Rune sighed. “Get everything ready to move. We leave in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll travel with you,” Snow said. “You’re going to need me.”
“What about him?” Jim asked, jerking a thumb toward Owen.
“Leave him.” Rune turned away. Snow was right. He couldn’t love. He could only ever betray and kill and lie. He couldn’t care about her or about anyone. “Leave him the horse and a weapon. And some water.”
“Rune,” Owen said. “I didn’t take the baby.”
“You didn’t save her, either. You let her be taken. That’s the same fucking thing.” She clenched her fists, still halfway hoping he could say something to make it right, but knowing he couldn’t. “She was mine, Owen. You ripped my heart out and you didn’t give it a second thought.”
And it was all too much.
Owen.
She’d known not to trust him, not to care about him.
But she had.
He’d released the rotting disease. He’d killed Lex. He’d stolen the baby—or he might as well have.
He’d made her care about a man who didn’t even exist.
“Please, Rune. Nothing I had to do meant I—”
She spun around. “Shut your fucking mouth. Don’t ever speak to me again. Don’t think of me. Don’t let my name leave your lips.” She strode back to him and grasped the edge of the cart so hard it creaked. “Just don’t. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”
Finally, she was pissed. She was beyond her shock, and she was pissed.
But she was sure he could hear the lie in her voice.
Bastard.
“You’re going to be alone,” he called. Then, “Rune. I need you. You need me.”
She ignored him but her heart was heavy. As she strode away, Sorrow’s pup trotted along beside her. She ignored him as well.
If she didn’t ignore, she’d kill.
Everything, everyone.
She didn’t even try to tamp down her black rage.
What was the use in that?
Better to wear rage than sadness.
She didn’t wait for her men to break camp. She didn’t look back to see who followed or if the zombies noticed she was moving out.
She just went, and half wished she could go alone.
But eventually, they all followed her.
Her, the princess. The redeemer.
The monster who was supposed to save the worlds.
Snow caught up with her and the pup, tying her long hair out of her face as she rode the horse that had once carried Ian.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“He meant something to you.”
Rune shrugged. “You had nothing to do with the choices he made.”
They rode in silence until Snow glanced at the pup. “Have you named him yet?”
“Not my place to name him.”
“He’s yours, Rune. Sorrow gave you the gift of raising her offspring. He’s your responsibility and naming him is your obligation.”
“Ride with them.”
“Pardon?”
“Ride with your group.”
“Princess—”
Rune turned on her. “Give me some fucking space.”
Snow said nothing, but did not follow when Rune kicked her horse into a run.
Rune could feel the strange woman’s stare drilling into her back all the way down the long, winding road.
Sister.
They were all watching her.
Owen was gone.
Z was gone.
She would get Z back.
Owen…
Owen had finally crossed a line. He was dead to her.
And she mourned.
She let the grief come. Memories, images of his shadowed eyes and laconic voice and sexy walk flashed through her tired mind.
“Fuck you, cowboy,” she whispered. “Fuck you.”
She’d known there was something off about him.
She hadn’t wanted to face it.
Maybe she missed the cowboy.
But he’d crossed that fucking line.
She rode on, alone but for Sorrow’s stubborn pup, riding to her destiny.
As though he absorbed her mood, the pup, ungainly and growing larger by the minute, looked up at her and chuffed. His eyes were mournful and somber, and he no longer smiled.
“Sorry,” she said. “You’ll have to get used to the world being a grim place if you’re going to hang with me.”
She slowed the horse to a walk. “Guess I decided on a name after all.”
He looked at her, and she swore she saw a question in his stare.
“Grim,” she told him. “That’s a good enough name for the pup of Sorrow.”
To the north a roar like cannons sounded, and explosions brighter than the sun streaked across the sky.
Grim flinched and gave a short yelp, then looked at her apologetically.
“Another thing to get used to,” she said.
But there came a different sound, quieter and unfamiliar and more sinister than the cannons, and sudden chills shook Rune’s body.
Jim caught up with her. “It’s the sky hand. We have to take cover.”
“Sky hand? What the fuck…” But she remembered seeing the hand in the sky when she’d first arrived.