M I N A
The heavy metal doors of the sewer slam shut with a thunderous clang, the sound echoing down the damp tunnels.
The putrid stench of sewage assaults my senses, clawing at my throat and making each breath a struggle as we seal ourselves in.
As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I finally spot Sol, her burned by the faint glow of a nearby flickering bulb. She stands with a man whose hair gleams like moonlight, slinging onto her shoulder—her face is etched in struggle as the broken sound of his voice hangs in the silent atmosphere.
The air is heavy with the metallic tang of blood, overpowering even the foul odour of the sewers.
Sol's gaze meets mine, and I can see the tremble in her breath. Elias moves to support Castiel's broken figure with a nod in his head.
Then I see the knife wedged in Castiel's skin, and my eyes move back to Sol's in question.
Without hesitation, Sol collapses into my arms, her warmth comforting in the underground labyrinth. I inhale deeply, drinking in her scent, a mixture of sweat and dirt tinged with the faintest hint of desperation.
Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her close, feeling the rapid thud of her heart against my chest.
"I've missed you," I whisper, my voice barely audible above the occasional drip of water echoing through the tunnels. "So much."
As she turns away from me, I catch sight of the network of scars across her back like a map of suffering etched into her skin and I feel sickness roil in my stomach.
A lump forms in my throat, choking back the words that threaten to spill out.
"Elias told me—but I didn't think it would look—I mean—" I stumble over my words, unable to articulate the flood of emotions crashing against the walls of my resolve.
Sol's voice, though strained, interrupts my speech. "I know," she murmurs softly, her gaze steady. "It's okay—I'm okay. I just want to go back home."
I nod even though tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at the guilt washing over me like a wave. We had failed her, allowed her to suffer, and now the scars bore witness to our shortcomings.
Sol looks at me, the bulb next to us lighting up her blue eyes like a star in the night sky.
"You came here at the right time," Sol whispers. With a pained expression, she raises her wrists, revealing the myriad of wounds scattered across her skin, and I nearly choke again.
"I'm glad that you're alive," I reply, my voice trembling with emotion.
She reaches up to brush her own hair back with a large breath, her fingers tracing the contours of her scars with a delicate touch as she turns back to Castiel.
Turning my attention to Castiel, urgency grips at me like a vice. I know we can't afford to stay here any longer. Sol has already done what she could with the meagre supplies at hand, but it's clear that Castiel needs urgent medical attention.
"I'm afraid we'll need to cut off our reunion. Otherwise Castiel will die," Elias says, studying the pale pallor of his face.
Castiel's life is hanging on the thinnest of threads.
"The reunion can wait," Sol declares, looking at me, her features weary and tired.
I nod in silent agreement, steeling myself for the task ahead.
But as I take a step forward, a sharp clatter echoes through the tunnel as a stone tumbles from the crumbling ceiling, landing with a hollow thud behind my foot.
My heart skips a beat as I glance upward.
A single drop of water slips through the cracks in the ceiling. Elias hesitates beside me, his eyes darting nervously around.
Then, without warning, another stone dislodges from its perch, crashing to the ground with a deafening clamour.
"The explosion," Elias gasps, his voice barely above a whisper as realisation dawns upon him. "Fuck!"
A knot of dread forms inside my stomach.
I lurch forward to avoid another small rock falling from the ceiling, my senses on high alert, every instinct screaming at me to flee.
"But Malia isn't alive," I protest, my voice trembling with disbelief as I turn to face the others. Castiel's face drains of colour, his features contorted in a mask of dread.
"She must have rigged it to explode regardless," Elias says.
"No, she couldn't have—someone needs to light it for it to explode," Sol answers, her voice filled with desperation.
Castiel's urgency is palpable. "Go!" he urges, his voice hoarse, snapping us all into action.
As we hasten through the narrow passageways of the sewer, a sickening sensation washes over me as the thick sludge coats the hem of my dress, clinging to the fabric like a suffocating shroud.
Each step is a struggle, the muck weighing me down, dragging at my feet as we push forward.
Outside the confines of the sewer door, the air is thick with the voices.
With a sudden jolt, we turn a sharp corner, and the door behind us swings wide open, revealing a sliver of light that pierces through the darkness of the tunnel.
I flinch at the abrupt noise, the loud clang of metal echoing through the cramped space.
"They must have gone in here, there is a direct line out of the sewers," a voice echoes from down the tunnel.
As footsteps sound, we all pause from the corner.
Elias meets my gaze, and he signs for me with his fingers to take the other side of Castiel's shoulders.
With a nod, I take hold of Castiel's shoulder, the weight of his muscles nearly causing me to grunt in exertion.
With a grim look, Elias brings up his gun, the metal gleaming dully in the dim light of the sewer. His movements are precise, calculated when he raises it into the air.
As we press forward, the sound of frantic footsteps echoes down the sewers, but my heart sinks as I realise Elias isn't running alongside us.
