City of the Damned (on hold)

Chapter 9 | And the Prey

HER heart pounded against her rib cage, the noise filling her body and drowning out any other sound. Verena stood in the middle of her old bedroom, watching the door like a deer caught in the headlights — which she perhaps was.

The footsteps came nearer and stopped on the other side of the door. Sweat broke out on her skin, and she wiped her hands on her trousers.

Confidence was key, she was told long ago, so that was her strategy. She belonged here. She did nothing wrong — but what if it's not Euronea but someone who wanted her death? Damn it. She should've thought things more through. What did Ruth say? 'You kept walking into danger as if you hoped you wouldn't walk out again'. Verena didn't intend to ... did she? Sure, she knew she might not get old. Not with the way the city worked, and not if she wanted to save people in battle, but that didn't mean she wished to die.

Her gaze darted around, looking for a weapon, but she was too late. Her hands formed fists beside her as the door opened. Sky-blue eyes were the first thing she saw, and Verena wasn't sure if they were comforting; not after the stern talk she had with the person they belonged to.

Atlas was unhappy with how things were going in the city. Shame on him for expecting to be the change. Yes, he made some excellent points about how she was supposed to step up and such. However, breaking curfew probably wasn't what he meant. It was a bad look, and she knew it.

To be honest, she was a bit afraid to take on more responsibility and embrace the sort of leadership role. What if she screwed up? Did this count as a screw-up? She didn't think so.

"Verena," Atlas said coldly, his eyes the same as in the garden; there was no sparkle in them, no stupid determination to become a hero.

His glance was probably supposed to appear blank, like his face, where the memory of the dimples as he smiled seemed distant. Yet, emotions reflected in them, even if it was a little. Was it anger? Frustration? A powerlessness? Or perhaps she projected her own feelings upon him.

"Atlas." She was unsure what else there was to say.

He laughed, but not the warm and kind one. It was more like a scoff. "You broke curfew."

"Technically, I'm inside my house." Her father still owned the building, and with his death, it was now hers. It was a desperate attempt. They both knew it.

His lips formed a thin line, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You were within the Keep when night had fallen, and we have visual documentation of you outside."

Her face ashened. "The cameras aren't working." Berulex lacked the capacity to watch them or save footage. It required power, and it wasn't like cameras made the city so much safer.

"They are now."

Atlas and Verena stared at each other as if they were holding a contest, but she didn't know what to respond. She was still processing the situation at hand.

"My men are outside. We shouldn't let them wait."

A cold dread tickled at the raised hairs on her neck. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes falling on the battle axe attached to his belt. "Everywhere you go, you bring an entourage of armed people."

"Everywhere you go, you disregard the danger and venture alone as if it's a pleasant walk through a park."

The mask she wore broke under the pressure of exhaustion, stress, grief, and more, and she laughed. She wasn't sure if it took Atlas off guard or if it pissed him off more. One thing was certain: she detested this cold side of Atlas.

"This may be another job and one more paycheck for you, but don't forget, this is my home. The city I grew up in." They had a different definition of danger. Not knowing about his upbringing, she still doubted his childhood was similar to hers. Yet, his words lingered in her mind, settling next to Ruth's accusation.