The weight of her loss wore heavy on Chrissie’s downturned face. She pointed a finger at me, her black hair lying in limp scraggly strands, her brows drawn together in sorrow.
“I know you didn’t directly do this, Abby. But it feels like all of this happened because of you ... Chandra ... the torture. Because you came to our compound. Because Olden wanted you.” She sobbed once before composing herself. “Just stay away from me; I don’t want to see you again. You can only be a reminder of everything I’ve lost.”
I swallowed and opened my mouth to ... I don’t know ... apologize or something. But the look on her face said she didn’t want to hear it. My breathing was harsh and ragged as I stared at Chrissie. Seeing no forgiveness there, I just nodded my head once. Chrissie wiped roughly at her tears before turning and walking away without a backwards glance.
Ouch! I clutched at my throat as her words resonated deep. And she was right. Indirectly, I was the reason for many lives lost.
I knew I’d made myself an enemy, from someone I had once counted as a friend. A few of my own tears escaped the corner of my eyes, their saltiness making its way to gather on my lips. I batted them away angrily.
My heart was heavy as I turned to make my way back to the people gathering at the junction of the path.
A man dove at me from behind a large pile of boxes. Instinct and training kicked in. Hitting the floor hard, I already had my knife in my hand, ready for the attack.
He came at me quickly, darting in with his own switch-blade held aloft. I managed to dodge two attacks, and I nicked him twice in the process. He was fast, flicking droplets of blood as he stabbed toward me. Changing tactics, I threw out a progression of roundhouse kicks and elbows. There was a distinct groan as I connected with his mid-section. I darted away again.
As I went to take him down, I looked around and realized he had been herding me toward a back section. I was now in a secluded space, separated from my group.
Stupid me.
I’d been so busy with the fighting I hadn’t noticed.
Then another man came at me from the side.
I held both hands in front, my right clutching my best chance: the throwing knife. With a flick of my wrist I nailed the first man in the right side of his chest, high up. Not fatal – if he found help. The other charged me at that moment. I used his momentum and body weight to throw him clean over my head and into a pile of boxes.
Olden appeared at my right side.
“Hello, Abigail,” she said as she lunged at me. Her thin physique hid strength I had no idea she possessed.
I attempted to dodge the second attack, but something tangled at my feet brought me down. I landed next to the man, who still had my knife in his chest. He’d somehow dragged himself over, leaving large trailing puddles of blood, to wrap his arms around my legs. I ordered my stomach not to react to the pungent aroma of the congealing blood.
Olden straddled me. “The master wants you, Abigail. But he didn’t say in what condition.” She laughed.
Her eyes were bright, feverish. Her pupils were dilated and moving rapidly. She was so off-her-face.
I wriggled and kicked, but with the man on my legs I was stuck.
“Get off me; I don’t have time to deal with your particular brand of crazy today,” I yelled into her face. Gods I hated her.
She moved in a quick motion and a sharp burning pain was my first indication. Looking down, I shook my head. I knew I was in shock. Nothing was registering.
With my free right hand, I reached out and grasped the handle of the large knife that had just been plunged into my chest.
“I wouldn’t move so much.” Olden leaned close to hiss at me. “You wouldn’t want that blade to twitch any closer to your heart.”
The pain was nauseating, the world flashing at me in black then color. My vision wavered. Squeezing my eyes closed, I grasped the knife, attempting to yank it free.
An ear-piercing scream echoed.
I realized it was from me. Hoarse little gasps bubbled from my lips. I waited to die. I wanted to die – or black out at least.
From the shadows, Brace appeared behind Olden. Even through the flashing world and blinding pain, relief flooded over me.
He lifted her from me, his expression dark and deadly. With a cold and clinical ability, he broke her neck. Without effort. It was so quick she hadn’t even had a chance to turn her head.
Throwing her aside, he moved toward me. But he was intercepted by two black-clad men. Brace’s half-smile glower was terrifying; if I had been facing him right now I would have run for my life. Adrenalin flooded through me, which forced my heart to pump faster, and the blood to gush out around the knife wound. I was afraid for Brace – and it only took thirty frantic seconds for me to realize I didn’t have to be.