Clara
I feel my insides turn to liquid.
His lips are impossibly soft. Like they were never meant to belong to someone like him. For a heartbeat, I forget how to stand. The gentleness of his kiss seeps through my cheek and straight into my bones. It feels like he's unmaking me, piece by piece, with nothing more than that single, fragile touch. The apology speech I had prepared slips from my mind as if he's stolen it from me.
...of course he'd choose now—while we're surrounded by danger—to do this.
To be sweet. Irresistible. To do that like I'm something precious when my whole body has been screaming for more since...I don't even know when. And really, his eyesight can't be that poor, can it? That he doesn't even know where my lips are.
"Should I ask the staff nicely to give you guys some space?"
I forcefully tear myself away from Alister at Zach's voice, heat flooding my face as my eyes fall on the smirking man walking towards us. His blood-stained clothes and red, calloused hands tells me he's taken a few lives himself. Alister's expression instantly turns sour and he clicks his tongue.
I wonder if he left Zach behind on purpose.
"Wait...Where's everyone else?" I look behind him but see no one. All color drains from my face as I realize something's wrong. "What happened to them?"
"They're fine. They're probably back up at the retreat by now." Alister replies, crossing his arms. The bloodied sleeves of his shirt can only mean he used his ability too much.
"Listen, I already have the Hirudin dagger." I say, pulling my mind back into focus. "Everley called her organization for backup. She won't be far behind. We need to hurry!"
Then Zach's gaze drops to my hands. His brows knit together, concern overtaking his features. "What happened to your nails?"
I can feel Alister's gaze burning into my hand. His face hardened into something darker. Something dangerous. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and I can practically feel the anger radiating off him.
"Forget about this right now. I made them do it." I blurt, and I flex my fingers instinctively, trying not to wince at the sting. "We need to make one last stop before—"
"Zach, take her to the exit. I'll join you in a minute." Alister orders suddenly with a tone that leaves no room for argument. The unmistakable silver glow creeps up his fingernails and eyes. Instead of heading toward the exit, he turns sharply and starts walking back towards where I came from.
Dammit!
"Are you seriously going back to kill her!?" I stubbornly follow behind him, ignoring his words. Zach follows too, unsure what to do.
"Of course not. I'm not that merciful." He replies calmly.
Suddenly, we hear footsteps echo towards us. As if on cue, Everley appears at the end of the hallway. But the moment she sees Alister, her expression falters. A flash of fear ripples across her face that makes her pause in her tracks.
There's a palpable shift in the air around Alister, his power humming just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. And even Everley can sense it.
"Shoot them! Open fire, now!" She screams desperately. Her six staff, poised behind her like trained dogs waiting for a command, are quick to follow suit.
But all it takes is a flick of his wrist, and the guns rips out of their hands. As if they were nothing more than light paperclips caught in a gust of wind. The guns spin in midair, barrels now pointed directly at their owners as if each gun had a mind of its own.
And then—bang.
The sound of gunfire erupts, ringing off the walls. Everley's staff barely had time to run before they are pumped full of bullets.
Yet Alister doesn't move an inch. He doesn't flinch as the chaos unfolds around him, his cold eyes locked on Everley with a gaze so intense, it could pierce steel.
He stands amidst the carnage when he finally drops the guns. But Everley is spared. She looks at him with fear in her eyes as her body trembles.
Alister's hand suddenly clutches his chest. Blood seeps from his lips, staining them a sickly red. His knees nearly give way under him, but he forces himself to remain standing.
Everley, sensing the vulnerability, reacts instantly, reaching for a gun and aiming it squarely at Alister's head.
But she wasn't fast enough.
Her scream of pain cuts through the air as her gun is dropped from her grasp, her hand jerking violently back, and her finger—the one that was about to pull the trigger—is blown clean off. Blood spurts from the stump, splattering the floor.
"Don't even think about it." I say, glaring as I lower my gun, still warm from the shot.
"Clara?" Zach chimes in. "Didn't you say we were in a hurry?"
