The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) by Diego Valenzuela Read Free Book Online Page B

like an assault of harsh sensations it wasn’t ready to process. His face was hot. His right hand hurt, and it felt like an eternity before he could feel the cold breeze on his skin again.
    Jena was yelling vulgarities he had never heard her speak before.
    Erin had wrapped him in a hug.
    What happened?
    Still trapped in Erin’s embrace, Ezra looked at his right hand and cringed at the sight, the source of the pain: he had torn two of his fingernails almost entirely off, and they now hung from twisted skin, exposing tender flesh that bled.
    Behind Ezra’s mutilated hand, Garros sat on the floor, looking up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, like he too was having trouble assimilating the situation.
    Erin finally let him go, and he noticed she was crying. She was saying something, but he could barely understand her words; his entire thought process was still impaired by chemicals rushing through his veins.
    Had he just saved Garros’ life?
    He hadn’t been freed of Erin’s embrace for more than a few seconds before it was Garros’ turn to squeeze the air out of him. He became angry, and felt like the huge man would crush him, so Ezra pushed him away.
    “Blanchard, I—”
    “You moron !” Ezra yelled, feeling his heartbeat in his throat, in his ears, and finally piecing together the events. Giving his back to the creature for even one second had been incredibly stupid. “Just two hours ago you were giving us all crap about getting too confident inside the Creux, and then you do that !”
    Garros had nothing to say, so he began to laugh. It wasn’t genuine; there was a hint of horror and embarrassment, as if his own stupidity was still hard to believe, and the only way to dispel the awkwardness was insincere laughter.
    “I think I pissed myself,” he said.
    He had. The largest man Ezra had ever known, the same one who had survived an explosion that took four lives, stood there, red in the face, with piss in his pants.
    Lightheaded, Ezra sat down and looked at his hand again. He pushed his fingernails back into place, and grunted—even dulled by circumstance, the pain was excruciating.
    Small price to pay . . .
    “I know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” Garros said, first to Ezra and then to Erin. He laughed again, another attempt at making light of the situation, and not one of the others appreciated it. “Oh my god, guys—I think I could’ve died !”
    Trying to focus, Ezra’s eyes were still down on the grass, so he didn’t get to see Erin give Garros his second punch of the day. It must have been a better swing than Ezra’s, because Garros actually stumbled one step back, and stood there grabbing his jaw, accepting the punishment.
    “Stop! What is happening to us ?” Jena yelled, and Ezra finally looked up at her. She was furious, even more so than Erin. “What is happening? What could possibly be happening to make us act this way? We’re hurting each other, putting ourselves at risk for no reason. Why ?”
    “I don’t know. I said I’m sorry, Crescent,” said Garros, clenching his jaw, almost like he was putting it back in place.
    Tightening the fist she used to hit Garros, Erin walked over to Jena. “I’m sorry, too. Ezra, thank you for what you did. I really don’t have words to explain what it means—what you just did. Not only for the mission, but for me.”
    “Erin, is this. . .” Garros tried say, and any trace of levity was gone from his voice, replaced by the same uncharacteristic solemnity he had heard an hour earlier. “What’s happening to us, is it what I think it is?”
    She considered him for a moment, then nodded.
    “What are you talking about?” asked Ezra.
    “Guys—Ezra, Jena: there’s something we need to tell you.”
    Erin paused for a moment to make sure she could find the right words, and the anticipation almost made him forget the pain in his fingers. He rose to his feet.
    “Back in Zenith I know we would have never hurt each other, or put ourselves at risk like