Page 20

Fuck, she’s something when she cries. Her screams of pleasure were enjoyable, but her agony? That’s fucking music.

Castor’s move was a stroke of genius. I’m almost jealous I didn’t think of it, but I wouldn’t have been able to follow through. Not like him. Castor is obsessed with pussy. The girls he brought in at our old hideout in Washington DC would practically drool at the sight of him, and then limp to the door afterwards with a stupid smile on their faces. In the beginning, it was fun to watch, but then one of the girls fucked him over, and it’s less fun now. I’ve no fucking idea why he’s so obsessed with that. I’d wanted to choke Helena on my cock until she passed out, and bring her back to do it again and again until she talked.

That is fun.

But Castor has an annoying amount of morals. Fucking unwilling parties is against his values, as if eating her out wasn’t basically the same thing.

I sigh, moving through the broken fence line and into the thicket of woods up ahead. It was enough to give us the location, so I suppose it wasn’t a total loss.

The forest is alight with life. Birds and insects fill the silence, giving the land a soft hymn that’s only broken momentarily by the broken branches as we move in. It’s a lot like Pennsylvania, all the way down to the frigid winters, though we didn’t have the mountains to line the town I grew up in.

I lived on a hilltop, surrounded by the tall oak that I’d climb every summer, just to watch the animals move under me. My grandfather beat my ass every time he caught me, before he refrained and taught me how to hunt on the ground, but every now and again, when he was out at the gun range, I’d still climb on the trees, watching the animals scatter when they saw me, all except for a black bear that I would later earn my title after.

I pull my blade. The edges are stained with red—small streaks of Helena’s blood, painting over the white blade like streaks of lightning. A smile creeps at the edge of my mouth. Oh, to make her scream again, to hear her stubborn mouth break and shatter and finally beg for me to stop. Fuck, it makes me want to shove my cock down her throat.

“I see why you like her,” I say, wiping the sharp edge of my blades. “She’s definitely something to watch. Watching her scream like that…I was almost jealous for a minute or two.”

Castor shakes his head, moving over a large rotting log. “I never stopped you,” he says. “You were more than welcome to join in.”

“I prefer a different kind of scream.”

If an eye roll was audible, Castor would’ve alerted every damn animal within 10 miles of us.

“And yet, somehow, I managed to give her both,” he crows.

“You have your methods and I have mine,” I argue but Castor doesn’t care. He never does, the stubborn fucker.

We come up on a narrow creek, the edges tinged with frost being washed away by the flowing water. Castor steps over it with hardly any effort.

Show off.

I don’t bother, trudging through the frigid water, crossing it in three strides. The water barely penetrates the thick material of my steel-toe boots, but it snags on the cuff of my pants, creating a ring of cold around my ankles. I pay it no mind. Bane’s blood will be sufficient enough to warm me up.

“You have all the pussy you could eat and yet you choose to live like that.” Castor gestures to me. “How bad is your fear of cats?”

“Shut it!” I bark.

Castor breathes out a silent laugh before continuing on to the bare trees ahead of us.

Cats. Animals. Instinct. Kill. Grandfather taught me a lot of things. My body is my greatest weapon. I use it to hunt, to kill and to strike fear into every living creature that dares to cross my path. But it’s also your greatest weakness. If you’re not using it to intimidate or kill, you’re allowing yourself to be weak and weakness can get you killed.

Sex is a dangerous weapon, and lust is a drug I’d rather not indulge in without purpose. I’m not Castor, and I don’t have the alarming amount of self control that he does. Lust is a drug—an addiction—and addictions can turn to attachments. Attachments are weakness. I’d rather cut out my own eyes first than to get attached to anything.

I’m a hunter. A killer. That’s what I was born to do. That’s what I love, and I’m not about to let my dick rule my actions. Animals are much more tolerable than people, and the only lust I intend on indulging in is the kind that Acacia’s blood can satisfy.

