I grin down at him. “I’m still deciding.”
The bubbling grows louder the closer we get. I drag him to the edge and haul him upright. “You know,” I say conversationally, “I could throw you in.”
His breath stutters.
“That would be so easy.” I shove him forward enough that his shoes dip into the tar-black edge.
“You can’t stop it,” he blurts out.
“Stop what?”
He looks past me, toward the lot, toward the cars.
“I’ll tell you—just put me down?—”
I slam him harder into the ground, forcing one foot deeper. The tar grips, thick and eager. “I don’t negotiate with scum.”
The bubbling grows louder.
“Last chance, stop what?”
“It asked for you!” he yells.
I search his face—panic, yes, but underneath it, fervor.
“What does Sisk have to do with it?” I snap. “What’s the plan? Throw me in and you think she’s gonna crawl into your bed out of solitude?”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then explain it.”
“If you throw me in, you’ll never know how to save her.”
My grip tightens. My chest tightens. “Save her from what?”
“You’re already too late.”
A chill crawls up my spine. “Too late for what?”
“Jax, let him go!” Sisk yells, and I hear more footsteps pounding behind us.
She skids to a stop just a foot away. “Jax!”
I twist to put him down, but he lunges sideways—not away from me, but toward Sisk. He grabs her arm, and I react instantly, yanking him backward, but he slips as one foot, already half-sunk in tar, loses traction and the ground crumbles under him. I watch as he grabs the first thing he can reach—her.
Sisk screams as he clamps onto her wrist, and she stumbles forward, her heel sliding in loose dirt.
“No—!” she cries as everything happens at once. I try to grab her other arm, but the edge gives out, and Sisk falls forward into the pit with Ivan going right after her.
I jump without thinking, without weighing consequences. All I see is her going down,and I know I can't lose her.
The Pit isn’t a pool; it’s a collapsed bowl in the earth. The tar feels like a searing cold that smolders, a crushing weight that pulls me down, moving through it is like fighting wet sand. I manage to grab Sisk, but she’s already sinking too fast.
Ivan is screaming now, clawing at both of us, his fingers digging into my shoulder, and I shove him away, watching him sink deeper.
“Jax!” Sisk screams, the tar now at her ribs.
“I’ve got you,” I growl, my arms locking around her waist as the tar pulls at my legs like hands. From somewhere to my left, Ivan’s voice is a high, desperate shriek. “Help! Help, let me go! I did what you said! I did everything you asked! Please!” It’s a constant stream of panicked nonsense.