Текст книги "Intermix Nation "

Автор книги: M. Attardo

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They sit on Adamek’s bed, still barefoot, nestled high in the treetops. His room at the lodge is isolated, probably by request. They had to walk across numerous bridges and climb several sets of stairs to get here. Nazirah’s own room resides much closer to the ground and civilization. There are no windows here, but one of the walls is entirely open, providing a breathtaking view of the forest. Nazirah leans against the headboard, watching tree branches sway in the breeze. Adamek sits across from her. The silver briefcase rests innocuously between them.

He traces the steel. “I knew this day would come,” he says. Nazirah doesn’t respond. She reaches between them and enters the code, unlocking the case. Adamek only shakes his head. He removes two filled syringes and the glass cube, then slides the case under the bed. Adamek sticks Nazirah in the vein, then himself, and discards the syringes. “You injected yourself?” he asks curiously. “When you looked into my memory?”

“It’s not like I could exactly ask Niko to do it for me.”

“What about Caal?”

“Of course not,” she retorts. “He doesn’t even know. That was private.”

“Yes,” he says. “It was.”

“Why do you replay that memory over and over?” she asks, watching him clear the Iluxor. Adamek touches the top, concentrating. It fills with the familiar, swirling mist, glittering in the darkness.

“For the same reason you need to see this one,” he answers. “For closure … for a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“To that doubtful part inside of you,” he says darkly. “How much you really do crave vengeance.”

Adamek reaches for her hand but Nazirah pulls it away, suddenly afraid. She feels completely unprepared. He sighs, grabbing the rungs of the headboard on either side of her head.

“Is it really bad?” she asks softly.

“That’s an impossible question.”

Adamek rests his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. Nazirah shuts hers as well, inhaling his scent of cardamom and sage. She whispers, “Nothing has to change.”

Adamek waits another moment before pulling back. His eyes flit over her face, memorizing every last freckle, fleck, and hue. He takes her hand in his, places them both onto the glass.

“Everything has to change.”

#

Something is burning.

Nazirah opens her eyes and pulls her hand away from Adamek, who stands before her silently. She’s in the front garden of her cottage, which is blossoming with gardenias and jasmine. Riva opens a window, scowling in frustration as she clears out smoke from the kitchen. Nazirah watches Riva relocate to the living room. Kasimir follows her, laughing. Nazirah’s heart swells, practically bursting at the sight of them.

Something creaks to her right. Nazirah turns, watches Adamek Morgen stroll through the rusty gate and up the porch steps. He’s dressed exactly like she expects, all in black with fingerless gloves on. A luxury car is parked out front, still running. He isn’t even trying to be discreet. Coming here to kill her parents is an inconvenience, nothing else. Adamek stops at the door, listening closely.

“I can’t believe I forgot about the bread, Kas,” Riva says faintly.

“Your mind is preoccupied,” Kasimir replies. “She’ll be home soon.”

“Idiots,” Adamek says. He retrieves a foreign device from his pocket, waves it over the door. The door unlocks instantly. Nazirah is propelled inside by the memory. She can hear her parents talking, out of sight, mere feet away.

“Nazirah Nation,” Kasimir bellows. “Get your scrawny behind in here!”

“Have we come to face the music?” Riva snaps.

Adamek smirks, retrieving a pistol from his jacket. He loads the chamber, racks the slide, and steps into the room. “We could say that,” he mocks.

Shock crosses Kasimir’s face. He stands, fearless, shielding Riva. “I know who you are, Adamek Morgen!” he proclaims. “Let my wife go, you bastard! Take me!”

Adamek stifles a yawn. “My parents were actually married when I was conceived,” he says. “But I appreciate the concern.”

He pulls the trigger, shooting Kasimir in the chest. Kasimir slumps to the floor, lifeless. Riva cries out as blood splatters her beautiful face. She sinks down beside her dead husband, sobbing, holding him in her frail arms. Eridian teardrops fall, intermixing with Oseni blood. “Devil!” she wails, fire in her eyes. “Your day will come!”