“I’m surprised she broke at all,” Castor’s voice cuts through the silence. “With the way she behaves, I thought she’d hold out longer.”

“Everyone breaks, Castor. Everyone.”

He shrugs.

“She has her limits but, fuck, that woman is venomous. I almost felt bad. She could’ve been useful.”

Useful. The thought makes bile rise up on my tongue.

“I’d hardly find her useful,” I spit. “The rendezvous was the only worthwhile thing she’s probably done in her life. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll take care of her like Fury was supposed to.”

Castor pauses, his hand caught on a branch as he stares ahead. I don’t need to ask. Fury disappeared shortly after the attack on the base, and our eyes on Acacia have been severely stunted, even with their technology we kept.

“Have you heard anything?” Castor says after a moment.

I step up, ducking underneath the branch caught in Castor’s hand. His knuckles turn white and the bark chips away under his grip as it tightens.

“They’re alive,” I assure him. “They’ll contact us when they’re ready.” A chime on my burner phone snaps us both back to the present. “We’re close.”

I glance through the thick brush of trees. Through the branches and trunks, just barely visible, is a small village—the same one we’d passed through here days ago.

Lienz.

My hand grips the leather handle of my blade. We walked right fucking past it—right fucking past the same place where Bane was sitting on his fat ass watching us chase him in circles.

I release my grip, letting out a heavy breath before drawing the Beretta holstered at my side. Castor does the same with his rifle, clasping the metal calmly in his hands.

When a branch snaps nearby, I pull him to a stop. He turns to speak but another branch snaps and he goes silent. Soft footsteps—one after the other—moving slowly towards us. It’s barely enough to hear, but enough that it silences the forest. They’re too even to be an animal, too quiet.

I crouch low, until my knee scrapes against the ground while I balance on the other. Soft crunching of leaves under they’re feet just inside the shadows of the trees. Bane, unfortunately, isn’t stupid enough to wander in the woods alone, but it doesn’t mean that one of his sentries wouldn’t be.

Castor watches from behind a tree and I hold my gun tightly in my hands. He nods towards my gun and I shake my head. He had his turn with Helena. It’s my turn for a little fun.

The second I lurch from behind the trees, a shrill scream fills the air and a box falls to the ground and dozens of books spill out.

The elderly lady leaps back, clutching her chest while she tries to catch her breath.

Shit.

I lower my gun instantly, tucking it back into its holster on my hip, just as her eyes zero in on me, morphing from fear to rage.

“Shame on you for frightening an old woman!” She shouts in a thick German accent. “What are you doing out here?”

My brows push together and I glance at Castor before my eyes fall to the books scattered along the ground. Bibles. Her skirt is long, dusting the ground and her white-streaked brown hair is pinned neatly back behind her that shows off the silver cross around her neck.

I groan. I almost shot a fucking minister.

Castor’s already tucked away his rifle behind his back while the minister rages to herself in German. He catches my eye, tapping the edge of his tactical vest.

Nodding, I remove a small German police patch and attach it to my chest with Castor. Another gift from Fury.

The minister finally takes a moment to breathe before bending down to pick up the box that fell to the ground. “Children, scaring old women in the woods,” she mutters.

I straighten, tucking my coat to flash my badge and my sidearm.

“We’re tracking an intruder that went this way.” I lower my voice, and she glances up at me. “A man was murdered not far from here.”

“Oh my god!” Her hand flies up to her mouth, and I have to fight a smile.

Castor moves in front of me, speaking as I cough out a laugh.

“Here.” Castor bends down, offering her Bibles as he picks them up. “He would be about 1.82 meters, slender build, brown hair. Have you seen any man that matches the description?”

The woman takes the books from his hands, stacking them neatly into the box. They’re scribbled in German, several words I can’t read, but the cross across each of them is unmistakable. Languages aren’t my strong suit. Castor is damn near fluent in all of them, but Italian is the only language I know, back in the days where I thought I’d find use for it.

