Page 139 of The Rut in the Road

It was mine.

Everything felt so heavy.

And dark.

Even if I’d wanted to open my eyes, my lids were like stone.

My body crumbling like the corpses below.

I couldn’t?—

“What the fuckwere you thinking, Hart? Bringing him here?” I recognized the voice as Raj’s, although it sounded distant, as though it were traveling through glass or water. I tried to open my eyes, but they refused, and the world remained dark. Trying to move felt like trying to push my body through solid lead.

“I the fuck was thinking that—as we all agreed, may I remind you, oh glorious leader—you and Drew and the fucking cavalry were going to be the ones to find the actual religious nutjobs,andthat the cavalry was probably unnecessary, because most religious groups like this one aren’t the second coming of the fucking Branch Davidians,” Hart snapped back. “I was thinking—and everyone agreed—that bringing Rayn here wouldbe perfectly safe and possibly enlightening. Turns out, we wereallfucking wrong.”

“And why the fuck didn’t you leave him in the car? He’s a civilian who has no capacity?—”

“The fuck he hasno capacity, you overprotective asshole!” Hart was yelling now. “That man is the reason Cass and I are alive, you arrogant dickhead.Heis the reason we were able to wait for twenty-seven goddamn fucking minutes for the rest of you to get here.Rayn.What Cass and I did might have bought us five. Maybe. If we were really fucking lucky, which, let me tell you, we fucking weren’t.”

“You can’t possibly?—”

“What the fuck do you think happened out there,Parikh?” If I could have flinched, I would have. Hart wasreallyangry.

So was Raj.

But Hart wasfurious. And he didn’t wait for Raj’s answer.

“A goddamn fucking corpse party? You think the jibbering cultists were, what, tossing arms and legs at us? They had fucking rifles and AR-15s andgrenades. Grenades that, thank fucking God, got thrown at theliteral army of the deadthat your delicate boyfriend resurrected through the goddamn concrete. And you wanna tell me that he can’t take care of himself? That man took care of a whole goddamn nutjob armyby his own fucking self. And you’d better fucking be prepared to do some serious groveling for eventhinkingthat he needed our sorry-ass protection.”

Raj said nothing, although I thought I could hear the low, telltale rumble of a growl.

“And that’s not even counting the fact that he’s already survived a whole fucking nightmare of a childhood, Arcanavirus, and beingthrown in a fucking well,” Hart continued. “So don’t you fuckingdarethink he can’t take care of himself. You got me, Parikh?”

Hart was breathing so hard I could hear the breaths, even over the sound of whatever was happening down on the main floor of the warehouse.

“He’s still a civilian,” Raj said. “And you should have left him in the car.”

“Oh,fuck you,” was what Hart came back with. “Don’t you fucking throw protocol at me. If we’d left him in the car, you’d have yelled at my goddamn corpse that I left him alone and unprotected, so cut the bullshit and just man the fuck up and apologize.”

“If you think I’m going to apologize to you?—”

“Not to me, you shithead,” Hart snarled. “To him.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“I’m not going to apologize for worrying about his safety.”

“Free advice, Parikh,” Hart hissed. “You treat him like he can’t take care of himself, and he will dump your paternalistic ass sooner or later. And if you can’t recognize that you’re treating him like a child or a pet instead of your partner, then I hope it’s sooner. In fact, I hope he can hear this, and that it pisses him off enough that he won’t take your apology if you make it on your goddamn knees.”

If I’d been capable of moving—of gasping or gaping or doing anything at all besides lying on the ground—I would have reacted to that as though Hart had slapped me.

Hartbelieved I was capable. Powerful. Worthy of respect.

Raj respected me. I knew that. He was always careful to make sure that I was okay, that I was?—

You’re treating him like a child or a pet.

26