Adam's eyes widened when he heard Jake's words.
Kill them?
Grace and Samantha?
He was ready to grab the knife from Jake, but he stopped and completely froze when he heard that. He was ready to protect them, he had the resolve to do so.
But kill them?
Why?
But Adam didn't think that he would get his answer immediately.
"I've already seen the worst of humanity right in front of me," Jake muttered through gritted teeth, his gaze locking onto Grace and Samantha. "They will do unspeakable things to the mother when they see her… and they will do the same to her daughter."
He didn't wait for a response. He shoved the knife into Adam's hand and rushed back out, grabbing another blade on his way.
Adam stared down at the weapon.
His fingers trembled—hard. His reflection wavered on the steel, distorted by the shaking of his hands. His thoughts spun, wild and frantic.
But then—he took a breath. A deep, shuddering breath.
And he turned back to Grace and Samantha.
Grace said nothing. She simply reached out, wrapping her fingers around his trembling hand, gently pulling him down to sit beside her.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
The sound of metal scraping.
The shutters lifted.
And the roars and screams that followed…
So loud they jolted Samantha awake.
"M-Mommy? What… what's going on!?"
Samantha clung to Grace, curling into her, burying her face in her mother's chest. "I'm… I'm scared."
"I know, sweetie. I know."
Grace wrapped her arms around her daughter—tight, but gentle. "Cover your ears, sweetie. Cover your ears."
She was terrified. So much so that it felt like the entire kitchen was closing in, crushing her under its weight. But the only sound she focused on was Samantha's shaky breaths.
It was the only sound that mattered now.
Adam, meanwhile, sat frozen, eyes locked on the door.
The screams from the dining hall bled into the kitchen—shouts, cries, the clash of metal. Among them, he could hear Jake, grunting, roaring, fighting. And he could hear the others—screaming in agony.
A sound too familiar.
A sound that made his entire body tremble.
He curled onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, hands clamping over his ears.
But it didn't help.
The screams didn't come from outside anymore.
They came from his mind.
His memories.
It was his own scream he was hearing now.
"Stop it…" he whispered. "Please… stop hurting each other."
The sounds inside his head grew deafening, a shrill, piercing whistle cutting through his skull, drilling into his bones until even his teeth ached.
And then—
Silence.
The whistle vanished.
Replaced by the slow, creaking hiss of a door opening.
A collective gasp filled the kitchen as they all looked at the door, waiting to see who would emerge from it.
Grace's grip on Adam's hand tightened.
Adam's breath hitched as he caught sight of his own reflection in the knife again.
Slowly, he turned his gaze toward the door.
And it wasn't Jake.
The figure standing there was bathed in blood, their armor slick with it, their weapons dripping.
Above their head, a Blue Halo glowed.
No one moved. No one breathed.
Grace instinctively covered Samantha's mouth to keep her silent.
But it didn't matter.
Because someone else—one of the people hiding beside them—cracked first.
And screamed, loud.
"N-No! Please… please don't kill us!"
"There really are people here!"
The creeps from the Blue team flooded into the kitchen, one of them flipping on the lights, exposing everyone cowering inside.
Like… rats—cornered, trembling, and filled with fear.
"Do… we really need to kill them?" one of the creeps muttered, glancing uneasily at the terrified faces before them. "They're not even fighting."
"No."
The leader stepped forward, scanning the room. "What if they slip past us? If they reach our Outer Crystal, we're screwed. We can't take that risk. Kill them. If you don't have the stomach for it, get out."
"But—"
"Joseph."
The man revolting flinched upon seeing their leader gesture to a large man.
"Shut the fuck up and just go outside."
The man was immediately pushed and kicked out by the large man, Joseph. With an irritated scoff, he also shoved the others, leaving only himself and the leader inside.
Joseph locked the door. "Wasting our time with cowards, Donald."
Then, he smirked, wiping the blood off his sword with a dirty cloth from the counter. "Now, let's kill us some fucking newbies. We really lucked out getting the Echo Smith on our team. We—"
Joseph's hands, however, suddenly stopped cleaning his sword when he caught a glimpse of Grace. His tongue, licking his lips as he saw her face.
"Think you can handle the rest?" he said, a sinister smile crawling on his face as he pushed away the counter in front of him and approached Adam, Grace, and Samantha, "I'll… have my hands busy with this lot."
Joseph grabbed his crotch, holding it as he stared at Grace's large chest and skin-tight leggings. He stepped forward, but was suddenly stopped by their leader, Donald.
Donald glared at him before saying,
"My turn first."
Joseph growled but backed off with a twisted smirk. "Then I'll hold the little girl for you."
"Don't do anything to the girl."
"I'm not Harvey."
Donald's voice was laced with disgust as he shoved Joseph aside. Then his eyes found Grace again. Slowly, he licked his lips.
Grace met his gaze—then turned sharply to Adam.
"Do it."
She gripped his trembling hand, forcing it around the knife.
"Kill us."
She tried to lift the blade herself, but Adam refused, shaking his head over and over.
"Please…" Grace's voice cracked. "I don't… I don't want to do it myself."
Adam's breathing turned ragged.
He stared at her—the flicker of hope in her eyes was gone. Snuffed out.
Then he looked at Donald, who smiled at him lazily.
"Stop it. Don't play the hero." Donald's voice was almost mocking. "I can see your hands shaking from here. You're not the type."
"Nathan…" Grace whispered, tightening her grip. "Please…"
Adam's thoughts once again started to become wild. But he couldn't hear the voice that endlessly spoke to him anymore. Right when he needed to hear it, it was gone.
All he could do was stare.
At Grace.
At the knife.
At his reflection on its blade.
His teeth sank into his lip until it bled. A single drop fell onto the steel, blurring his face beneath a smear of red.
And suddenly—
His trembling stopped.
His grip steadied.
"Okay."
The word slipped from his mouth as he raised the knife.
But then—
He saw Samantha.
Not just her. Her eyes.
Wide. Terrified. Pleading.
His resolve shattered.
No—
It didn't shatter.
It turned into something else.
Something sharper.
Something dangerous.
"No…"
Adam shook his head as he slowly stood up, pointing the knife no longer at Grace, but at Donald. Donald tilted his head, watching in amusement.
"Please…"
Adam whispered, his hands trembling as he clutched the knife.
"Just let us go. Please. I don't want this. And you. I promise you...
...you don't want this either."