Skirting each other in a delicate dance, Faine and Trace never broke their stares as they made a circle.
Each movement was slow and calculated.
Using everything in her arsenal, Faine took inventory of the man in front of her. From the way his left leg dragged slightly as he edged around her to the paling white skin, she had to wonder if he'd been malnourished before reaching the mountain.
Or if he'd already sustained some type of injury along the way.
She could feel the weight of his pinned stare sweeping over her as well, but from everything Faine had read, she knew he was only human. Perhaps enhanced by strange experiments, she wouldn't know. But the paper she found in the compound was convincing enough.
"Did you ever wonder why I hunted you in particular?" he mused. "I know I would've."
Faine scoffed. "I'm sure you would, but no. I'm certain my gifts alone were enough to lure you in."
Trace raised a brow at her, shrugging. "Suit yourself," he said, ignoring her. "You, my dear, are what we like to call a tortured soul. You balance yourself on the line between right and wrong, never committing, never choosing a side."
Snorting, Faine rolled her eyes. His words sounded like utter nonsense.
"My hypothesis was simple really. I assumed you'd be an easy break and an even easier ally," he droned on, waving his free hand to the side. "Clearly, I was wrong."
"I'm also fairly certain you just like to hear yourself talk," Faine snapped back, eyes fixed on the syringe. All she had to do was shatter the glass casing and he would be fair game. "Care to tell me about something more interesting?"
"Oh? Like what?"
"Like what you did to my partner or how long you've been working with Naisene."
Trace laughed, careful not to miss a step when Faine threw in a fake lunge.
"Stupid girl, I created Naisene over a decade ago, using them as my private task force to gain control of the city so I might one day overthrow the High Court," he explained, exasperation seeping into his voice. "Surely that's not hard for even a dimwit like you to understand."
The growl rumbling in her throat was nothing short of predatory. Faine's very body convulsed with the urge to destroy him where he stood.
She only needed to know one more thing.
Just one more and then she could have every ounce of closure owed to her.
"And my partner?" she ground out, careful not to sound too eager. "What did you do to Leighton Karras?"
He sighed, almost sounding bored. "Vengeance doesn't suit you, dearie."
Faine snarled, lunging again. She closed the gap between them by a good three feet. The controlled comfort on Trace's face began to wash away.
He didn't notice she was backing him into a corner.
"You're boy-toy wasn't a whole lot of fun to play with," he answered at last, huffing another dramatic sigh. "Sergeant Karras barely spoke and you could barely get a reaction out of the man until certain measures were taken..."
Trace smirked when Faine's eyes flashed with hatred and frustration.
This conversation, much like their circling, was a dance for power. A heated one at that.
"What?" she growled. "Until what?"
"Well, it seemed like the only thing that would get him to talk was you. He couldn't stop threatening me the day I decided to show him what was happening to your mind, your body," he said, a catlike smirk growing on his face. "Let alone when I left him with that projector, forcing him to watch every experiment I performed on you... Man, was he vicious then."
Faine felt her heart drop into her stomach, fighting to keep the air in her lungs.
"Such a shame he's no longer with us," Trace added, tossing a glance to the doors behind her.
The tether she'd been clinging to desperately snapped when those words came out of his mouth. Faine had him backed up far enough and her mind was set. In one swift movement, she launched forward, pinning him into the wall with a force great enough that the impact cracked several stones.
If Leighton was gone, then Faine would make every second of Trace's death the most painful he'd ever lived.
He made a move with the syringe and Faine bucked away, gripping his wrist tightly. Trace struggled against her grasp, attempting to kick her legs out from under her as he'd seen his victim do moments ago.
His efforts were significantly weaker without paranormal strength.
Faine aimed to knee his groin, but his legs locked around hers. Trace threw them down on the floor, dragging himself up over her. He spaced his wait to hold her down, one hand on her throat and both legs digging into her thighs.
He was strong for a human, smirking as he aimed the needle for her neck.
