Damn it.
I’m going to die afraid, alone, and useless. Choked to death by a man I don’t even know.
I’ll be dead.
Analla will be dead.
All of us will be dead and—
Rynthea appears in the doorway and stomps in, kicking the pale man in the lower back with a hoof.
He grunts as he stumbles forward, and his grip around my throat loosens. I collapse on the ground, landing on my hands and knees and gulping down as much air as physically possible.
Rynthea looks from the man to her brother, who is groaning in the corner of the room, struggling to get up. A growl builds in her throat as she whips her scythesword in a motion way too quick to capture and swings at the man.
The man dodges her strike with ease and kicks at her ankles, but she doesn’t buckle. Instead, she kicks him straight in the chest. His body crashes through the glass windows as I stagger to a stand, watching him land outside and flop a time or two.
“Torjack,” she breathes, rushing to her brother. She taps his cheek as he groans again. “Hey, Tor, you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“I told you to get your assout of here!”
“She needed her bag!” Torjack retorts.
Rynthea looks back at me with a frustrated huff.
“I’m sorry.” My voice wavers as guilt consumes me. I didn’t mean for Torjack to get hurt. He could’ve died because of me.
Rynthea sighs. “It’s fine. Just get out of here. Both of you. Take the back exit and get to the bunker. I’ll meet you there when this is settled.”
When Torjack is on his hooves again, Rynthea leads the way out. Before we can even reach the middle of the hallway, though, another one of the masked men appears. She doesn’t hesitate taking him out. After cutting through him like warm butter, she storms ahead of us and shoves the back door open.
“Go!” she orders.
I run outside after Torjack but end up tripping over something and falling flat on my stomach. My spectacles slide off the bridge of my nose as I land on the ground. Then an unknown object wraps tightly around my ankle. I look back and see the blur of the masked man with the red stitching again. He holds up a stiff hand and reels me toward him like I’m a fish on a hook.
Rynthea roars as she jumps over me to attack him. An onslaught begins as three more people appear. Somehow, through all the mayhem, the man with red stitching holds my ankle steady while fighting Rynthea off with whorls of blue and smoke.
“Come on, Zaira!” Torjack yells.
“I can’t!” I scream. “He has my ankle! I can’t move!”
“Shit!” Torjack curses.
Someone flies out the back door, across the field, and slams into the ground with a thud only a few inches away from me. They’re bloodied and dead…definitely dead. My hand searches desperately for my spectacles, but the body has landed on top of them.
“No!” I wail. “No, no, no!” I shove the man’s leg off of them, only to see shattered lenses. I start to grab them, but someone beats me to it and snatches them up. Another masked person. A woman.
She tugs her mask down to sneer at me. “Can’t see? What a shame.” She tosses them in Torjack’s direction, then lifts her sword, about to bring it down on me until another sword penetrates her chest, driving straight through her heart.
“Get out of here, Quinlocke!” I hear Thane shout.
Of course he’s killed the woman with precision like that.
The woman crumples to her knees, then her head slams into the ground.
I feel the grip around my ankle weaken when someone lets out a loud yell. I’m not entirely sure, but based on their blurry silhouettes, I think Rynthea has just injured the man with red stitching.