I feel Alister glance at me from the corner of his eye. Pride in his slightly softened eyes. He wipes the blood from his lips, a smirk threatening to break out.
"Clara!" Zach yells out, grabbing my arm, urging me to stop him.
"Ok, ok." I sigh and look at Alister, at his silver glowing nails. "You only have 3 minutes."
Zach stares at me in shock and slams a palm to his forehead in frustration.
Alister lets out a dry chuckle as he raises his hand. Everley is lifted off the ground, her limbs yanked outward like an unseen force is stretching her apart. Her left hand bends at an unnatural angle, her fingers curling backwards. The sickening snap of bones breaking is drowned out only by the ragged, guttural shriek that tears from her throat. He's going to break her bones one by one.
"There's a boy," I tell Zach, pulling his attention back to me. "Further east. In the prisons near the central area. Hallway 4-E, I guess."
Everley's right arm wrenches backward, the bone snapping clean through. We wince as her scream spikes, high-pitched and agonized.
"You want to go and rescue him? What if he's dead?" Zach asks, concern swirling in his emerald eyes as his brows pull together.
"He's alive. And it's not that far from here. We could just head there, get him, and escape." I urge him.
"Clara..." he begins, and I can sense him trying to be as polite as possible. "The prisoners here are left in such a horrible state I'm not sure they'll live long. They've been treated worse than animals."
His words hit like a stone dropped in water, rippling through the heat rising in my chest. "That's exactly why we shouldn't leave the boy alone. I...I watched his father die right infront of my eyes, begging that monster to let his son go." I glance at Everley as her leg is twisted. "I can't just leave without him. And you two don't need to come with me. I can go by myself if you're against it."
He sighs. "Well, if I can't get everyone out of here, then maybe one person will do."
If there's anyone in our group who I thought would understand my urgency, it's Zach. This isn't about logic. It isn't about the long-term consequences or the risk of being tracked. This was about now.
It's just saving a human.
Everley's screams die down, and her head lolls, eyes rolling back. With a final sound of her spine being broken, her limp, battered body is allowed to fall on the floor. Blood pools beneath her twisted limbs as Alister stretches his neck and rolls his shoulders as if he just got done with a workout.
"What do you plan to do with the kid?" he asks, the silver glow dimming out of his eyes.
"What?"
"Imagine you do get him out. Where do you plan to keep him? He has no home, and wherever you place him, these people will come for him as the sole witness of the people who committed this massacre. They'll kill whoever keeps him."
He pauses, walking toward me. Hands folded behind his back like he's giving some formal report. "And if you're planning on keeping him, then I hate to say this…"
I want to tell him not to. If it's something I'd hate too, then why not do us both a favor and shut up?
"…But you're a runaway. And currently homeless."
Zach and I gasp at the same time at the audacity. He opens his mouth to say more—probably something condescending and "rational"—but I'm done listening.
I turn on my heel and walk away.
"You're an idiot, aren't you?" I hear Zach whisper to Alister as they both follow me.
I don't need them. I'll do it alone. He's telling me all these things like I haven't already figured them out myself. I know it's dangerous, but I'll figure something out. I always do, and I'll keep doing it.
"Clara, wait..." I can hear the subtle guilt in Alister's voice but still don't stop. "I only meant...that your whole thing with your family is going to make you the center of attention. And if you have that kid with you, these people will soon find out and come after you."
I grumble as we emerge into what must be the central area of the facility. It's an open, circular expanse with a high domed ceiling made of polished concrete, ribbed with rusted support beams like the inside of some sunken, industrial cathedral. Wires and pipes run across the upper walls, hissing occasionally with bursts of steam.
There's 'East Sector', painted in chipped red above a wide hallway and I head towards it.
A hand clamps around my arm, halting me mid-step. I twist around sharply, glaring.
"Then what—"
"I know all that, okay!" I snap, louder than I mean to, before I lower it quickly. "I'm not that dense. I know the consequences."