But even in all the illegible words of the books they finish stacking, a small section stands out—a tiny banner at the top of the book, marking a church.

Ascension Christian Assembly.

“We haven’t seen anyone like that around here,” the minister concedes.

Castor nods, his head cocked to the side as he picks up the box. “Your English is fluent. Studying abroad?”

“Teaching,” she corrects. “ I learned my English many years ago. The missionaries have been very helpful with the children.”

“Missionaries?”

The minister looks at me, her brow furrowed as she glances between me and the box.

“Yes.” She moves past the two of us, trekking through the woods with ease. “We don’t see the church very much anymore. They’ll send us supplies for the school every now and again. Ascension is a beautiful place. They will take in some of our teenagers to help with the church and they offer shelter to the troubled.”

Castor walks alongside her, helping her cross through the path of broken branches and thorny bushes that snag on her dress.

“A lot of churches are humanitarians,” he says. “They run off of donations.

She waves him off, a smile on her face. “Oh they don’t like donations. They just appreciate it when they have volunteers learn to become missionaries.”

My eyes narrow. That doesn’t sound right. I’ve never been religious, at least not enough to go to church, but churches still need money to operate.

Castor doesn’t look back, but the shift in his posture is enough to tell me that he senses something too.

“What was the name of the church again?” Castor asks.

“Ascension Church and Christian International Assembly,” she laughs. “It is hard for the children to pronounce. We all call it Ascension.” Her eyes light up when she sees the beginnings of a clearing ahead. Her pace quickens as she makes her way to a dirt road just outside of the trees that lead directly into the town.

I stop.

The town is beautiful. Dozens of houses line the roads in clusters, forming a soft circle that the trees surround. At the top of the hill where we stand, the mountains stand visible, towering over the small town. People wander about on foot, chatting and conversing amongst each other as we move in throughout it. Small cobblestone paths mark the roads in the center, and the minister moves directly through it, greeting people that she passes. Castor does the same, speaking in perfect German, smiling and laughing as they all talk about god knows what.

A group of children cut through my path and I nearly fall over. They don’t stop, chasing a ball as it rolls along the stone. A town full of people who are happy, who don’t seem to care of the chaos that happens around them. It disgusts me.

Castor and the minister circle around a building that rests on the mountainside. The small school house is full of children laughing and playing outside out front, and the group of kids before, chase the ball to the treeline by the rocky hills.

“We don’t get as many visitors anymore,” the minister laments. “Ever since the avalanche scared off the hikers and sherpas, the tourists stopped coming.”

Castor glances in my direction.

The minister moves into the school, Castor and I trailing close behind. The children push past me, running between my legs as they run and scream in joy inside the small school.

“ Beruhige dich! Inside voices,” the woman shouts. The children quiet down instantly and move about slower as they rush about the play amongst themselves.

I stand back in the corner, while Castor sets the box of books down on a desk nearby. Several kids run up to him immediately, arms raised for attention from the friendly stranger.

I scoff. Thousands of people have died at our hands. Men, women and children, and yet, here Castor is, giving kids piggyback rides like he hadn’t ripped a man’s head off his shoulders days ago.

A dull poke at my leg draws me back to a small child, a boy likely no older than five years old. He glances up at me, his eyes wide and mouth agape. His brown hair falls over his hair in tufts, contrasting his pale skin.

“Hello,” he says in a poorly accented voice.

I press my lips together, giving him a curt nod before turning back to the window. Acacia has yet to make an appearance since the attack. Bane rarely takes time to plan things thoroughly, but Alastor, I can’t speak for. If Bane is in Lienz, then they may be—

The boy tugs on the leg of my pants.

“Hey. Hey,” he nags.

I sigh.

“What is it, kid?”

His hand lets go. “Your face looks weird.”

“Mhmm.” I lean against the wall. I wouldn’t mind a fight right about now. Someone, save me from this nauseating town. Just a small knife fight. Something.

