Just when she was about to step into the fight, Atticus was there. He grabbed the human lunging for Keegan’s exposed back and snapped the guy’s neck with no more feeling than if he’d broken a pencil. He tossed the body aside like he was taking out the trash. The man thudded into a wall hard enough to crack it, then slid down the surface, leaving streaks of blood and brain matter on the wall before landing with a juicy thwack.
As the last soldier and Keegan circled each other, the man’s form shimmered and the blade aimed to cleave him in two passed right through him like slicing water. Tiny droplets of blood splattered the air just as he took form. Then the guy locked eyes with her. Ignoring everyone else in the room, he gave a vicious smile, drew back his arm and threw his knife at her.
Atticus bellowed in denial and charged toward her, but he was too far away.
The blade blurred, much too fast to dodge.
Without missing a beat, she felt the blade shifting air as if in slow motion, and she lashed out with the flat of her palm, knocking it away. It missed her by inches and pinged against the ground.
Keegan moved in a blur, shoving his two-edged sword clear through the soldier’s chest, pinning him against the wall like some sixth grade bug experiment.
The man grunted, gripping the sword. His form shimmered, but his body remained solid, and he gaped at Keegan in shock. “How?”
Keegan cocked his head, studying his prey, his face hard and devoid of emotions. “You’re a weak Atlantean, your bloodlines impure. You lack any sort of training or skills. If you were just a little stronger or smarter, you’d have been able to escape, but you expended too much energy and can’t phase.”
Her ears perked up at the spill of information. Before she could ask any questions of her own, Atticus skidded to a stop in front of her, his chest heaving as he grabbed her arms and frantically searched her for injuries, running his hands over her.
Her eyes widened when she got her first close look at him.
He wasn’t human—at least not completely.
In the darkness, she hadn’t noticed he appeared bigger, the muscles of his arms and legs nearly splitting the seams of his clothing, a few buttons threatening to pop off the shirt. Even more startling was his face. While she still recognized him, he was definitely not Atticus at the moment.
Splinters of red ate away the green coloring in his eyes. They glowed brightly in the darkness, as if something else stared out of them, fangs peeked out from between his lips, and scruff peppered his jaw that hadn’t been there when they entered the abandoned zone.
He wasn’t deformed like the soldiers. There was a beauty to him, a symmetry that drew the eyes and made her want to reach out and touch him.
His change explained why some of the soldiers who survived the serum turned into beasts, while others were enhanced.
Shifting into a beast must be another ability that had become tainted along the way.
He was nothing like the guard dogs Kronos created. Power similar to that of a large predator radiated from him. He had total control, an awareness of his surroundings, completely opposite to the ravenous beasts Kronos created, their voracious hunger consuming every second of their waking thoughts.
Almost like Atticus was a more evolved version of those troglodytes.
Atticus’s chest stopped heaving, as if he just noticed she was studying him as much as he was studying her. He hunched his shoulders, ducking his head, half turning away from her.
Maniacal laughter broke them apart, and they turned to face the soldier pinned to the wall. “They don’t know who you really are, do they?”
Blood trickled down the impaled man’s chin when he chuckled, his eyes gleaming maliciously. He completely ignored the men gathering around him and focused on her. “The last thing the superiors expected was for you to turn your back on your own people.”
Rage burned along her nerve endings. “Not my people. I don’t kill innocents.”
“Soldiers kill people, doesn’t matter who they are—we follow orders.” He smiled with bloodstained teeth. “You were kept alive for one purpose—your blood carries the key component needed to complete the serum and stabilize the soldiers who will save humanity from the coming war. Are you really surprised they’d be willing to sacrifice you to get it?”
Octavia was ready to lunge and rip out his throat to shut him up, but when she got close, Atticus let out a low growl that froze her to the spot. The soldier lunged for her, doing nothing but impaling himself further on the sword.
She nearly gagged at the tainted in his blood, struggling not to inhale the stink too deeply. With every pump of his heart, more blood spilled down his chest until decay seeped into every corner of the room. “I can smell the stench of death on you as your cells slowly rot. Even without the sword in your chest, you’re dying. You know it’s too late for you, even if they find the antidote.”
She crouched and retrieved the blade he’d thrown at her, spinning it between her fingers. “You volunteered for this mission, hoping to hunt me down, but you had no intention of capturing me. You wanted me dead. You want to punish them for killing you by taking away their hope of a cure.”
“You ran away, then hid like a terrified child, ignoring the gifts they gave you. You’re a fucking god, you could do anything, yet you cower and help the enemy.” The soldier snarled, taking another step toward her, spearing himself farther on the sword, more blood pooling on the ground in an ever-increasing circle. “Come closer, little girl. If I drink your blood down, I bet I wouldn’t need Kronos and their stupid rules.”
He licked his lips, a greedy light shimmering in his eyes, and grabbed the blade, the sharp edges cutting through his hands down to the bone. Ignoring the blood gushing between his fingers, he struggled to work himself free, fury turning his face bright red. With each movement, he widened the wound until his chest gaped open. No matter how he twisted and tried to wrench himself off the sword, the blade remained embedded in stone. His body tried to heal, his eyes flickering bright, then dimming seconds later.