Alister just looks at me with that infuriating calmness of his.
"I'm not like you, ok?" The words slip out before I can filter them. "I can't just shut it all down. I can't stop myself from feeling things. I know we should focus on getting out, I know that, but—" I shut my eyes.
And they're all there again.
The recent faces of all the girls from my nightmares come crashing in. The moments before their death, as they stared into the distance with vacant eyes. The same eyes the woman from the basement had. And the ones the man had. And Gwen. The feel of the tiny beating heart of the baby under my fingertips and Lev's smooth feathers.
Those things are engraved into my mind.
I open my eyes and meet his. "If I can't save another person, if I walk away knowing I could've done something and chose not to, then I'm never going to forgive myself."
He doesn't argue. Instead, one of his hands settles on my shoulder. "Okay, relax. We'll do whatever you want. Now lead the way."
I blink, a little stunned, but nod and continue walking. As we move through the hub and descend deeper, the facility's structure starts to become familiar and somewhat less difficult to navigate.
"Let's be quick. And don't worry about the staff. I'll handle them." Alister is looking pale again—paler than usual. He hides it well, but I can tell he's near his limit.
I hear Zach snort. "That's so cute and chivalrous of you." he teases, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Even Alister's lips twitch like he's struggling not to smile. I stop.
Without warning, I whirl around and fire a single round—right in the gap between them. They both halt.
"I have been single-handedly killing with two ripped nails and breathing problems." I say, with dead seriousness. "I will NOT be mocked by a big, easy-target moron with no powers and a psycho who's about to become dead weight. Literally. Understand?"
They blink. Then both of them swallow hard and speak in unison. "Yes, ma'am."
Satisfied, I smirk and pivot back toward the end of 4-E, where two heavy steel doors stand side by side.
Alister pulls out a white keycard and swipes it across the scanner. A soft beep, and the door slides. He tosses it over to Zach, nodding toward the next door.
He catches it and glances over. "How are we supposed to identify the kid?"
"Oh, uh..." I pause, mentally sifting through the memory. "His father's name was Randall. He had an anchor tattoo on his left arm."
I follow Zach into the next room.
Inside, the smell hits me first—metal, mildew, and something sour.
Rows of cells line both sides of the long corridor. Darkness presses against the barred doors, but I can make out the silhouettes—dozens of people strung up by chains bolted to the ceilings. Most don't even lift their heads. Some are slumped unnaturally. It takes me a second to realize why.
Their legs. Gone. Bloodstains mark the concrete beneath every body like tally marks. Zach had told me they were mistreated. But this isn't mistreatment. This is mutilation.
"Is anyone here related to a man named Randall? Anchor tattoo. Left arm!" He yells.
Nobody answers. Not a single sound beyond the quiet rattle of chains. My stomach drops.
Were their tongues taken, too?
"…Dad?"
We bolt down the corridor, stopping before the fifth cell.
My gut twists.
The boy is curled into a ball in the far corner, scraped knees drawn to his chest. He stares at us with brown puffy eyes, and his hair is matted with dust. He looks no older than four.
Lying near the opposite wall is a woman. Her legs are intact, but she isn't moving. Her skin is littered with bruises in every shade of purple and brown. The tattered pieces of clothes barely cover her body, and one arm seems to be broken.
She's so still. Too still.
No. Please don't let it be what I think.
"Randall… is he your father?" I ask, forcing my voice not to break.
"…Yes."
Zach frowns and knocks his knuckles against the iron bars, testing their strength.
He grips one and pulls. The metal groans in protest as he strains against it. It manages to snap free. He tosses the jagged piece aside and reaches for the next.
"Kid, what's your name?" He asks, still catching his breath as he steps back, surveying the gap he made in the bars.
The little boy shifts. "M-Micah."
"Micah, walk toward us."
Slowly—shakily—Micah uncurls from the corner and stumbles forward on bare feet.