The boy points at my face, the scar marking over my eye. “What’s that?”

“A scar.”

“From what?”

I lean down, slicking my hair back enough to showcase the jagged line running overtop my right eye and across my temple to my hairline—a gift from Bane before I returned the gesture.

“A knife fight.” I keep my voice low, hoping I’d scare the kid enough to leave me alone, but his eyes brighten with curiosity and he reaches out to touch it. I flinch for a second but allow his tiny hands to run across the marred flesh.

“Woah.” His hand drops from my face before reaching for a toy on the ground and offers it to me. “This is my sacrifice.”

I blink.

“Take it!” He shakes the toy in front of me.

I eye the plastic horse gripped loosely in his hands. When I take it, that same light comes back to his eyes and he grabs my hand, peeling me away from the wall to a group of kids, babbling.

“You have to get all the horses to the circle and then ask the gods to sacrifice them, but if they say no then the demon gets you, then you die and only the angel can bring you back. But if the angel is dead then everyone is dead. But you have to find them first because they’re all hiding.”

What the fuck?

I’d laugh if I thought the kid was joking, but the kids all stand in a circle, each with their own ‘sacrifice’, running around while another chases them.

The boy takes my horse and joins the group, running and hiding before dramatically falling to the ground when one of them touches him. I don’t move. My eyes scan over the kids, who seem to look right through me, and I let my gaze drift back to the window. Something isn’t right. Maybe I’ve been stuck in a warzone the day I turned eighteen, but there’s something oddly happy about this place. Something that makes my stomach turn.

“Are you winning?”

My eyes snap back as Castor nods towards the group of kids running around me, several horses now dropped at my feet.

“I have no fucking clue. I think one of them sacrificed my horse.” The kids collect in a circle around several other horses piled in the center, chanting in German.

If this was a cult, I’d definitely believe it.

I shuffle away from the group of kids, barely making it back to the doors before the boy runs up to me again.

“Wanna play hide and seek?” he asks.

I huff. “Not right now, kid. I’m busy.”

He tugs at my pant leg again and I snatch it away.

“I said no, kid!”

The boy steps back, his bright eyes crinkling as his lip quivers.

Goddammit.

I crouch down to his level, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll play in a few minutes, okay? I promise.” I force a smile, which he mirrors with a genuine one of his own before he runs back to the other kids.

I stand, wiping the hand that touched him on my pants. I catch Castor’s amused stare and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t say anything,” I warn.

“That’s the longest interaction you’ve had with a child in years.”

“With good reason.”

His touch burns into my skin and bile rises in my throat, but I look at the kid anyway. Attachments are a weakness. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way.

“Did you find anything?” I say after a moment.

Castor shakes his head.

“I’ll keep searching, but I haven’t seen anything. With Dietrich dead, there’s no one that could clue us into their whereabouts. Maybe Helena was wrong.”

My lip curls, agitation burning through me. “Or she misled us.” My hand wraps around the hilt of my knife, squeezing it tightly.

“Not here,” Castor says. “There’s kids here. We don’t need to cause a scene. Let’s get back to the mines before she wakes up.”

I frown. I came here to kill, not indulge in a town too ignorant to realize that life isn’t a happy place where you can roam and joke about death like it’s years away. I need to kill something. Now.

“Fine.” I flex my hand away from my knife. “But we’re doing things my way when we get back.”

Castor opens his mouth, but the minister’s warm voice fills the air first.

“The children are about to have supper. Are you hungry?”

“No. We need to keep moving.” I glance around the room while Castor ushers her away. The feeling is still there. It won’t go away. A town this perfect is grating, but it’s more than that. The sooner we get out of it, the better.

Castor appears at my side, watching me as I scan the area again. He calls my name, but I don’t answer. There’s something. Something that isn’t right—something that draws me to grab at my knife, to arm myself, children be damned. There’s something watching us, but what?