He was too weak.
Warrick staggered to his feet, accepting Nikos’s help to keep him upright. His face was a pasty gray, his shirt torn and soaked with blood. Through the gap, she could see the badly healed scab just a fraction away from his heart. He held himself stiffly, and she suspected he’d stopped Nikos from healing him completely so he could remain conscious to hear the conversation.
“You squander the gift they gave you,” the soldier snarled, spittle and blood dribbling down his chin. Despite repeatedly trying to heal himself, life continued to drain out of him until only a shell remained. Hatred burned like a fever through him, his breath rattling in his chest as he panted. “So much potential given to a woman…what a waste.”
She leaned closer, getting right in his face, the smell of blood and death lingering between them. “Maybe the serum didn’t bond with you for a reason—it can sense evil, like your need for death and destruction. My guess it’s sucked the life out of you on purpose.”
She lifted the blade in her hand and slammed it right into his heart. “Let me help.”
Chapter Nine
The soldier’s eyes widened in shock, and he choked on his blood.
Octavia watched the light fade from his eyes. He slumped forward, his body sagging on the blade, the metal bowing slightly under his full weight.
Dark smoke snaked out of his pores to swirl into the air. It hovered around the body and flashes of last night came roaring back, filling some of the gaps in her missing memories.
The smoke was different, though. No light or power shimmered inside, like it was dead or tainted. She reached out to touch the smog where it hovered over the body, hoping the touch would retrieve her missing memories, but the sickness in it repelled her. Atticus captured her wrist and dragged her away from the contaminated cloud.
She turned to see his face was mostly back to normal. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, a snarl curled his lips, revealing a slightly smalle
r set of fangs. “Toxic.”
“Do you see…” She snapped her mouth closed when their curious gazes landed on her.
They either were used to seeing the darkness…or they didn’t see anything at all.
Even as she watched, it flaked away and drifted to the ground like ash, leaving behind the smell of rotten eggs.
If the guys knew what was happening to her, they weren’t sharing.
And she wanted answers.
She cleaned the knife by wiping the bloody blade across the soldier’s arm, then tucked it into the waistband of her pants, taking a second to gather herself before she faced them.
And found the team watching her intently.
She crossed her arms and glared, daring them to try and take the weapon.
No hint of emotions remained on their faces, making her defensive, which just pissed her off more. “What? It was a kindness to put him out of his misery. His body would’ve struggled to heal for hours before he eventually died. There was no way he was going to come back from that, he was too injured, and we don’t have the time to wait.”
“Of course it was a mercy,” Nikos murmured.
Right—why would they be freaked out by death? They dealt with it every day. They hadn’t interfered with her questioning because they wanted answers to her past, things she wasn't ready to reveal.
She tightened her lips and lifted her chin, refusing to say more, not until they spilled some of their tightly-held secrets. “We need to leave. When the troops don’t report back, they’ll know something went wrong. I don’t want to be here when they come to investigate.”
Warrick crossed his arms, copying her pose, not intimidated in the least. “We’re not leaving until you tell us the truth.”
Anger burned in her gut, and Octavia threw up her hands in exasperation and shook her head. She’d had enough. “No. I’m out. I’ll find the answers I need on my own, a way that won’t get me killed because you’re too stupid to listen to a simple warning.”
Without waiting for him to respond, she headed toward the door. She had the pleasure of seeing Warrick’s eyes widen before they narrowed dangerously, but he was no longer her concern. She gave them fair warning. If they wanted to stay and die, not her problem.
As soon as the brisk, early evening air hit her face, she brought two fingers up to her mouth and gave a sharp whistle, then headed across the square. She was halfway through when she noticed Atticus was storming after her. Her heart hiccupped violently against her ribs, and she braced herself, waiting for him to try and stop her.
Instead, he simply kept pace, walking alongside her in silence.
A flicker of light in one of the buildings had her switching directions, and she edged her way through the rotten, colorfully tagged plyboards covering the doorway. The interior was dark and abandoned…or made to look that way. She headed upstairs, the floors creaking even under her light weight. She skipped the first two rooms, their doors barely hanging by the hinges, and headed toward the one lost in shadows.
She knocked once, and the door opened to reveal petite little Nettie. Octavia studied her more closely, and the tension went out of her shoulders. “You got the kid out.”
“Kids,” Nettie mumbled, giving Atticus a quick once-over, her face and eyes hard, then she opened the door and walked away to allow them to enter. “We managed to save seven while you distracted them.” The place was as neat as a pin, the room’s furnishings sparse.
“Good.” Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. “You did good.”
The teenager went back to the window and watched the square with narrowed eyes. “You’re heading out again.”
It wasn’t a question.
“The soldiers will be coming after me now. We’ll leave them a trail to follow.” Her insides tightened at the thought of being hunted once again—and having to give up another one of her hideouts.
“It’s different this time. You’re different.” Nettie nibbled on her fingers, her nails bitten to the quick, a nervous gesture she couldn’t hide. “You won’t be back.”
Octavia reached up to touch her face but stopped herself—the girl didn’t mean her appearance.