A second shot sears the air. Riva collapses over Kasimir’s body, wooden puppet with cut strings. Adamek stares emotionlessly at the star-crossed tableau before turning to leave. He turns off the lights and closes the door behind him.

#

Nazirah smacks Adamek across the face.

Then again.

She rises from the bed, gasping for air. Nazirah lifts the Iluxor and hurls it against the nearest wall. It shatters into thousands of tiny shards, glass blowing across the room like the winds of reckoning. Sharp stings cut the soles of her feet. She barely notices.

Nazirah pounds the wall. She wrenches her hair. She walks to the open space until her feet are half over the edge. Nazirah screams into the unanswering forest, flirting with death and wishing she could tumble into obliterating darkness – then pulls back. She whirls around, seething. Nazirah has heard her mother’s last wish, has already made the vow. Adamek Morgen will have his day. And Nazirah Nation will give it to him.

“Get up.”

He rises silently. Nazirah shoves him, but he doesn’t budge. She beats his chest, a barrage of ineffectual fists, unable to crack his ribcage. Collapsing before him, she sobs, animalistic, squeezing the backs of his calves. Her hands slide down, grabbing his ankles. She rests her forehead on the floor before his feet. Reality is escaping her, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand on the shore.

She stands, circles him like a condor preying on the carcass of death. Eyes black, Nazirah unsheathes the dagger from her back pocket, shaking fingers clenched around the handle. The same blade that carved her olive branch of bark will now resurrect her honor.

She is going to kill him.

He is going to let her.

Nazirah grabs Adamek’s throat, feels his pulse. That same pulse she wanted to still the first day they met, now thumping irregularly through his skin. She looks him in the eye, determined, holding the blade against his neck. His mask is down. Nazirah sees the pain, the guilt, the remorse, the acceptance. She sees it all, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. She doesn’t push it in either.

“Do it,” he says.

She doesn’t move.

“Do it!” he repeats.

And still, Nazirah remains frozen in purgatory, unable to choose heaven or hell, unable to decide which is which.

“Take it!” he yells. Adamek wraps his hand around hers, shaking in anger, both of them holding the dagger now. “Take your revenge!”

“I won’t make a martyr out of you,” she says, making her choice. She wrenches her hand away, letting the knife fall to the floor. Shock and disappointment register on his face. “You aren’t worth salvation.”

And, in the most selfish moment of her life, Nazirah kisses him first.

A delayed second – and then he’s kissing her back, brutalizing her mouth. Adamek grabs her waist roughly. Nazirah stands on tiptoe, frantically clawing the front of his shirt. She tries to climb up him, slips, needs to reach him better. Adamek hunches, walks her backwards. Nazirah’s leg hits the end of the bed. She stumbles, falling onto the mattress. Gasping, Adamek breaks away. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly unbuttons his shirt. He slips it off his shoulders, tosses it onto the floor.

His collarbones are straight and long, chest toned, abdomen defined with a slim waist. The bandage on his left arm lingers, a white flag of peace. Adamek clenches and unclenches his fists, watching her watch him. Her eyes skim his hard and soft lines, the angles of his body. Scratches and all, Nazirah thinks he has the most beautiful hands she’s ever seen. Nazirah thinks he is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And right now she wants him, like she’s never wanted anything, like nothing else matters.

And right now she’s okay with that.

Adamek stands over Nazirah as she sits on the bed. He bends low, laying his hands flat on either side of her. Nazirah’s fingers itch to reach out and touch him.

Anywhere.

Everywhere.

He doesn’t kiss her again.

The electricity between them intensifies, spark and crackle. Nazirah is losing control. She pushes herself backwards on her hands, out of reach. He climbs onto the bed, rough beast, slouching towards her. The tables have turned, the hour come round at last. He is the predator now.

Her back hits the headboard.

Adamek hunches over Nazirah, knee between her legs, palms resting at her sides. They aren’t touching. Nazirah longs for him to close the gap, to kiss her. But she knows he won’t, not yet. Adamek will drag it out, torturing her, torturing him. That’s what they do. If he kisses her now, the game’s over.

