Page 100 of Glutton for Punishment

Arwen makes a sound I never want to hear again.

“NOO—!” She yells in pure despair. But she’s not looking at Kael or the retreating gang.

Behind the shredded remains of the containers, a civilian, an older man, has collapsed onto the pavement, clutching his leg… or what’s left of it. He must have been hiding, using the container for cover.

Blood pours onto the concrete in horrifying sheets from his knee, where it looks like his lower leg has been ripped clean off.

She sprints and falls to her knees beside the man.

“No, no, no, no, no, no—” Her hands shake so badly she can barely tear the bottom material of her shirt free. She presses the fabric against the wound with blood-slick fingers, sobbing.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please—please stay with me—”

The man screams and her entire body jerks with each sound. I reach her just as one of Duval’s medics slides in beside them.

“Move!” he snaps.

She’s frozen in horror, still pressing against the wound as if she just holds hard enough she can undo it. I crouch and grab her shoulders softly to pull her away.

“Arwen…” I murmur.

She fights me while I gently continue to pull her back.

“No! No, I can fix it—”

“You can’t. Let the medic do his job.”

Her face breaks. “I… I did this.”

The medic shoves in, hands glowing over the ruined limb which can never be restored. She collapses against me, trembling as she stares at the scene in mute horror. A broken sound tears from her throat again as sobs wrack through her, hard enough to shake us both.

I turn her away from the scene and pull her into my chest, holding her as tightly as I can while blood stains both our clothes.

She grips my shirt with desperate fists. Tears stream down her face. “I hurt him.”

My throat tightens so hard it burns as dread settles heavy in my chest.

Because I know Arwen. Know the way her mind works. Know how merciless she is with herself.

This—

This might destroy her.

Chapter 29

Arwen

Asoft click sounds behind me as my bedroom door opens, then closes.

I don’t bother turning. Only three people ever visit, and Maddox only comes after dark, silently climbing into bed beside me. He holds me while I pretend to sleep.

“How are you today?” Cleo asks gently. The mattress dips behind me as she sits on the edge of the bed, her hand rubbing slow circles between my shoulders.

I stare at the wall and say nothing. What is there to say?

That every time I close my eyes I see blood pooling across concrete? That I hear his screaming in my dreams? That I can still feel the man’s ruined leg in my hands?

When I stepped into the fight, all I could think about was us versus them, consumed by rage. No mind for who got caught in the crosshairs.