M I N A
Sol's golden hair dances in the air as she veers her knife in my direction, a glint of challenge in her eyes. Reacting swiftly, I dip my head underneath the cold blade, feeling the rush of air above me. Seizing the opportunity, I land a well-aimed kick to her side, and she lets out a loud sigh as she rolls to the side on the soft mattress.
Sol and I have known each other a bittersweet while—more than two years now, ever since her arrival at The East. In that time, she's woven herself into the fabric of my life, becoming closer to me than anyone else.
"Elias is a damn bastard," Sol declares, hooking her knife to her belt with a practised motion. She swipes a bead of sweat off her forehead, her breath steady despite the physical exertion. "If you're going to beat him, you'll need kicks a hundred times stronger than that."
I shake my head, taking a few steps back and pacing around the fighting room. "There's not a chance in hell I'll win a fist-to-fist. A clean gunshot is what it's going to take."
Sol unbuckles her boot, the sound echoing in the room, and sighs out in relief as she shrugs them off. "I'd damn well hope not, Mina," she says, her voice quieter now. "I mean, if it comes to that."
I pause, looking at Sol with a mixture of determination and frustration. "If it comes to that, I'm done for, and there's no point, Sol. Elias has been tossing around death like it's spare change since he practically crawled out of the cradle."
The room seems to tighten with tension as Sol and I exchange glances, the weight of the impending confrontation settling heavily on our shoulders.
Suddenly, Sol's lips twitch in a wry smile, as she leaps onto her feet.
Across the room, articles sprawled out all over the table, where we searched relentlessly for any weaknesses other than this hot temper. The articles were all found through a private database, which I spent hours unlocking for something so useless.
Sol, a smirk playing on her lips, interjects with a tone thick with both amusement and mock sincerity, "You know, he's quite the catch for a notorious killer. Perhaps you two wouldn't make such a terrible pair."
I can't help but snort at the unexpected twist in the narrative. "Women might fawn over him if he didn't have a need for murdering anyone who so much as glanced at him the wrong way." My smile slightly drops. "We need to burn these at some point—the way I got this information is punishable."
"And we will, right after we figure out a foolproof way to bring down Elias."
Suddenly, an image of Elias catches in the corner of my eye in the article, he's handsome—there's no denying that. A sharp, cutting jaw, and dark, brown eyes that mimic the shadow of sparkling blackness in his heart. Framing his face, his blonde hair looms, seemingly making his features just a tad softer.
I shove the article to the side as we walk through the glass doors and outside the building. Moonlight bathes the remnants of snow silvery, stealing away the colour from the green grass. Dewiness clings to it, creating a subtle luminescence.
We walk through the small descent of wood before we reach the large opening of the garden.
Seizing the moment, I surprise Sol, swiftly pivoting to land a carefully aimed elbow in her stomach, momentarily disrupting her with a sudden burst of action.
Sol cocks her head in challenge, momentarily in shock forward at the impact, before a loud, sharp crack sounds. Almost whip-like, that it startles Sol midway through a strike to my ribs with her elbows.
Both of us pause, whirling around to where the noise emanated from, the wind whispering through the trees like a ghostly confidant.
A man, smiling wickedly, saunters toward us through the dim trees, his gaze filled with ominous amusement as he takes slow deliberate steps, avoiding the moonlight from fully revealing the intricacies of his face.
"Once you're in, you'll never be able to get out," he warns, each word laden with the weight of impending danger. He advances, the moonlight casting an eerie pallor on his face. "Elias is knee-deep in trouble, and you're about to drown in it if you decide to marry him."
What does he mean in trouble?
I briefly shoot a wary glance at Sol, golden hair pale in the moonlight, expecting to find a mirror of my own unease. However, she remains transfixed by the man who has passed our security measures.
Sol's challenging reaction startles me as she whirls out her gun, the metallic gleam of the barrel of it pointed right to his head. Still as death, like the ending awaiting him, she holds it with lethal poise.
"And who are you?" she snappily asks, her lips twisting in disdain as her eyes, framed with thick lashes, drag up and down his shadowed figure.
As the tension thickens, he steps forth and the tattoo across his neck comes to light—the mere indicator of his belonging.
The North.
"I've come to deliver a warning. Steer clear of Elias's path," he declares, and I swear his voice echoes through the depths of the moon-lit night.