With lips only centimeters from her neck, Adamek blows lightly. Chills bang along Nazirah’s spine, shooting to her toes and back. Every sense, every nerve is on fire. He kisses her jaw, leaving an upwards trail of sweet blisters. He bites her lobe, traces the curve with his tongue, sucking the soft spot behind her ear. He tugs her hair, a delicious sting that rocks her core. Nazirah arches her back restlessly underneath him, trying to deepen their contact. But he pulls away, just enough, smiling into her skin.

“Take your shirt off.”

His voice is hoarse, words calculated. He holds back, restraining himself. It’s harder for Nazirah this way, forcing her to be proactive. It makes her prove to him, to herself, how badly she really wants it.

And she does want it.

But Nazirah doesn’t live by anyone’s rules but her own.

She reaches between them, fingering the hem of her shirt as if timid, exposing her stomach. Nazirah’s free hand grips a rung in the headboard. If Adamek’s focus stayed on her face, he would notice the purpose there. But he’s distracted.

Her foot creeps up his leg, hooks at the knee. In an instant, he’s flipped onto his back. Nazirah straddles Adamek smugly. He props himself up on his forearms. She shakes her hair out, noticing his fixation on her chest. Slapping him lightly, Nazirah grabs his chin.

“It’s rude to stare, Morgen.”

He watches her with unadulterated lust. “I’ve never been very polite.”

Nazirah gently scrapes her nails vertically down his face. She traces the arch of his brows, the curve of his eyelids and the shape of his lips. He parts them slightly, taking her fingers into his mouth. He kisses her wrist as she removes them. She sucks his neck, alternating rough bites and kitten licks. Nazirah inches her body down as she goes. She grabs his collarbones, wanting to test how much they’ll give. He hisses slightly, moans, reaches out to touch her. She slaps his hand away, continuing to explore the flat plains, peaks, and valleys of his chest with her mouth. Nazirah can tell he’s getting frustrated, and she likes having that power over him. This is the revenge she chooses. And isn’t it sweet.

She kisses from navel to belt, blowing lightly where skin meets denim. He jerks slightly, clenching his fingers around the headboard’s rungs. Nazirah knows he’s using all of his willpower not to react. But this is a game, and she wants to win.

Nazirah returns to her original position, stretching languidly as she straddles his chest. Gathering her courage, she pulls her shirt off. She lets Adamek stare appreciatively for only a moment before laying the shirt over his face, plunging him into darkness. She pulls the cotton tight, biting his lip through the fabric. He moans, inhaling her scent, rolling his hips against hers. She bites again, sucking harder. When his hips grind a second time, Nazirah arches her back, preventing contact. He groans louder, breathing labored. She goes to do it once more, but Adamek has had enough.

He pulls the shirt off his face, simultaneously lifting Nazirah up and slamming her down backwards. He kisses up the slight concavity of her stomach, sending her body into wracked, stacked spasms. “Can’t handle your own game?” she asks, breathless.

“I can handle it,” he says, sucking the sensitive area where Nazirah’s throat meets clavicle. His hand snakes down, unbuttoning her jeans, slipping under the waistband. He lazily rubs his fingers in slow circles as she writhes beneath him. With his free hand, he pulls her hair back, whispers in her ear. “But why should you have all the fun?”

Adamek slowly removes his hand. Nazirah grabs his wrist, gasping. She pushes him into a sitting position, climbing onto his lap. She will not let him have the last word. “It’s simple, Morgen,” she says deliberately. “Just let me.” She takes each of his fingers into her mouth, sucking off the sticky sweetness.

Body tense, Adamek groans, “Fuck.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

His pupils are so dilated Nazirah can barely see the green anymore. He grabs her, lifts her, and flips her underneath him. He pulls off her jeans without further pretense, throwing them into a ball on the floor. Nazirah props up on her hands, entranced by the contrast of her smooth legs against his dark denim. She watches him watch her, watches his eyes roam, stopping at her throat. Adamek walks his fingers up her side, toys with the amnesty pendant. His eyes ask an unspoken question. Nazirah nods. She cranes her neck, allowing him to slip it off, over her head.

