𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | ⸊ˎ • 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑦𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠 𝑥 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.

          "I knew I should've minded my own business. I should've never gotten involved in Jane's shit," I scowled aloud, my temper amplified by the nauseating pain I was in, "the fuck she bothered to take in someone the Syndicate had their hands all over is beyond me! Should've been my call to stay the hell away and find someone else to barter with..."

          Regardless of my angered thoughts, I continued to slowly pull myself across the forest floor in a vain attempt to make it back to Jane's place.

•••

          I was near hitting the near hour mark when I realized that my scents were throwing me off the whole time and I instead was lugging myself further away from Jane's location than towards it. By that point, I was very weak and on the verge of passing out soon. I wouldn't be surprised if a Syndicate member came around and found me, thanks to the large trail of blood I must've of left behind and the sharp scent of my own exposed flesh.

          In a daze, I allow my body to give in on itself and I collapse to the ground, my labored breathing slowing as I felt myself shutting down. "Can't believe ...this is it..." I wheezed out, "all because of some...kid...I..."

          I trailed off, flinching as I hear the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under the pressure of heavy footsteps. The sounds told me that the steps were headed in my direction. It was an instant assumption that The Syndicate had finally caught up to me—such a shame for such an elusive creature like me to be caught in the most pitiable position imaginable.

Regardless how they found me, I'd prefer it if I were dead. The last thing I was ever going to do was let myself be taken by them. I shakily brought my hand up to my chest, my sharpened nails already beginning to pierce through the cloth of my hoodie. This was most definitely going to hurt like a bitch but it would be my quickest, most practical way out besides bleeding to death. I never saw myself dying by ripping out my own heart but it's much more respectable than dying by that faceless demon's cult of morons.

"I hate that stupid ass kid with my entire being," I hissed, forcing myself to dig my nails deep into my skin. Considering what I had were just about claws, it would be a job quickly done. The image of [Y/N] and their small form shuttering against me as I'd held them in my arms wouldn't leave my head, and it was making me angrier accompanied with the pain. This was all their fault—if only they'd just...no...if only I'd just stayed away—

"Holy shit—the fuck is that?!"

"Don't say it like that Jeff, what if it could hear you?"

"Well godamn if no one else is gonna say it, it ought to be me—that thing is ugly as fuck!"

The footsteps were right up on me now. I paused my deed for a moment just to intake their presence . They didn't smell very much like Syndicate members, and they didn't have the scent of a Separatist either. Probably some lone outsiders or Evaders. Still, I didn't feel dandy letting 'em have their way with me. That and the loud bitch that smelled like blood and cheap crack directly called me ugly, so I'm not dealing with these motherfuckers.