Panic surges through me, threatening to overwhelm my senses, but I shake my head in denial when I pause, facing him.
I know what he's going to say—
"I will hold them off," Elias whispers, his tone brooking no argument.
"No—" I begin to protest, my voice catching in my throat.
But before I can utter another word, he cuts me off, "I said, go!" he shouts, his voice echoing through the tunnels with a commanding force—the same one he uses in The North. "Take Castiel into safety."
With a heavy heart, I realise there's no time to argue.
We break into a run, the sound of Elias's voice fading into the distance behind us. Gunshots ring out in the darkness, each fiery burst sending a jolt of fear coursing through my veins.
As we round yet another corner in the sewers, the putrid stench threatens to overwhelm me, bile rising in my throat at the noxious odour.
But before I can fully register our surroundings, more guards appear, their figures looming in the dim light.
Sol acts on instinct, swift and decisive, drawing her gun and unleashing a volley of shots.
The echoes sound through the tunnel as the guards fall, two bodies crumpling to the ground in the wake of her deadly accuracy.
The end of the sewer looms close, just within reach.
Fingers wrench open the other gate to the sewers, and as we emerge into the open air, relief floods through me like a tidal wave. But our moment of respite is short-lived as we're met with the sight of Noah, his eyes wide with urgency as he takes in our group.
"They know about the sewers. Where the fuck is Elias!" he demands, rubbing the back of his head.
"He's coming," Sol answers, clutching her thighs, trying to regain her breath.
Noah then acknowledges Castiel. "Holy fuck, what happened?" he asks, his breathing shallow and ragged. "Get him to the helicopter," he orders a couple men.
"Mina, we need to hurry, this place will implode in any moment," Sol says, reaching for my shoulder.
I ignore, waiting for a silhouette of Elias's figure to appear—
"Damn him!" Noah seethes, raking a hand through his hair. "Where is he?"
It's been too long.
I turn to face Noah, my mind made up in an instant.
Without a moment's hesitation, I race back into the depths of the sewers, feeling hands that swipe at my back in an attempt to stop me. Voices shout behind me, but they become muted in the back of my mind.
"Elias," I breathe, the word a prayer on my lips as I plunge deeper into the darkness of the tunnels. The hollowness of the sewers presses down on me as I turn each corner.
Each turn, I raise my gun in the air like a knife slicing through the air, but I don't see him. Anywhere.
Then, amidst the shadows, I spot him—Elias—being hauled away by three guards, their grip tight around his arms as they drag him further from my reach.
With a grim look on my face, I immediately raise my gun, and take aim.
The gunshot shatters the silence, the sound echoing off the walls of the sewers with a deafening roar. One of the guards crumples to the ground, a crimson blossom blooming on his forehead where my bullet finds its mark.
As the others turn to face me, my gaze zeroes in on Elias, his form slumped on the ground, seemingly unconscious, while Atticus looms over him, his fingers cruelly entwined in Elias's hair, holding him up.
A surge of anger courses through me at the sight of it.
The guard lifts his gun at me.
"Don't fire," Atticus drawls, his smug demeanour sending a wave of fury crashing over me. "I've been patiently waiting for your return."
Gritting my teeth against the tide of rage threatening to consume me, I take a step forward, my gaze locked on Atticus with unwavering intensity. "You will release your hold on his hair," I demand, aiming the barrel right on him.
Atticus's mocking laughter rings through the air, sending a chill down my spine as I stand firm. "Why should I listen to you?" he taunts, his gaze flickering between me and Elias, who lies unconscious on the ground at his feet.
"Release him," I snap, my voice laced with a simmering fury that threatens to boil over at any moment.
To my surprise, Atticus complies, releasing his grip on Elias's hair with a cruel smirk. Elias crumples forward on his knees, a steady groan leaving his lips.
"Now that I've released him, we'll talk business," Atticus says, his tone dripping with malice as he seeks to regain control of the situation.
He'll want Sol, and he won't have her.
But before he can continue, I cut him off, my voice sharp and uncompromising. "You won't lay a finger on Sol, you twisted bastard. I've seen what you're capable of."
Atticus's eyes narrow, his expression darkening with menace as he brandishes a knife, its blade glinting malevolently in the dim light of the sewer. He points it at Elias, who remains half unconscious on the ground, a silent threat hanging in the air.
"I'll grant you a second chance to listen," Atticus sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. "But no retries, or I'll slit his throat."
My throat feels dry as I struggle to form a response.
"I'll offer a straightforward exchange," Atticus begins, his voice dripping with malice as he outlines his terms. "Return what's rightfully mine, and you can keep him, and he's all yours."
Elias draws out a pained murmur, as if refusing against it.
Atticus drops his head to observe him, and a white smile sends a shiver down my spine. I glance down at Elias—they must have hit him hard on the head for him to barely be conscious.
