by Lena August
Chapter 23
The first half of the trip passes in a daze. Somewhere along the way, Flynn comes to sit next to me, his presence comforts me. I lean against him and close my eyes, feeling like I could stay this way forever, but as I brush up against his side, he winces and I immediately sit up.
“You never had anyone look at your cut,” I say reproachfully, “It could be really serious.”
“I’ve survived worse,” Flynn says unconcernedly but I refuse to let him ignore it.
“Will you at least let me look at it?” I demand and Flynn sighs and rolls his eyes. Resignedly, he lifts his shirt, uncovering a gruesome stab just below his ribs.
“Flynn!” I gasp staring at the horrific sight.
“It’s okay,” Flynn reassures me, “It just looks bad, it’s really not that deep.”
I try to keep my composure, aware the one of the guards is watching us curiously.
“We need to get this washed. You could get an infection.” I say shakily.
“It can wait until we are back at Innocents,” he assures me. He gives me a grim smile, “I think I can stay alive that long.”
“You’d better,” I grumble not wanting to say any more, noticing that the guard who was watching us before has come up behind us.
“That’s quite the scar you have there,” the guard says, gesturing to the scar spanning across Flynn’s chest. Flynn hastily drops his shirt to cover the mark but the guard is still watching him. “What’s the story behind it?” Flynn eyes him coldly and I silently beg him not do to anything that would make the guard suspicious.
Thankfully, Flynn keeps his cool, “I got in the middle of a fight before I came to Innocents, ended up getting cut pretty bad.”
The guard narrows his eyes and I find myself getting uneasy. Does he somehow know that something is wrong? “You look familiar, what island where you assigned to before coming here?”
I jump in, “He was a maintenance worker on Addicts,” I say, hoping my interruption won’t cause too much suspicion. The guard glares at me and I swallow hard, something is clearly wrong.
“And who was your instructor back on Innocents,” he inquires. Flynn frowns and my mind anxiously searches for a way to avoid the question. I notice that Flynn’s hand is casually moving toward his belt where he usually keeps his knife hidden. I slowly reach for my own knife but freeze when I realize the familiar weight is missing from my hip. A memory surfaces from my brain, the Murderer’s guards taking our weapons after we made it through the gate. We are completely unarmed. Flynn seems to realize this at the same moment I do, and for the first time, his dark eyes look nervous.
“Listen,” he tells the guard, “We just spent two weeks on Murderers, seeing our friends killed right in front of us; we really aren’t in the mood to answer…” Before Flynn can finish his sentence the guard makes a sudden movement his hand diving to his waist withdrawing a black metal object.
My blood goes cold, it may have been twelve years since I last saw one, but I recognize a gun when I see it, and right now, it’s pointed directly at Flynn’s head. The guard’s partner abandons his position at the steering wheel looking confused at the sudden tension that has filled the boat. He draws his own gun but keeps it awkwardly at his side as though unsure what to do with it.
“Hey, what’s going on here, Shamus?” he asks bewilderedly. Shamus, the guard who has his gun pointed at Flynn, doesn’t take his eye off Flynn.
“I’ve seen this one before; it’s been bothering me ever since they came on board. I just assumed I knew him from around Innocents. But just now it came to me; I remember where I’ve seen him. It was on Murderers, about a year ago. He came up to the fence, offering to trade information on the clan leader of the Domus, Marek Holden, in exchange for supplies. This isn’t the Innocent, Calder Schultz, this is Holden’s personal guard, or at least that’s what he introduced himself as at the time.”
The second guard curses under his breath but remains where he is at.
“What do we do?” he asks nervously.
Shamus doesn’t hesitate, “He’s guilty of endangering the people of Innocents, attempted escape, and undoubtedly the murder of the real Calder Schultz. We must execute him for his crimes.” I release a small panicked noise, and Shamus’s partner turns his attention towards me, “What about the girl and the injured boy?”
Shamus studies me shrewdly, “We’ll take them back to Innocents and let the PSC decide their fate,” he decides. The guard near me nods in agreement and I notice his gun is still held loosely at his side. Without thinking, I lunge toward the guard, wrestling the gun from his hand. Shamus whirls around to face me and pulls the trigger.
The bullet whizzes past my ear and I escape death by a millimeter. Instinctively, I point the gun at Shamus and fire. The bullet embeds itself in his brain and the guard falls heavily to the floor, his eyes blank with death. The surviving guard is fumbling around for something; a knife, I realize. He’s back on his feet, coming at me fast. Hating myself, I do the only thing left; I shoot. He falls with the same sickening thud as Shamus, his limbs bent at unnatural angles, blood trickling from a small, clean hole in his head. I slowly slide to the floor, the gun clattering to the ground beside me. My hands are shaking badly, my ears still ringing from the sound of the gunshot.
Flynn hurries to my side, his voice sounds like it’s coming from the end of a long tunnel; I can’t discern what he is saying. “Brie! Brie, are you okay? Dammit, Brie, answer me!” He grabs my arm and the contact is enough to shake me from my trance. My eyes meet his and I let out a strangled sob. Flynn pulls me to my feet and examines me closely for injuries.
“I killed them, Flynn” I finally manage to say; “Innocent people, and I killed them. All this time I’ve spent trying to escape Murderers; maybe I belong there after all.”
“Listen to me, Brie,” Flynn brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, “you didn’t have a choice. They would have killed us if you hadn’t.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” I sob.
Flynn stares deeply into my eyes, “No, it’s not okay. But it’s going to be.” He says softly. I try to protest, but Flynn leans in and gently kisses me. He pulls away and gazes down at me, “I love you Brie. And I promise you that everything is going to turn out all right.” And despite everything that has happened, for one moment, I allow myself the hope that maybe he is right.
###
All the Extras!
Hello my readers, ‘tis I, Lena August! First of all, thank you, thank you, thank you, for reading this book. Perhaps if you liked it you could recommend it to your friends? Secondly, please stay tuned for information about the next book in the trilogy. I don’t have a release date yet, but, rest assured, I am working on it (when I’m not busy with college life, mindlessly staring at the TV, or reading that is). For more information about it, and maybe, just maybe, some excerpts from it be sure to check out my website.
Also, for this book, I was the author, editor, cover designer, emotional therapist for those hard to get through paragraphs, and pretty much everything else you can think of. Translation: I was pretty much the only person to read this book before it was published. Because of this, there may be a couple stubborn little typos that just refused to be noticed during any one of the multiple times that I read and reread the manuscript. If you see a typo, I would be majestically grateful if you could let me know via email.
Email: [email protected]
Website: https://lenaaugustbooks.wix.com/lenaaugustbooks
Thank you! Merci! Gracias! Danke! Asante! Kiitos!
(Online translators are a wonderful thing!)
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