Tonight, they are not just Nazirah Nation and Adamek Morgen. They are more than that, less than that. Tonight, they are quite simply two teenagers living for the present. Yesterday is behind them. And who knows if tomorrow will come.

Adamek runs his hand up her slender calves, strong thighs, curved hips, and small waist. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times since we met,” he says huskily. “All the things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

“I can’t say it was quite the same for me,” she snaps, unbuckling his belt. She bites her lip, struggling to pull it through the loops.

“What changed?” he asks quietly.

She looks at him, belt forgotten. “I changed,” she says.

“You have,” Adamek agrees. He smiles wickedly, fingering her hair. “But you’re still that same girl on the swings. That headstrong girl I wanted all to myself.”

Nazirah pulls away, wrapping her arm around his neck. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she says. “Especially not you.”

She kisses him.

He lets her.

Their lips meet, crashing together for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. Everything suddenly becomes real. The surreal, torturous pace they teased with before is gone, replaced by hunger, by need.

She claws his back. He bites her lip. He deftly unclasps her bra, letting it fall away. He pulls back, taking in the sight of her, before kissing her again. Adamek runs the pads of his thumbs over her breasts then cups them in his hands, squeezing hard. Nazirah moans into his mouth, arching into him. Adamek breaks contact, kissing her chest.

He tears off her final vestige of clothing, pocketing her panties. She lies under him, painfully aware she is the vision of a blushing virgin. Nazirah wants to run away then, wants to put her hands over her face, cry, something. But she just continues burning a hole in the ceiling, trying to find that courage that seems to have vanished.

“Look at me.”

Adamek tugs her chin gently and she sighs. “What?”

“Don’t you understand what you do to me?” he asks, touching her cheek. “You don’t even realize.” He kisses her then, a deep, shattering kiss that makes her less afraid. That makes her not afraid at all. Nazirah smiles playfully, unbuttoning his pants. She pulls the zipper down.

Adamek stares at her fingers, lids half shut, as Nazirah shyly snakes a hand inside his jeans. He groans before catching her wrist and pulling it away. She looks at him curiously. “Next time princess, I promise.” Adamek crosses both of Nazirah’s hands over her head. He takes his time, worshipping her with his mouth, kissing every inch of her trembling body. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he lies over her, propped up on his forearms. Their limbs entwined, eyes locked, Nazirah sees the fear on his face, hesitation clear.

“Tell me this is wrong,” he begs.

“It’s not.”

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

And to show him she really means it, Nazirah takes his hand in hers. She purposefully kisses each knuckle, callous, and bruise. She kisses the back, kisses the scratches, making sure that he knows … that he understands.

She wants to be with him, as he is.

Adamek looks at her, humbled. Nazirah watches the transformation of his face. She sees the hesitation evaporate … change to determination … to intention. He kisses her one last time. It is passionate and lingering and sure. “Bite my shoulder,” he says.

She does, hard.

He rips through her.

She screams into his skin.

He stays there, motionless, muscles tense. He kisses her tears until it doesn’t hurt anymore, until the pain falls away. Nazirah won’t realize until later that the armor she has worn for so long has fallen with it, gone to pieces with their clothes on the floor.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nazirah awakens a few hours later with the rising dawn, blinking back dreams. Sitting up slowly, she hugs the bed sheet to her chest. Her muscles scream and she aches everywhere. She scans the disorderly room. Shards of glass and discarded clothes litter the floor. Adamek sleeps beside her on his stomach, arm under head, breathing steady. Her eyes trace his silhouette – across broad shoulders, over the blades of his back, down the dusza and lower, where sheets tangle around legs. Nazirah stares at his face, so innocent in sleep, and she waits. She waits and waits and waits for the regret to come.

It doesn’t.