My eyes fall on one of the bibles spread out on a table, as if the German words would spell an answer. Why would a church deny donations? How do they get the money to print the books?

I read the name over and over again.

Ascension.

What is wrong with it?

My eyes narrow on those words. What did the minister call them again?

A scension C hurch A nd C hristian I nternational A ssembly.

No fucking way.

“Baron.”

My eyes snap to the window as trucks roar outside, louder than the small cars that traveled along the roads of the town. I don’t need to look to confirm it but when I see Dietrich’s car, rage swallows me up.

“Bane.”

“Are they back already?” The minister moves next to us, glancing out the window for only a moment before Castor pulls her away. He pushes her into a classroom and I follow, shutting the door behind us and away from the children. The woman protests, shouting in German while I shut the blinds.

“That bitch set us up!” I glance out the window. Dozens of cars appear, surrounding the school on all sides. Several men exit, drawing rifles and arming the others.

I turn back to Castor. “We need to leave now.”

“There’s a door in the back of the building,” Castor draws his rifle and nods towards the door of the main room.

The woman shrieks, hysterical and angry. “What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t have that in here!”

“Take the kids and find cover,” I order her.

The woman jumps in front of us, blocking our path. “No, why would I–”

I draw my gun, silencing her. “Lady, I’m not fucking around anymore.” I check the clip of my gun, counting the bullets and spares in my vest before loading it.

She stares wide eyed, quieter, but no less angry.

“You can’t have that in here. This is a school and there are children here.”

A door slams and Castor clamps a hand over the minister’s mouth. She muffles angry German words that I’m sure her kids wouldn’t want to hear before Castor flashes her a hard look and she finally goes silent.

“I think we’ve moved past the pleasantries, Minister,” he says calmly. “You’re smart enough to understand that something could happen to your kids if you keep screaming, so I will tell you this once, and you will listen. Speak quietly and do what we say.” He pauses and I can see the tears in her eyes. “Nod if you understand.”

She nods slowly and when Castor removes his hand, she is painfully still. Still and silent.

“I want you to calmly walk through the door and take the kids to the back.” He nods toward the door. “Tell them you’re playing a game, going on a trip, I don’t care. Just keep them quiet and do not let them see you.”

I tip the blinds, glancing outside just long enough to see Bane exit one of the vehicles.

“He’s here.”

The woman turns to both of us, striding towards the window.

“Why are you telling me to hide the children? The church has always been kind to them,” she argues.

My blood boils and my hands are practically vibrating with the need to kill something. Bane is twenty feet from us and I’m arguing with an old lady who won’t fucking listen.

“That’s not a church and they are not kind,” I say.

“I don’t believe you.” She rips off the police badge on my chest. “You are not police.”

My eyes narrow and I step towards the woman.

“You’re right. We’re killers.” I grab her roughly and pull her towards the window, lifting the blinds just enough so she can see. “And your church are the men that tried to kill us. They aren’t missionaries. They’re mercenaries.”

The woman watches silently as the men move about ostentatiously, guns and vests on every single contractor. They look just shy of a military, but the way they move about haphazardly makes it painfully obvious they’re not. So much for their godly pretense.

One of the contractors pulls a man towards them, gun dipped under his chin as they speak harshly to the townspeople. The man frantically points at the school and the contractor releases the man, only to shoot him seconds later.

The minister gasps, reeling back until the blinds loudly snap shut. She opens her mouth to speak but Castor places a finger to his lips.

“Back. Door.”

The woman nods frantically and ushers out the door, speaking sharply in German to the kids in the main room.

We move in, watching as the kids are corralled into a group. “We need to draw their fire,” I say. “What’s your plan?”

“The kids aren’t going to stay quiet. We need to move away from the school. I doubt this building can withstand their arsenal, but we can use it to take the bulk of their hits.”