"Tick tock, Mina," he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt.
But I refuse to be cowed by his threats.
"You will listen to me," I boom, my lower lip trembling. "This place is about to explode. You'll die with it. Surrender Elias, and we'll spare your wretched life."
The guard shifts on his other foot, and spares a glance at Atticus.
"She's bluffing," Atticus says as he crouches down and lifts Elias's head, the blade of the knife now pressed dangerously at his throat.
Elias's half-closed eyes betray his state—and I take a desperate forward.
"I'm not—" I begin to protest, but my words are cut short as the ground beneath us rumbles once more. I stagger to the side, struggling to maintain my balance as the world seems to tilt on its axis.
Atticus shifts uneasily on his feet, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
Seizing the opportunity presented by Atticus's moment of hesitation, Elias springs into action, his movements swift and decisive. With a deft swipe, he knocks Atticus's feet out from under him, sending the knife clattering to the ground.
I immediately fire at the guard, and it hits him right in the chest.
Elias wastes no time, lunging forward to retrieve the fallen knife, but Atticus is quick to react. With a swift motion, he slashes Elias's cheek, a thin line of blood blossoming in its wake.
As Elias stumbles backward, clutching the gash on his face, I step forward without hesitation, my fists clenched.
With a swift punch, I land a blow on Atticus, sending him crashing to the ground once more.
But before I can revel in my small victory, another rumble shakes the ground beneath us, and I lose my footing on the slick surface of the sewers.
As Atticus's hand tightens around my ankle, dragging me closer to him, I feel a surge of desperation coursing through me.
Immediately, Elias leaps forward, his face contorted in a mask of rage as he moves to strike at Atticus.
I raise the gun, right at Atticus's forehead, but at the same time, the glint of cold steel against my throat freezes me in place, and in Elias's too.
"You kill me, and you're dead, too," Atticus says quietly, eerily looking at me. "And if we stay like this, we're all dead."
I grind my teeth together, glaring at him.
Atticus turns to face Elias. "Get me out of here and I remove this knife off her neck," Atticus demands, his voice dripping with malice as he tightens his grip on the knife, pressing it against my throat further. "But you must take an oath, as promises seem beneath you, that you won't kill me."
A rivulet of blood drips from my neck.
Elias's jaw clenches with fury at the demand, his muscles tense with the effort of restraining himself when he sees the blood.
After a moment of consideration, he grits his teeth. "Fine," he seethes.
The knife disappears from my neck in an instant, and I drop my gun to the side.
As Elias helps me regain my footing, his hands cupping my cheeks, I'm struck by the mix of emotions etched in the lines of his face. Frustration battles with tenderness, his eyes softening as he gazes into mine.
"I must admit I'm seething with frustration over the mess you got in yourself because of me," he murmurs. "Yet, I find myself hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, Mina."
His words wash over me like a soothing balm, and before I can respond, his lips meet mine in a tender kiss. I feel a sense of peace wash over me in his embrace.
"I love you," I whisper as our lips part, my voice barely above a breath as I search his eyes. "I love you so much," I repeat once more.
Elias's face is nothing like I've seen before as he takes in my words, but before he can speak, bricks rain down upon us, the tunnel collapsing around us in a deafening roar of destruction.
Elias tears his eyes away from mine, and instantly grabs my hand as we scramble to climb over the debris.
"Any gestures of courtesy for me?" Atticus taunts, stepping over the debris with efficiency.
I spare him a side-long glance, my gaze filled with hatred. "The only courtesy you deserve is being left in The West," I snap, silencing him.
"Well, unfortunately I would stay here if you hadn't decided to explode it," Atticus snarls.
"Well, in case you missed the memo, Malia took it upon herself to turn this place into nothing but a pile of rubble," I snap. "Of course, she's met her death since then, but now it seems someone else has graciously volunteered to continue her work."
I sigh in relief when he goes quiet.
As we finally reach the end of the tunnel, the harsh glare of lights blinds us momentarily, causing us to squint against the sudden brightness.
The rush of fresh air hits us like a welcome relief.
Noah's sharp voice cuts through the air like a knife. "What is he doing here?" Noah snaps as he glares at Atticus beside us.
"He's coming with us," Elias says dryly.
"No, he's not," Noah retorts.
Sol's face falls at the sight of Atticus, her face turning sickly to the man who has wrought so much pain to her.
Atticus meets Sol's gaze with a chilling smile, the darkness in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. But before he can utter another word, Noah intervenes, his voice sharp with authority.
"Head down, you fucking bastard," Noah snaps, his words a command that brooks no argument.
Atticus's smile darkens at Noah's harsh tone, but he complies, lowering his gaze with a cold, calculating stare.
Noah turns his attention to Elias, his disappointment evident in his expression as he addresses him directly. "You idiot," he mutters. "What did he have against you?"
"It was an oath," Elias says.