I should probably be worried. Connor and Murphy haven't said a word to me since we left McGinty's, muttering back and forth in some guttural, impossible language I can't even begin to identify, much less understand (I just know they had one of those "twin speak" languages when they were kids). I'm sure they're plotting my demise in retaliation for the stunt I pulled back in the bar, but I'm still pretty buzzed right now, so I'm fairly cheerful as we three trudge through the snow.

We're not too far from the subway station, as McGinty's is only three or so blocks away, but the snow is making the going a bit slower than normal. The boys are just up ahead of me, and they seem pretty absorbed in their conversation as I wander along behind them. I'd like to think they're discussing something lovely but secretive, like a nice surprise instead of the vengeful kind, but I know them both much better than that now.

Something pokes me sharply in the foot, derailing my train of thought, and I stop to lean against a nearby wall. Balancing on one foot is tricky for me when I'm sober (even leaning against a wall), so I feel fairly accomplished when I manage to pull my boot off without toppling over. Peering inside, I frown when I don't immediately spot anything, so I insert two fingers, digging around until the mystery item stabs me again. I tweeze my fingers together, pulling them out to reveal...a toothpick.

Oh, that is so nasty.

Hoping fervently the toothpick is Murphy's from earlier (not that that isn't still extremely gross, but at least I know whose mouth it came from), I shudder and flick it to the side before sliding my boot back on. As I straighten up, a flash of red catches my eyes. Across the street, a woman struggles through the snow in the opposite direction from us, passing in front of a narrow alleyway. Her bright cerise coat stands out cheerfully against the swirling white, reminding me strangely and suddenly of a fairy tale I read as a kid, and I'm still tipsy enough to wonder if she's going to visit her grandmother.

As if on cue, a man steps out from the alley, and I'm so engrossed in my drunken daydreaming that for a second I think it's actually a wolf. I shake my head at my ridiculous imagination, hurrying to catch up with Connor and Murphy. They haven't noticed my distraction and are almost a block ahead of me, barely visible through the swirling snow.

But I'm uneasy, whether from my Little Red Riding Hood fantasy or from seeing a woman walking by herself so late at night, and I glance back over to check on her progress. She's gone, as is the man, and now I'm definitely anxious. I open my mouth to call out to Connor and Murphy when I see a flash of red in the alley and hear a muffled yell.

I'm across the street and leaping onto the sidewalk before I even realize I've moved from my side of the road. I have no clue what I'm doing, and the alcohol in my system is still muddling my thoughts. That's probably why I'm not scared, even though I should be terrified and heading in the other direction. I've never been in a single real fight, but all I can think about is getting to that woman before something happens to her.

I have time to register a second man throwing her to the ground while the first man watches, and I know one of them is yelling something, but there's a strange buzzing sound filling my hearing, and then my thought process goes into panic mode. Without another attempt at thought, I leap onto the first man's back, my hands flailing at his face as I scramble for purchase.

He obviously wasn't expecting to have to suddenly defend himself, and I manage to rake my nails down the side of his face, perilously close to his eye, before he gets a grip on one of my legs and slings me down onto a pile of random alley detritus. My head bounces, white stars bursting across my vision, and I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed anymore. Pain explodes down my side as I slam onto something hard that cracks under the force of my landing, and I shriek as something like fire lances down my calf.

Then everything seems to get really far away.

There's nothing but muffled screaming and panicked thrashing all around me for what feels like a very long time, but it's like I'm experiencing it all through insulation. Then I'm freezing, and my eyes are definitely open, but all I can see is the blood streaming down someone's face, and I can't remember why I should care who he is. I know he's bellowing at me; there's specks of spittle flying from his mouth, and I can see every one of his rotten, decaying teeth inches from my face, but I can't understand him, don't understand anything that's going on anymore until his hands close hard around my throat and my vision starts to gray along the edges.

My body remembers to struggle before I do, my hands beating uselessly against his arms, and while my thoughts are still scattered, they're still frustratingly lucid. I don't know whatever happened to the other woman, but from the sounds coming from nearby, she's faring about as well as I am. I don't know where Connor and Murphy are, but I hope they've noticed I'm not with them anymore. It feels like it's been years that I've been in this alley, been burning with pain, burning with trying draw in a breath, burning, so cold and tired, and…

Then the hands are gone. I remember all at once that I need to actively do something about breathing, and while drawing in that first free breath is the single most painful experience of my life, I cherish every moment of it.

Gagging, choking, and sobbing, I start to roll to my side, but I'm brought up short by a world of pain that forces me onto my back again. My breath comes in short, hysterical gasps that send pain shooting across my ribs in jagged bolts. I'm close to panicking again; I can't draw a deep breath, like I'm still suffocating, and I can't...I can't—

Warm, rough, infinitely gentle hands clasp my face, and a calm voice says, "Breathe, love. Stop panickin' an' breathe. Slow, steady. S'gonna hurt, but ye gotta breathe. Stay wit'me, now, open yer eyes an' look at me so I know ye c'n hear me."

It's a struggle, but nowhere near the struggle of pulling in air, and I open my eyes to find Connor hovering over me, his hands pressed to my cheeks. I stop focusing on the panic and start focusing on the soothing rise and fall of Connor's voice, matching my breathing to his as best I can, and after a couple of minutes, I'm something resembling calm.

"What—" I start to croak, but I can't get the word out, and Connor hushes me.

"Shouldn't try to talk, jus' take it easy. Are ye—"

His face blurs, and suddenly he's talking to me from the other side of a long tunnel, which I don't understand because there aren't any tunnels like that in this area. I don't want him to go, but I'm tired, and sleep is-

"Hey! Come back, girl! Gotta stay awake! "

"No...don't wanna…"

"There she is," Connor mutters, and I can hear the relief in his voice. I force my eyes open and while Connor's face is still right next to mine, the angle is odd, and I realize he's holding me. "Murph, y'got t'other girl?"

"Aye, let's go," he replies tersely.

Every step Connor takes jostles me, every breath I take hurts, and I can't stop the tears leaking from my eyes. "Connor…"

"S'gonna be alright, love, gonna get Roc to drive us t'hospital an' get ye takin' care of." His voice is strained, and when I risk a glance at his face, I'm sorry I did. There are so many emotions warring across in his expression, I'm exhausted all over again just trying to decipher them.

"Lass, I know ye can't talk much, but try to tell me a little of what happened. Ye gotta stay awake for me. Can y'do dat?"

"Saw...red riding...hood. Wolf...he took her...alley...had to...help." I don't know why he's asking, but I don't feel very mentally clear on much of anything right now. Maybe if I just close my eyes, I can sort everything out, and-

"Open yer eyes, girl, stay awake. Can't doze off yet. Murph, she ain't talkin' straight; see if ye c'n hurry ahead t'get Roc so-"

And then bright lights are blinding me, and Connor is shouting something at someone, and I crack my eyes open against the brilliance. I think...hospital? When did we get here? Then there's a streak of pain as someone touches my leg, and I moan against the horrible pressure.

"Where's the blood coming from?" someone asks.

All I hear is the word "leg" before black rushes in and engulfs me completely.