The minister ushers the kids through the hallway where the backdoor lies. Their faces are unsure, confused. They know something is wrong. Even if Castor and I are able to maintain the illusion of indifference, it’s painfully obvious on the minister’s trembling hands that something is wrong.

A gunshot sounds from outside and several kids jump back, quiet cries emitting from the crowd. I spot the little boy, his hands wrapped around himself, hugging his horse tightly as his chest rises and falls in panic. Another gunshot echoes and the boy starts to cry.

“Hey, hey,” I shush him, crouching down to his level. “We’re going to play another game. A grown up game. But you need to show me that you can play, okay? Just like the older kids.”

The boy stops sobbing but tears stream down his cheeks. My heart stutters and aches, but I ignore it. I give him a smile and point at his horse.

“It’s going to be a little different from this one, but you can do it right? Only the big kids are allowed to play. There’s no good horse in this game, so you need to be extra quiet so you’re not out, okay? That’s how the big kids play. You’re a big kid, aren’t you?”

He sniffles and a smile grows on his face before he nods. “Are you going to play?”

My chest constricts. I nod.

“I’ll play with you, buddy. I promised, remember?” I press a finger to my lips and he mimics my movement with a giggle before he disappears into the other room with the minister.

The second they disappear, Castor and I move out. We crouch by each of the double doors in the front. Shouts and small gunshots sound every so often, but Bane’s barking makes it clear—he’s looking for us. Castor crouches in front of the door, signaling up toward the glass pane up top. I nod, readying my gun.

He fires, the bullets rapidly shattering the glass. Several shouts call out from outside as they make contact and the fire is returned seconds later. They rain down on the thick doors, splintering and chipping at the wood but not breaking it.

Several minutes pass but their fire dies out until there’s nothing left. Scrambling is heard from the other side and with a readied nod from Castor, I kick open the doors and open fire.

Most of the contractors are dead. The ones that are alive are sheltered behind trucks, frantically reloading their bullets as Castor and I rain our own hell down onto them. We run away from the school and separate amongst a thicket of buildings. Gunfire stutters from the remaining contractors, but they’re dead before I empty my first clip of bullets. The entire road is covered in bodies, paved in blood of contractors and civilians that had done nothing but exist near us.

Rage festers inside me, a boiling fire through my veins, especially when Bane sits in his damn trucks, legs crossed, watching us patiently.

I step away from my hiding spot among the stone buildings around me, daring to step closer towards him. Bane. The man that single-handedly killed millions of people without lifting a single fucking finger. It takes all of my willpower not to shoot him where he stands, but I know better. If Bane is sitting there, unharmed, it’s for a reason.

“If that’s all the firepower Acacia has, then you must be having a shitty day,” I call out. “I expected more from you.”

A few stray contractors appear next to Bane, blocking him with their own bodies and taking aim at me. I raise my gun, but Bane steps out, holding them off with the wave of his hand.

“Good to see you again, Arik.” Bane steps from his truck, landing on one of the contractor’s bodies that crunch underneath his boots. He looks around, his abnormally large nose turned up towards the sky. “Where’s your dog?”

A shot rings out from the rooftop above me. Castor peers below the scope of his rifle, his face dark. “Next one is in your head.”

Bane doesn’t even look up, keeping his eyes locked on me. “He’s less obedient than the last time I saw him. You should tighten that leash or he could hurt someone.”

“What a shame that would be.” I nod towards the two contractors behind him, the muzzles of their rifles trained lazily on me. “If you want to keep running your mouth, I’ll gladly show your subordinates where I get the material for my knives.”

“You’d be dead before you broke skin.” He throws his hands in his pockets, striding around the courtyard while he nudges dead bodies with his foot. “But I am curious as to what brought you here.”

My jaw clenches.

So she did set us up.

I roll my shoulders, matching his annoying indifference with a sharp laugh.

“Easy to track when you’re stampeding through the woods. I’ve seen three year olds with better stealth.”

