Page 249 of Psycho Beasts

The little girl knelt in front of Aran’s body and prodded it.

Her head snapped up, dark eyes wide. “She’s—” she whispered so quietly I couldn’t hear the rest of what she said.

I heaved up bile.

Jinx stumbled backward, eyes frantic. “She’s alive.”

Her words penetrated.

I crawled forward through the broken glass and blood, the Ortega brothers following mindlessly.

“Aran!” I screamed as I collapsed atop my best friend.

Bullet holes covered her body, and every inch of pale skin was stained red. Her skin was icy, colder than snow.

She was dead. It was a cruel joke.

I shook.

“Look at her chest.” Jinx’s voice was far away.

Aran’s chest was a mess of bullet holes.

I stared at it with single-minded intensity, refusing to blink, forcing myself to stare at the carnage that was my best friend.

Ever so slightly…

It rose.

My eyes widened, and I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her as hard as I could. “Wake up!” I screamed as I clawed at her gore-covered skin.

All rationality fled my body.

Ascher fell to his knees beside me. “How?”

I didn’t care how, or why. I didn’t give a flying fuck. All that mattered was she was still breathing.

“HELP HER!” I screamed frantically at everyone, unsure of what I was asking for, just knowing that we needed to do something.

Anything.

Sweat poured off my body, the strain of using my blood powers mixed with the acidic hope that burned me from the inside out, and I collapsed onto my back beside Aran, choking on manic screams.

Xerxes yelled something about a medical kit.

Maids ran around us.

I prayed to every god—promised myself, anything they wanted—if they would just let her live.

The Ortega brothers sprawled on the ground beside me, mindless puppets connected to my will.

Xerxes poured vials of liquid down Aran’s throat, and Ascher used tweezers to pull out the enchanted bullets that were buried in her flesh, the ones that hadn’t gone straight through to Walter.

The butler’s chest didn’t move.

Tears streaked down Xerxes’s cheeks as he worked, glancing over at Walter every few seconds.

I mourned for him.