Sol huffs a scornful laugh, cutting through his theatrical words, charging the atmosphere with an unrelenting tension. "You wretched fool, daring to go against Elias. I demand an answer, who in the hell are you?" she snarls with a venomous colour to her words.
"Since you asked so kindly..." he drawls, taking another step, defying the warning glare in Sol's deep blue eyes that I swear flickered in danger.
Suddenly, another lurks through the trees with what could be a million knives strapped to his belt.
"We've arrived to end Elias's alliance, to sever ties we deem unnecessary," he ominously says, his words draped in an eerie calmness that sends a shiver down my spine.
The utterance, veiled in a shroud of darkness, sets my ears ablaze with a surge of fear.
In response, Sol promptly springs into action, forcefully propelling me towards the refuge of the looming woods. I nearly trip over my own feet, as I burst toward the way we came from through the depths of the forest.
I sprint, and the scent of earth and flowers mixes with the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Abruptly, the moonlight catches the gleam of metal of the gun, and instinct takes over.
I lunge desperately to the side, narrowly dodging two bullets that tear through the air. The acrid tang of fear fills my mouth as I sprint across the wet garden, the gunfire surely alerting the entire building by now.
The ladders leading to the rooftop beckon from the shadows, sending a glint in the corner of my eye.
Rasping loudly, I reach them, my palms already slick with a cold sweat. The metallic burn of the ladders sears through my knuckles, and my palms feel as if blisters are currently forming.
I watch my knuckles turn a ghostly white at the pressure brimming in my body.
Suddenly, a twig snaps soundly.
I pause, three-quarters across the ladders, holding my racing breath. Then a gunshot fires and sends ravens from the trees up into the cold air, squawking and screaming.
Immediately, I haul myself over the rooftop, landing face-flat on the rooftop flooring, panting against the thin layer of snow on the ground.
"I figured you'd make your way up here. It's funny how some folks think climbing higher means escaping, when often, it just means finding a new kind of trap," the voice drips in condescension, as he stands above me, twirling a thin knife between his two fingers.
There's three, three of them.
I can barely see his face as it's cloaked in the ominous dark as my face slowly lifts from the snow. My cheek feels numb, tinged with a slight red. But that tattoo is clear as ever, and something I need to get away from.
Fiery instinct kicks in, and I swiftly roll over the ground, catching remnants of snow on my jacket, distancing myself from their immediate reach. Rising to my feet, I find myself completely unarmed without any weapon but fists against a sharp-edged knife.
I tighten them beside me, nails pinching in my palms.
"You'd struggle to win even against a knife, and those ladders are your only escape. Though, I must admit, jumping might be more easier than scratches and fists. A cracked head, however, is not a look suited for a pretty girl like you," he remarks, edging near the rooftop and eyeing the fall below.
Then he turns back to me, a wide grin upon his face, the moonlight making the lines of his teeth eerily glow. "But I guess it'll have to do."
The other must have seen me crawling up, that's why he hadn't shot me because he knew about this trap. I should have gone back down—
I bare my teeth in a snarl, but still take a step back. "You bastard, have you even considered what punishment Elias might give you for this?"
"Don't you think we've considered that?" Eerily, he looks again at the height of the fall. "They'll think you've committed suicide."
Suddenly, he charges toward me, a glint of malice in his eyes as he brandishes the knife.
Swiftly, I evade his lunging attack, causing him to teeter dangerously on the edge of imbalance. "You bitch," he snarls, quickly recovering and giving chase once again.
I switch corners, the desperation in my breath mirroring the intensity of the knife about to piece through my skin. The safety of the ladders are still out of reach, and he makes sure of that, keeping me on the other side of the corners of the roof.
It's not long until he corners me, his knife poised with stabbing intent. With a practised swiftness, the blade is unleashed, a silver streak through the air.
I move, but not fast enough.
The knife finds its mark on my skin, a searing pain lancing through my thigh. The world momentarily tilts and I let out a gut-wrenching scream.
It's hot, searching and lashing pain, as if I've been struck in the thigh by a whip for the hundredth time.
My legs buckle beneath me, and I collapse, my body meeting the thin layer of snow on the rooftop.
Convulsions wrack my form, shaking me on the cold surface as I feel bile rising in my throat. "What have you done?" I rasp out loud, the words barely audible through the rawness of my voice. "What have you done to the knife?"
As blackness encroaches on the edges of my vision, I strain to see, but there's no one there. It's as if he's vanished into the soft breeze of winter, leaving me alone with the cold embrace of unconsciousness.