Somehow the kid knew things had changed, and Octavia couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. As much as she wanted to deny the accusation and tell Nettie she’d be back, she couldn’t make that promise. Her future was no longer her own. She refused to bring war to the people of the abandoned city. “Send the cleaners to the square. They have twenty minutes max. And tell everyone to go to ground.”
Nettie immediately pulled out a phone and shot off a couple of texts, a series of letters and numbers, a code they used to communicate with each other.
Octavia went to the partially torn-down wall that was mostly bare studs, reached down into the dark opening, and pulled out a go-to bag.
Nettie turned away from the window and nodded toward the pack, her eyes red-rimmed, but too proud to show tears. “I picked up a few outfits for you as well.”
She could’ve kissed the girl. It didn’t take long for her to strip and dress in her own clothes. While a bit snug, they still fit. The assortment of weapons was mostly blades. She strapped the gun from the bag to her thigh, feeling a tiny bit better with its comforting weight.
When done, she hugged Nettie, smiling when the kid squirmed a second before latching onto her tight enough to make her ribs creak. “I’ll do my best to come back. Stay at my place. You’ll find money, supplies, and a list of contacts. You’ll be safe there.”
Nettie nodded, her hold tightening, then she sniffed and turned toward the window, scrubbing at her face. “You have one month to check in or I’m sending people after you.”
Octavia saw the stubborn tilt to her chin and knew she meant every word. “One month.”
A promise.
She just hoped she lived long enough to keep it.
Knowing Nettie wouldn’t break the silence or face her again, Octavia steadied her resolve and left. She was doing the right thing—the only thing—to keep her people safe. It was only when they were back outside, breathing fresh air, did the tightness in her chest finally ease.
“She’s family.” Atticus studied the building for a few seconds, then turned and watched while the people of the abandoned city crept out of the shadows and stripped the bodies of everything of value.
Rather than staying to watch, Octavia headed out of the city, purposely not hiding her trail. It didn’t take long for the rest of the guys to catch up.
Warrick kept glancing back at the scavengers, his eyes dark with censure. “They have no right to—”
“Clean up after your people that you’ve abandoned and left to die?” she asked sweetly, cutting him off before he could say something that would make her want to shoot him. Actually, he only had to open his mouth for her to get that itchy feeling in her fingers.
Nikos smirked, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had wandered.
She refused to let her lips twitch as she continued on her way back to the truck. “Would you prefer to leave them out in the open to rot? Will you send people to clean it up? I mean, they’re mostly just humans left. What about next time? And the time after that? People come to this part of the city to either escape their life or end it.”
Warrick closed his mouth without speaking, looking troubled.
“What will happen to them?” Keegan kept his focus on their surroundings, not letting any of his emotions escape, although his eyes glowed mostly silver, revealing how bothered he was by what he saw in the square.
“The scavengers do this for a living. They will strip the bodies, then either burn or sell the corpses. It might not seem like it, but each scavenger is carefully selected. They treat the bodies with respect, even say prayers over the dead when no one else comes to claim them.”
“You call that respectful?” Warrick snorted in disgust. “They rob the dead, strip them of anything of value, including their dignity. They’re nothing more than grave robbers.”<
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“The dead aren’t going to need it where they’re going.” Octavia shrugged, wanting to knock him off his high horse. “If we just left them to rot, the whole city would be turned into a graveyard by the end of the month. It’s no different than humans calling a funeral director to pick up their dead. As far as the people of the city are concerned, as soon as anyone sets foot in the abandoned zone, they belong to us.”
“They deserve better.”
Octavia turned her head and glared at him over her shoulder. “I agree with you on that. Too bad no one gave a shit about them when it could’ve done some good. It’s only after they die that people get their knickers in a twist. Eldon did his best, but look where that got him.”
“Half of those scavengers are nothing more than children!” Warrick snarled, as if completely appalled at her choice of management.
As she opened her mouth to respond, Atticus gave a bark of laughter, but there was no amusement in the tone. “None of them are children, not really. You know better than that. Children grow up too fast during war. They’re part of the hive here, part of the food chain. Outsiders don’t see them as a threat, which gives them more power. They’re like feral wolves and move in packs. If you’d bothered to talk with any of them, you’d see they’re more ambitious than the men who guard the borders, and they’re the ones who will eventually run this place.”
The guys fell silent as they left the boundaries of the abandoned city, each lost in their own dark thoughts, none of them arguing with Atticus. Octavia couldn’t help but wonder what horrors the man had survived to be so perceptive.
As they approached the edge of the city, Rogers gave her a nod of respect as they exited the zone, but his eyes were drawn toward the guys, suspicions darkening them—he was no doubt calculating how much he could get for each one.
Nikos slowed and fell into step beside her, his smile this side of evil as he watched the men, probably imagining ways to take the humans apart in the fastest, most efficient way possible. The psycho was back, his brown eyes nearly black as he hummed—she’d swear to the gods—I’m a Little Teapot under his breath, spinning a blade in his hand as he pointed it at the humans, even going as far as to do some of the mannerisms of the song as he dipped and twirled along at her side, pretending he was a fucking teapot.
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