My eyes dart to movement just out of the corner of my eye. The minister waves on a group of children, leading them in threes through the clearing behind the school and into the woods beside the mountains.

Bane snorts out a laugh.

“Interesting choice of words.” His eyes scan over me. “Where are the kids? They’re usually out playing by now.”

I don’t look back. I can feel the minister frozen nearby, the soft shallow breaths of the children cowering behind her.

“You think I give a fuck?” I bark.

“Would you?” Bane taunts.

Run. Fucking run and don’t look back. The minister is still standing there, the clearing too noticeable to cross with attention on them. I want to shoot them all myself, if not to save Bane from the torment he will cause them if they’re caught.

I don’t care about a lot of things. I shouldn’t care about them. I’ve killed children before, but that was a different life—one I am no longer proud of.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

Helena led him here, and if Bane so much as touches a single child in that school—

Bane turns, speaking to the two contractors behind him before he side-steps, and my eyes lock in the little boy, still clutching his little plastic horse.

“Let’s find out.” The two contractors raise their guns towards the boy.

“No!” I raise my gun, shooting one contractor in the head while the other stumbles back. The boy runs, screaming and crying towards the school and all hell breaks loose.

Gunfire seizes the air, directly at me and Castor. We open fire, Castor striking Bane several times in the chest, but they bounce off like they have no effect on him.

I duck behind the building as more bullets rain down. Children are screaming and I check around the building and the sight fucking rips me apart.

They’re firing on the children.

They run frantically from the woods, where several other contractors emerge, herding them out into the open. Several fall down, convulsing as blood pools from their bodies, while others scream and cry and beg for their life.

I put down my gun and step away from the building.

“Stop! They’re children! Leave them alone!”

Bane is similarly unaffected and his back is to me, watching passively as the children go down one by one. Dozens of them take shelter in the building while Castor takes each contractor down.

“Baron!” Castor calls over the fire. “Get your gun!”

I snap out of my trance and pick up my gun, shooting any contractor who dares to get in the way.

The minister fights back, locking the door from the outside before she rips a gun from one of the contractors.

“Get away from my kids!” She screams.

The rifle goes off in a rapid fire and she lays waste to any contractors near the entrance, before she’s struck down seconds later.

Castor and I shoot and fire, but the more we take down, the more appear from the treeline. I lock eyes with the little boy. His horse is still tucked in his arms and his hair is ruffled and tinged with the blood of his classmates.

A large boom sounds from directly behind the school and I see a fucking grenade launcher hidden inside Bane’s vehicle. The boy darts out of the door, sprinting towards me and through the fire of bullets.

“Kid, no!” I sprint towards him. Castor’s name calls frantically out for me, but inches before I can touch the childs tiny little hands, another boom sounds and the school goes up in smoke.

I fall back from the force, my lungs flattened for a moment. My ears ring painfully and my vision blurs.

“Kid…” I mumble. I sit up, willing my vision to clear, and when it does, it settles on a small lump burning on the ground. The boy.

His eyes are squeezed shut and his body is sprawled haphazardly across the stone street. Other children run from the building, screaming and desperately trying to put out the flames caught on their skin.

My chest squeezes and I move over to the child. A fucking child.

As I place my hand on his chest, I catch sight of the horse still tucked tightly into his chest.

A gunshot sends me flying back. The contractors resume fire and I see Bane standing in the center of it all, watching it with a gleam in his eye, the ghost of a smile on his face.

I roll behind a building, reaching for my gun.

Where the fuck is my gun?

A hand pulls me to my feet, pushing me towards the clear alley weaving between the buildings. “Come on! Let’s go!”

The children scream—tiny balls of fire dancing in between the hail of bullets in our direction. My fists clench with anger and agony. They’re burning, screaming for help to people who couldn’t care about their pain. They wanted us, and Helena led them straight to us.

I pick up a discarded rifle and sling it over my back. I can’t look back at the bodies this time.

I take off down the alley.