Nazirah dangles her legs over the side of the bed, trying not to wake him. She picks her bra off a wayward pillow and hooks it on, followed by the amnesty pendant. She scans the floor for her panties, only to remember they now reside in Adamek’s pocket. Blushing furiously, Nazirah pulls on her jeans and shirt.

And still the regret stays away.

She rises, wincing as the mattress creaks and moans. A hand catches her wrist, stopping her, pulling her back. She turns around. Adamek is propped up on his elbow, watching her. His hair is mussed, but his eyes are sharp. She should have known he could never sleep through her clumsy, morning-after fumbling.

Nazirah coughs awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Thanks for the sex? Sorry I tried to kill you? Off to war we go? She sticks with what she knows.

“Hey.”

Hey?

Nazirah casts her eyes upwards in exasperation. She can practically feel his smirk. “Hey,” he replies.

“I was just going to, um, shower before the meeting.”

Adamek weaves his fingers through hers, dragging her body over his. “You can shower here,” he says.

“You’re naked,” she mumbles.

“I am?”

“Shut up.” She laughs, stretches, rubbing her feet into his calves. He holds her waist, his large hand spanning her back. “My clothes are in my room.”

“You can wear mine.”

“Aldrik would just love that,” she says, rolling her eyes. Nazirah notices her bite mark on his left shoulder, above the bandage, still tender. “Is that from me?” she asks, embarrassed.

“It truly is a lucky arm now,” he whispers. “Stay with me.”

“You’re making it so hard,” she sighs.

He grins, pulling her hand under the sheets, way below his navel. Nazirah flushes scarlet. “That’s kind of the point,” he says.

“I have to go.”

She kisses his forehead chastely, his cheek, his other cheek, the corner of his mouth. He pulls her chin, not so chaste anymore, meeting her full on the lips. Kissing Adamek in the light of day, when Nazirah can’t blame it on the night, is perfect. It’s decadent and indulgent. Nazirah smiles into his lips and he smiles back.

“See you later, Nation.”

Nazirah slowly untangles herself, finally rising from the bed. She grabs her dagger from the floor and picks up her shoes. She turns around before leaving, flashing Adamek an adorable grin. “See you later, Morgen.”

She won’t.

But they don’t know that yet.

Outside his door, Nazirah laces her boots, sticking the dagger in one of them. It’s still relatively dark outside, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. She walks across the hanging bridges towards her room, taking her time, smiling against her better judgment. Nazirah doesn’t know what to make of last night, of them, of it all. But, regardless of sore muscles, she feels good. Like life is somehow a little brighter than it was yesterday. She has changed.

Only God knows if it’s for the better.

Whistling idly, Nazirah enters her room. She stops, song dying abruptly on her lips. Ramses sits on her bed, entirely disfigured but entirely too well. “Don’t stop on my account, Nazirah,” he jeers, holding an assault rifle in his bandaged hands. “You know how I love music.”

The door is kicked shut. Nazirah whirls around as the butt of a pistol cracks down on her skull. She collapses to the ground. The last thing she sees before losing consciousness is Mather Grum standing over her smugly.

“Say hello to your fucking enemy.”

#

Nazirah slowly regains consciousness, holding on desperately to blissful oblivion. Like none of it’s really happening. Like she’s still safe in a green-eyed embrace. Her body has other plans. It snatches ephemeral feelings from the atmosphere, making them real.

First pain.

Then panic.

Nazirah awakens fully to find she’s slumped against a vibrating wall. Holding a hand to her blood-caked, throbbing head, Nazirah looks around groggily, fighting to stay calm. She’s moving, trapped inside a freight train compartment, surrounded by piles of lumber. Nazirah cannot see outside, but she feels wheels grinding beneath her and the distinct rumble of the train lurching forward. One of her hands is handcuffed to a metal pole which runs vertically floor to ceiling. Nazirah bangs on the pole, contorting her hand, struggling to free herself. She grabs the dagger from her boot, grateful neither Ramses nor Grum noticed it, trying in vain to pick the lock.

