one for various ribcages.

The air was heated, though there were no fires in the immediate area.  The hot, smoke-filled air combined with the pain in my ribs to punish even my shallower breaths.

So. You wanted to be a cape, Taylor?

“The fuck are you doing here?”  Bitch asked.

Good to see you too.

I drew my knife and held it by the blade, extending the handle towards her.  “Helping.”

Firmness. She’s not asking if Bitch wants help, and certainly not if she needs help, she’s just… “I’m helping whether you like it or not, now take this knife.”

The flesh of the bulldog’s monstrous form was decaying, sloughing off and putrefying into a liquid slop over the span of seconds.

Been a while since we had a good ol’ flesh liquification in this story.

As the tissues connecting the bones disintegrated, they became loose, bending in place.  Bitch was trying to get the ribcage apart before the remainder of the flesh collapsed in on the dog’s real body.

That would probably not be pleasant, if he’s alive in there.

Anything your bugs can do to help, Taylor? They’re probably not strong enough to do much about the ribcage, but maybe there’s something else.

“Found her,” I spoke into my phone as I hurried towards her, my rain boots splashing.  “Yeah.  Contact the others about meeting.”

Oh. She did go out. Fair enough, that was a hasty assumption on my part.

Wait, are we not hearing the other side of this phone call? Hmm. Is that because it’s not important, or because it is and it’d mess with later reveals?

I’m leaning towards the former, but it’s still suspicious. Wildbow hasn’t done this before.

Bentley had been turned on his back, and Sirius had one side of Bentley’s ribs in his jaws, pulling.

Oh, hey.

So was that where she went? Just going to fetch Bentley before coming back?

Bitch was holding the other side, tugging on it with her entire body in an effort to pull it apart.  Bastard was chained to a streetlight, lying on the ground with his chin on his front paws.  He had shrunk from the size he was before.

…is she performing an operation on Bentley?

Oh wait, I see. She’s doing the thing they did with Lucy, pulling out the real dog from inside the hellhound exterior.

With Lucy, the real dog inside was hit by the bullets, but with Bentley, what took him down was a gas. Could it have killed only the hellhound while leaving the normal dog inside alive?

She’s alive.  After Bitch had gone incommunicado, I’d worried Burnscar had gotten ahold of her.

Ahh, right, bug sense. No need to go out to look for her.