“Fang,” Maya whispered.
“You’re okay,” Fang said, as much to convince himself as Maya. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Scenes flashed in Fang’s mind: Maya laughing easily. Maya asking if he was okay, her eyes soft, concerned. Maya after her haircut—happy, confident, ready for a fresh start. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he had thought they could be each other’s fresh start. He ground his teeth into his lips to keep from screaming.
“Fang… I love you,” Maya said, starting to cry. Tears trickled over her lovely cheeks, down her jaw, into the mutilated mess of her neck.
The sound of wings filtered into his brain, but only vaguely, as if he were hearing it through a long tunnel.
“I know,” Fang whispered.
Then he felt the wind shift behind him, felt the hairs on his neck rising. Before he could move, before he could react, Ari appeared, and with a final, murderous lunge, smashed his elbow into Maya’s chest with crushing force.
“No!” Fang screamed as Ari soared away from them. Still struggling to hold Maya up, Fang couldn’t defend her, couldn’t fight back. He could only clutch at her and watch it happen.
Helpless.
Fang landed as gently as he could. He fell to his knees, arranging Maya’s head on his lap.
“Crap,” Ratchet said, awake again and limping over. “I saw Ari take a swipe at her, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Get me something to stop the bleeding,” Fang said tersely. Ratchet looked around, then grabbed Holden and yanked the boy’s shirt off. He tossed it to Fang, who pressed the cloth to Maya’s neck.
He was aware of Star and Kate, unsure what to do, huddling together off to the side. They clearly hadn’t been prepared for this. Fang would deal with them later.
Ratchet and Holden leaned silently over him. They knew, just as Fang knew, that it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” Maya cried helplessly. She coughed and sputtered, her breath growing shallow.
“Shh,” Fang said. “Don’t talk. Just focus on breathing. You’re going to get through this. We’re going to get through this,” he repeated.
Maya’s brown eyes struggled to focus on his. “Sorry I’m… not st-strong af… ter all.”
“Maya,” he said quietly. “You are strong. Stronger than anyone.”
“After Max,” she said, trying to smile. Blood began to seep from beneath Holden’s shirt and drip on the ground.
Fang shook his head. “Not after Max. Right next to her. Equal.”
“Thank you,” Maya whispered. Then her eyes seemed to focus on a spot just to one side of Fang’s face, and her head lolled.
Fang didn’t move.
He just sat there, staring at the dead girl. The dead Maya, the dead Max, the dead almost everything he cared about. He felt like a freight train was slamming into his chest, over and over again.
Ratchet and Holden tensed beside Fang as footsteps approached. Ratchet said, “Fang? Wolfboy’s back.”
Still Fang didn’t move from his place on the ground, didn’t stop cradling Maya’s body.
Ari’s voice, gruff and taunting, cut through the fog. “Fang—sorry, man. Had to happen. Don’t worry, though—she’s a clone, right? Dime a dozen.”
Finally Fang looked up, his eyes swimming. “We’ll finish this later,” he said through clenched teeth.
Ari grinned. “I’m counting on it,” he said, turning. “C’mon, you weaklings, get up,” he shouted at the injured Erasers. Many large bodies heaved themselves noisily toward the trucks.
“Coward!” Ratchet hurled the dented, bloodied tire iron through the air.
Ari stepped swiftly to the left, and the metal clanged against a truck. His laughter, grating and harsh, filled the empty desert battlefield. Then the engines roared and the entire convoy spun around and faded away in a cloud of dust.