Page 52 of Wrong Squad, Right Mess

Her skin had deep claw marks—not from an animal, not from a monster, but from something far more blunt. The ragged state of her own nails said she’d done it, that she’d dug and ripped and torn her own flesh from her face, her throat, her chest, every exposed inch of her was covered in marks. Her arm sat at an unnatural angle, her ribs bent inward.

Had she been thrown first?

I bent down to examine her more closely. She had been dead for less than an hour, which meant tiny sparks of life still rested deep inside her brain. Not enough to revive her—and we wouldn’t dare with a corrupted—but enough to leave slight echoes.

It all screamed the same thing—Corsa. His dark energy, his tight grip, it all rested inside this woman’s gray matter.

“Corsa did it,” I said without rising from my crouch, the body there like a warning.

That showed what we faced, the true danger of the man we had thought gone for ten years, the nightmare of Yun’s.

I took one more deep breath then stood. Knowing the risks didn’t change our course. Corsa had something precious to us, and we wouldn’t stop until we had her back.

Chapter Thirty

Yun

I stared at the heart, something inside of me drawn to move closer.

A hand wrapped around my arm, stopping me, forcing me to break the one-sided staring contest to find Corsa there.

“Not again,” he said softly. “You won’t pull the same trick twice.”

“So why set up near the heart?”

“Because this is where the dungeon is strongest. This is the place where I should be.” He sighed, then shook his head. “You don’t understand because you haven’t seen.”

“I’ve seen more than enough,” I reminded him. “I was here for six months.”

“Yes, but I was still learning this place back then. I didn’t understand the depth of the world here, the reality behind it all. Corruption plays with a person’s mind, and while you saved me from that, it took a great deal of time to truly understand how The Pitt works—well, how any of the dungeons work. Come on, let me show you where you’ll stay.”

I wanted to yank away, but I knew better. There was no reason to fight a grip I couldn’t loosen. Better to bide my time, to wait for a better opening.

We only walked about twenty feet before we came to a clearing with…a house? I blinked, staring at the structure, not understanding what I was seeing.

This wasn’t a house that had been dragged here from our world. Instead, it appeared more like a cabin—rustic and small. In fact, it reminded me of what Kenyon had said about his cabin, about the place in the mountains he’d wanted to take me.

A pang in my chest hit so hard I tried to ignore it.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Our home. I realized once you were gone that I couldn’t expect you to remain sleeping in the dungeon on the ground. I knew we would meet again, that you would come back to me, so I spent time to ensure we would have a proper home.”

I blinked slowly, looking at the thing, struggling to make sense of it. It made me laugh, the sound uneasy. “We aren’t here playing house. You think this is going to make a difference? A fucking cage is still a cage, no matter what you make it look like.”

He shrugged as though he didn’t really care. “If you want to sleep on the dirt, you’re free to. However, I’ve ensured that the beasts in this area will trail you and keep you from approaching the heart, or traveling far from right here. I don’t see a point in harming yourself by refusing a comfortable bed and home, but that’s still your choice to make. At least come inside to see it.”

I didn’t want to step foot inside that house. Partly because Corsa had made it and I was petty, partly because it felt like accepting my life here, and partly because I didn’t want to be closed in anywhere with him.

Still, I heard Carter in my head, reminding me to look for opportunities, to look for weaknesses. Better I know what I had at my disposal in general, so I didn’t agree verbally, but I went to the door.

There was no lock on the handle, but why would there be? It wasn’t like he had to worry about being robbed. The hinges squeaked as I pushed the door open, the inside brighter than I would have expected.

It had no true windows, though there were long slits at the top of the walls, above where I could see or easily reach, probably for air flow. They lacked glass, which explained the ash that rested on the surfaces inside. There was a table and a bed, both made from twisted branches that resembled what was found in The Pitt, but not exactly.

“Who made all this?” I asked. The Corsa I’d known hadn’t given a damn about making anything, and from what I’d heard from my squad, he hadn’t had the skills before he’d been corrupted.

It had been a long time, but I couldn’t imagine him practicing during those years. In fact, I’d purposely ignored the idea that he’d been here all those ten years, partly because I couldn’t imagine surviving it myself.