"That's it… come here, little man." Zach gently lifts Micah through the space and pulls him close. The boy leans into him instantly, small fists bunching in Zach's shirt. Just then, Alister peeks in from the main door. "Nothing in the other cells. Did you two—"
He stops as the sound of fabric ripping draws both their attention.
I've got the hem of my shirt clenched in one fist, tearing off two long strips of cloth. The cold air hits the skin under my ribs, and I realize too late how far the tear went. My whole stomach is visible.
Zach quickly looks away. "Uh...what are you doing?"
Alister doesn't speak. Just stares with something swimming in his eyes. He blinks once and turns away. "So this is how you planned to handle the staff?" he says, not nearly as calmly as he wants it to be.
"Shut up." I reply, too focused on the boy to care. I offer Micah a warm smile. "Hold still for me, okay?" I start wrapping the cloth around one knee, then the other. He flinches at first but relaxes after a second.
Alister's impatient voice echoes off the walls. "Hurry up!"
Zach and I groan as we roll our eyes. "Does he ever not bark orders?" I ask.
Zach shrugs as he stands, shifting Micah's weight in his arms. Next, we run out of the cells. Alister's back leading the way ahead of us.
"But...what about mama?" The kid whimpers.
"Oh, we'll be back for them later." Zach replies as we share an uncomfortable glance.
"No! get her too." He says, squirming and his eyes getting glossy.
"Kid," Alister begins and I'm about to tell him to not make matters worse by whatever insensitive thing he plans to say. "We knocked out all the bad guys, so your parents are safe. For now. Once we get out of here, the police will rescue them and everyone. So cooperate until then."
I'm not sure Micah knows what 'cooperate' means but the words do seem to make him calm down a little even if he's still in tears.
When we make it to the west sector. I push ahead, sprinting faster to stay in front of them both. My guns are up, eyes sharp, body braced for anything.
Zach calls out. "Just one more hallway. The elevator's supposed to be at the end!"
But the moment I turn the corner, I skid to a halt.
Four guards. Guns already raised.
"Shit—"
Bullets explode from their barrels before I can even lift my weapon. Luckily, a hand grabs my arm and yanks me back hard, just out of range. I slam into Alister's chest with enough force to jolt the air from my lungs. I almost freeze for reasons that have nothing to do with bullets. His grip stays firm on my arm as he looks out into hall where the shots are being fired.
I exhale sharply and twist out of his grasp.
"For the love of—" I mutter, brushing my sleeve down. "The number of times my arm's been yanked around by you two, it's a miracle it hasn't popped out of its socket."
Then a voice cuts in.
"Don't waste bullets. Follow them."
Alister stills.
His eyes flash silver. A slow, dangerous grin spreads across his face. "Ah," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I was wondering when he'd show up."
I elbow him in the ribs. He lets out a grunt, but I don't care.
"Stay hidden." I hiss.
I can hear their footsteps inch closer and quickly activate my ability.
Slipping out of my hiding place, I aim the barrels at two approaching staff and another at the one who is the first to stop in his tracks at seeing floating guns in the air. I sidestep and shoot the last one.
But as they fall, I notice there was another person who I didn't count before, standing infront of the elevator.
I recognize him. The bearded man who watched us at the retreat. But now there's something different. A metallic sheen dusts his forehead and hands, like silver powder fused to skin.
I shoot the pistol off his hand, which is a surprisingly clean shot on just the gun even though I aimed at his hand. His hand is fine. Before I can dwell on it, I shoot between his eyes.
And the bullet ricochets off.
I stare, paralyzed, as the man steps forward, unfazed. The silver dust blossoms, unfurling across his cheeks, his smirk, his throat, his arms—until his entire body gleams like forged steel. Looking like a grey mannequin wearing tan linen shirt and trousers. I finally see him for what he is: metal, head to toe.
I fire again. Another ricochet.
"Well, this is going to be a problem." Alister grumbles, looking more annoyed than horrified. The man shifts into a stance that says he's ready to chase us.
Zach looks at me with the proper reaction and response I expect from witnessing this. "Run?"
"Run."