Hooking her elbow inside his arm, Faine threw all of her strength into a blow that sent them rolling on the floor. Trace grimaced with each impact, fighting to stay on top. His grip on the syringe was locked in a death grip, holding onto it like a lifeline.
The stone beneath them felt like cold, lumpy cement with deep grooves. Faine's entire body cried out in pain as the dirt ground into her scars. Through gritted teeth, she was able to breathe through those agonizing reminders.
She had to break the syringe.
Taking a deep breath, Faine pushed off the ground again, disappearing into the shadows as Trace punched his arm out toward her. She slipped between the fabric of space and manifested behind him, using much of her strength to kick him in the soft spot under his ribs.
He crumpled to the floor on his hands and knees, coughing. Still clutching the needle, Trace weakly tried to turn around and defend himself.
"What are you going to do now, Ms. Reilica?" he rasped, his breathing hitched. "What happens if you succeed here today?"
Faine snarled at him, feeling herself dissolve into the madness. "I don't know," she hissed. "What I do know is no one will ever have to hear your name and feel the utter terror of not knowing whether or not you still walk this plane."
Trace gave a sputtered laugh, a few drops of blood leaking out onto the ground. "The worst is still yet to come."
She didn't know when she started kicking him. Black and red filled her vision as she ran her foot into his stomach over and over again, watching him groan and laugh on the floor. Insane. He was insane.
Trace walked the very same line he claimed of her.
Faine felt the bile in her throat rising as she felt his breathing shutter.
No one else.
No one else.
No. One. Else.
Before long, Faine was screaming it at the top of her lungs, completely unaware of the doors busting open behind her or the weight of footsteps filing in.
"No one else! No one else!"
She stomped on the syringe and broke the glass, spilling chemicals all over the stones.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as Faine kicked out weakly, stopping to watch as Trace's labored breathing slowed even more.
Despite everything, she didn't want to become him.
She didn't want to become a monster.
Her knees threatened to buckle as footsteps approached her slowly. Faine felt gentle arms looping under her shoulders as they gave out, sobbing brokenly.
Shaking her head, she tried to fight her way out of her captor's hold until a familiar voice washed over her, hushing her. "It's over," he whispered. "It's over now, birdie."
Faine lost it, her tears soaking her face as she cried. "I can't... I couldn't... I couldn't do it..."
He nodded, wrapping an arm under her knees and lifting her off the ground.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, still sobbing. "I'm so sorry..."
He hushed her again. "It's okay, it's over now..."
Voices filled the room, people she didn't recognize in uniforms Faine could barely place. Through blurry eyes, she could only make out men and women in bronze militia gear. Her confusion must've shown because her partner smiled slightly.
"The High Court," he answered her silent question. Leighton hoisted her up into his arms, tucking Faine in tighter to his chest.
"Not Naisene...?" she croaked.
He sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "We're in this together," Leighton said softly, glaring down at the man on the floor. Pure hatred and disgust shone in those amber eyes. "I did some more digging in the compound and found the rest of the files you'd seen. I knew where to find you after that, but I needed to make a stop first."
"To the capitol..." she said.
He nodded again. "With the paperwork I had, it was still challenging to convince them but Trace was a fugitive...
As he explained, two High Court Guards walked over to the crippled scientist and grabbed him by either arm. When he was safely secured in a wired jacket, they escorted him out of the room.
"What's going to happen to him?" she asked.
Leighton thought about it for a minute, glancing around the room.
A war of calm and nausea raged within her, battling for a foothold in her stomach. She felt the unease dwindling as she looked around to see soldiers she didn't know going through Trace's things and dismantling the building.
It was over.
"I'm not sure," he replied, turning with Faine still in his arms. "For now, I'm taking you to the hospital."
She opened her mouth to protest but his answering glare stopped her short.
"What about me...?"
"What about you?" he asked, brows furrowing.
Faine's skin crawled, a tremor running through her at the thought of being imprisoned again. "I don't... I almost killed him, but..."
As if understanding, Leighton began walking downstairs. "Don't you worry about that, bird."
Tears filled her eyes when she looked at him, questioning.
"No one is ever going to cage you again."
Word Count : 21,355