“Help!” she screams, rattling her handcuffs. “Somebody!”

Her voice sounds flat, strangled, absorbed into the wood.

“It’s useless,” a voice says to her left. Nazirah turns her head, seeing Lumi and Taj bound by twine around a wooden pillar several feet away. Lumi has a black eye and a split lip. Taj’s face is swollen, one of his arms perversely bent.

“What’s happening?” Nazirah cries.

“We don’t know,” Taj gasps. “We were walking back from the bonfire last night when Grum attacked us, with another guy. We couldn’t fight them off! We’ve been trapped here all night.” He struggles to stave off the pain of his broken arm. “They dragged you in a few hours ago, and then the train started moving.”

“That other guy is Ramses,” Nazirah says, trying to formulate some sort of escape plan. “He’s the one who tried to kill me.”

“Apparently he’s not done trying.”

Nazirah ignores Lumi. Even in the direst situation, she could still be gratingly annoying.

“He really hates you, Nazirah,” Taj wheezes. “You should have heard him before.”

“I can imagine,” she says, banging her handcuffs again.

“He wants to bring you down,” Lumi continues, “and Adamek too. Ramses is helping the Medis at the expense of his entire territory! He’s completely deranged, doped up on every kind of MEDIcine out there. I don’t know how he can even stand with half of his face caved in like that!”

Nazirah shudders, just thinking about it. “Grum is an informer?” she asks. She doesn’t want to believe it, but the pounding in her head reminds her it’s true.

“He’s been a narc all along,” Taj says, coughing. He kicks the ground angrily. “All our work with the loggers, all the good we thought we were doing … for nothing! The Medis knew from the start! They were just biding their time!”

“Biding their time for what?”

“For you, you stupid idiot!” screams Lumi, struggling against the ropes. Ravines of splinters and scratches line her arms while tears streak her blotchy face, the evidence of countless hours of failed escape attempts.

“Me?” she asks. “But why go through all this trouble? The campaign is almost over! The Medis are already attacking us!”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” asks Taj. “Irri, you’re the face of the rebellion, whether you accept it or not. People rally around you! Intermix and native, you give them a reason to fight, a reason to hope.”

“But I haven’t done anything!”

“You’ve done enough to warrant your public execution tomorrow,” Taj says.

“Just think of how the rebels will honor your memory,” Lumi adds dryly.

“What is your problem, Lumi?” Nazirah yells. “I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen!”

“Of course you didn’t!” Lumi shouts, equally angry. “But they kidnapped us last night to get information about you! Grum drugged Aldrik at the pub to get to you! They waited in your room, all night! And didn’t you keep them waiting.”

“Lumi, stop.”

“I won’t stop, Taj! How long have you been fucking Adamek, Nazirah?”

“Shut up right now,” Nazirah hisses.

“I won’t shut up!” Lumi yells, panicking. “We knew something was going on with you two yesterday, even though you lied through your teeth! But I was so right about you! You’re a complete hypocrite, judging me when you do the exact same thing! At least I was honest!” Her blue eyes are terrified. “You realize we’re going to die, Nazirah! Taj and I are going to die! And it’s all because of you!”

“We’re getting out of here, Lumi!” Nazirah cries. “I promise.”

“Fuck your promises!”

“Lumi, enough!” snaps Taj, pale and exhausted.

But Nazirah fears Lumi is completely right. They are going to die. And it is her fault. “Where is this train headed?” she asks suddenly.

“Where do you think?” Lumi replies bitterly.

Nazirah sticks the dagger into her waistband, stumbling to her knees even though her body tells her to quit. She drags the handcuffs up the metal pole so she can stand, clutching it for support. The vibrating wall, Nazirah now recognizes to be a sliding freight door. She grasps the handle, fingers slipping, and pulls hard. The door slides only marginally. Using all her strength, Nazirah kicks the door open further. The wind whistles through the compartment, whipping her hair as she observes the foreign landscape outside … flashing lights, acrid stench, hanging smog, looming skytowers in the distance.

