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Back The Ones We Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One: Skra: Sixty Days Remain
  5. PART ONE SKRA SIXTY DAYS REMAIN
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4 Two weeks later
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. Part Two: Monster: Twenty-Five Days Remain
  25. PART TWO MONSTER TWENTY-FIVE DAYS REMAIN
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Part Three: Butcher: Six Days Remain
  40. PART THREE BUTCHER SIX DAYS REMAIN
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. Part Four: Bloodwinn: Coup Successful
  64. PART FOUR BLOODWINN COUP SUCCESSFUL
  65. 54
  66. 55
  67. 56
  68. 57
  69. 58
  70. 59
  71. 60
  72. 61
  73. 62
  74. 63
  75. 64
  76. 65
  77. 66
  78. 67
  79. 68
  80. 69
  81. 70
  82. 71
  83. 72
  84. 73
  85. 74
  86. 75
  87. 76
  88. 77
  89. 78
  90. 79
  91. 80 EPILOGUE Three months later
  92. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  93. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Her skin hung from her bones, fist-sized sores weeping watery blood where the scabs curled free of rotting skin. The girl’s eyes were a soulless, blood-witch white. She scented the air, tongue lolling, head cocked at an unnatural angle as she panted.

And Ranka couldn’t move, couldn’t think, because she knew this witch.

She would have known her anywhere.

“Yeva?” she whispered.

It wasn’t possible.

Yeva had only just gone missing.

And Yeva was not a blood-witch.

Yet here she stood, eyes white, nails sharpened to wicked black claws. Her left arm hung at the wrong angle. Glistening bone poked through the skin.

“Yeva,” Ranka tried, her voice wobbling. “It’s me, Ranka. I came here to find you. I came to bring you home.”

This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening—couldn’t be her. Not Yeva, who had rubbed poultice on Ranka’s burn wounds after Belren. Yeva, who remembered Ranka loved dried strawberries and managed to acquire some every year for her birthday. Who’d nursed her back to health, held her hand through countless nightmares, and woven her a bracelet on a gray winter day.

Yeva, who had loved her long after Ranka no longer deserved it.

Not her.

Anyone but her.

“I’m sorry,” Ranka whispered. “I was too late.”

Yeva panted. Half of her teeth were missing. The ones that remained were stained red. One nostril was swollen shut by blisters, and most of her hair had fallen out, leaving only stringy, blood-soaked clumps. She had been a beautiful girl, once.

Tears rolled down Ranka’s cheeks. “What happened to you?”

Yeva gurgled—and hurtled forward.

17

RANKA WAS LOSING.

She lurched backward, scrambling out of Yeva’s way, and tripped, ramming her shoulder into the alley wall with a painful crunch. Her head spun. She was faster than Yeva—but not by much. And she couldn’t keep this up forever.

“Please,” Ranka wheezed, twisting out of the way of Yeva’s claws. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Galen cowered against the wall, his eyes dazed.

Yeva moved forward.

Ranka moved back.

“Yeva,” she tried again. “We’re family.”

Yeva licked her lips.

Tears cut tracks through the grime on Ranka’s cheeks. Her blood-magic tugged at her senses. She shoved it back down. If she let it take over, Yeva didn’t stand a chance.

Yeva flung herself at Ranka—and this time, Ranka didn’t move.

They collided in a crunch of bone. Pain exploded across Ranka’s vision as Yeva slammed her into the alley wall. Ranka forced her knee into Yeva’s stomach, attempting to drive the witch back, sobbing as she tried to hold her off. This was wrong, all wrong. Ranka had come here to save her. Ranka had come here to bring her home.