“Mediah,” Nazirah whispers, eyes wide. She turns to them, trying to be heard over the roaring wind. “These freight trains carry resources into the capital!” she shouts. “They need to run in the opposite direction as well, right?”

“Your point?”

“We can hop on a train going south!” Nazirah replies. “Warn everyone about Grum! Who knows what information he gave Gabirel? The Medis must be planning a major attack on headquarters! Ivan’s forces are just a diversion!”

“Oh sure!” yells Lumi. “Just hop on a train! Never mind the Medi guards, or that we don’t know where these trains are, or that we are all tied up!”

“Can you think of a better idea?” Nazirah snaps. “I’m all ears!”

The train enters a tunnel, traveling beneath the bedrock of the acid moat surrounding the capital. Nazirah hears loud footsteps in the next compartment. A second later, Ramses slides the connecting door open. He walks inside, tapping his assault rifle casually against his leg.

Now that she isn’t so shocked to see him, Nazirah fully takes in Ramses’ mangled appearance. He is somehow standing, even with an exaggerated limp and hunched back. Both of his arms are heavily bandaged. But it is his face that is truly grisly. His cheekbones are still smashed, nose shattered and collapsed. He is nearly unrecognizable. But Nazirah would recognize him instantly. It is those sadistic, inhumane eyes. The eyes of the father, reincarnated in the son.

“Trying to escape, Nazirah?” he wheezes, standing before her. If only he would come a little closer, within range of her dagger. “I hope my appearance didn’t startle you too badly. I’m afraid we are both looking worse for wear.” He sneers. “The Medis ensured my survival. But they found it amusing to leave my face like this … a little reminder of who I am and whom I serve.”

“How could you do this?” she asks. “Help Gabirel? Betray your people? For what?”

“For honor!” he spits. “For my father! To once and for all wipe the patronizing smirk off Adamek Morgen’s face! He has disgraced my bloodline for long enough.”

“You are the disgrace!” Nazirah screams. “Your father would be ashamed of you! There is nothing honorable about you!” She laughs. “You’re not half the man he is!”

“My father allowed himself to be killed by a Medi, as did his father before him,” Ramses growls, taking a step closer. “He may have disfigured me, but I will kill that Medi and everything he holds dear. And you dare say I am not half the man of my father?”

“I wasn’t talking about the Khan.”

Ramses aims the rifle at Nazirah’s head. “Take it back,” he snarls.

“Pull the trigger,” she says boldly, calling his bluff. “I dare you!” The train begins to slow, groaning on its brakes. Ramses gets an unsettling, malicious look. Nazirah realizes a second too late what he plans to do. “No!” she screams. Ramses pivots, taking a precise shot. The bullet slices the air, colliding with hair, scalp, bone, and finally organ. Taj slumps forward, his skull shrapnel, brain pulp.

“Taj!” Lumi gags as brains and blood spurt across her face … remnants of the voice of reason, of the kind boy who loved to kick a ball around.

“I warned you.” Ramses faces Lumi. “Sorry, love,” he says, “but there’s really no use for you, either.”

Lumi’s eyes bulge as Ramses aims the rifle once more. Nazirah’s instincts kick in. She grabs the metal pole with both hands, vaulting herself upwards and wrapping her legs around his neck, effectively pulling and strangling him. He takes several shots but misses, shattering the wooden pillar Lumi is bound to, bullets ricocheting off the compartment walls. Lumi shrieks, frantically pulling off the twine. Ramses wrests himself free of Nazirah’s grip, points the rifle at Lumi. She cowers before him, frozen.

He is close enough now.

Nazirah doesn’t think twice as she reaches for the dagger. She has failed her parents, Aneira, now Taj. Nazirah will not fail again. She lunges forward, screaming, slitting his throat in one satisfying, electrifying motion. His eyes roll backwards, whites showing. Blood spurts in pulses from his neck. Ramses collapses onto the floor, rifle clattering out the open door and onto the tracks below. He convulses for a moment, gurgling. And then he is quiet.