I wasn’t afraid of Camile. In fact, the worst thing I could possibly do was to show she and her spawns fear. Not that I had a clue what perceived slight I’d committed against her.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I said holding her gaze. “Now take your fucking hand off me.”
She dropped my elbow and I spared her not a second thought. I crossed the foyer to where Papa, Ash and Bash were standing around talking. The detachable train of my vintage tuxedo-satin dress, embellished with gold embroidery trailing behind me.

“Papa,” I greeted, stealing another glance at myself in the mirror behind the men.
I ran a hand down the front of my A-line dress, fussing with the black and gold lace appliques at the cinched waist. Butterflies stirred at the pit of my stomach. Aunt Morana’s earlier warning sprung to mind and I fussed even more with my appearance. Tugging at my three-quarter sleeves and shirt-style collar as I leaned in to inspect my lightly made-up face.
My skin was dewy and glowing, my hair straightened and pulled back into a bun. Really, nothing was out of place.
“You look beautiful.” Papa admired.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Pretty.” Bash winked at me.

I bit back on a smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He flashed one of his lopsided grins at me that never failed to send my heart skipping a beat.
Papa took my hand, dragging my attention off Bash. “Here.” He presented me with a jewelry box.
“What’s this?”

“A gift.” He popped the gilded blue box open.
“Oh, wow,” my eyes widened at the full set. “This is...my goodness,” I breathed out, lost for words.
He nodded. “I’m glad you like it.”
Originally, my stylist had picked out a thin gold watch, a diamond chocker and matching earrings to go with the dress.
I stood facing the mirror, grinning like a girl who’d won the lottery as Papa replaced the constellation of crystal pearls at my ears with a pair of show-stopping chandelier earrings.
You should see this thing, whew, it boasted a sparkling mix of pear-shaped and round diamonds, their brilliance danced on my skin. With practiced ease he removed the choker next and placed about my neck a bold diamond pendant necklace.
The breath I was holding as he fastened the clasp, fell off my lips on a gasp. The necklace alone, would have been enough.
I was floating as he took my hand and added the matching bracelet to my free wrist then slipped a diamond and ruby ring, similar to the one on his pinky, onto my index finger. The ring cemented my place in the family, as everyone wore a version of it.
Stepping back, he waited for me to admire myself in the mirror. Cheesing, big time, I turned to face him, feeling like a princess.
“I love it. Thank you, Papa Knight.” I spun around, threw my arms around his neck as I reached up on my toes and kissed his cheek.
A smile brighter than the sun lit his face. It was the same smile he wore introducing me to the host, Avery Rush. Rush was a wiry male with sharp brown eyes and a ready smile. A charmer, this one and incidentally, not a member of the six families.
He wore a deep charcoal-grey suit and his short hair slicked back from his boyish face, gleamed like raven’s wings caught in moonlight. The bright pink silk scarf tied at his throat added a touch of colour to the look and spoke volumes about the man’s affable personality.
My spirit took to him instantly.
Eyes twinkling with mischief he took my offered hand and with a dip of his head pecked the back of it. “Charmed.”
“Likewise,” I replied with a little dip of the knee.
Check your girl out, being all demure and shit. When in Rome, do as the Roman’s do right?
Granted most everyone was waiting for me to show my ass. Here’s what they didn’t know, while admittedly I was crass and unsophisticated, I was also a damn chameleon. Give me an audience, and I’d be like a fish taking to water. I was born to be the main character, baby.
The Rush’s foyer wasn’t half as big or as modern as the one back at the mansion. The entire estate had an old, English country house feel. The front doors opened to a high, timber-beamed ceiling that stretched the length of the foyer. Light from a wrought-iron chandelier spilled over polished oak floors, catching the gleam of brass sconces and framed mirrors lining the walls.
The air was moderate, most likely temperature controlled, carrying a faint trace of wine and perfume. To my left, tall windows framed the night, their panes glinting like black glass. Beyond them, the reflection of lamps from the drive flickered faintly.
Pockets of guests gathered in small alcoves on the periphery of the entrance hall, murmuring in low voices, their laughter rising above the hush as names were announced. Others stood near the base of the sweeping staircase, their shadows long under the golden light.
Our entire family moved as one away from the entrance, nodding at the other guests as we ventured deeper into the house, drawn like the others to the pulse of music, the steady rhythm of strings and low brass drifting from the ballroom, each note spilling into the open foyer.
Papa Knight halted my steps with a touch of his hand to the small of my back, preventing me from following the rest of the family through the archway entering the ballroom.
Plucking two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter he handed one to me and the other to his wife. She drifted along by his side as he led me across the hall. I threw a glance over my shoulder. My stomach soured, seeing Calista on Bash’s arm. The two of them were popular and were quickly enveloped by a group of young people excited to see them.
I turned my head forward only to find Camile staring at me. Damn it. The smile curling her thin fucking lips, added to the glint of triumph in her eyes, pissed me off. To calm down, I reminded myself I’d had that boy lapping at my pussy a night ago and I would have him doing the same and much more before this night was over.
I blew the bitch a kiss and trained my gaze straight ahead.
The receiving room opened wide, alive with sound and soft light. A troupe of pantomime performed near the far wall to a packed room. Their expressive story-telling a backdrop to the steady hum of conversation and soft music blending with the muted clink of glass and quiet laughter. Wait staff moved through the room in practiced silence, clearing away empty flutes and offering trays of refreshments and bite-sized pastries.
“Hakon, who is this lovely creature?” asked the short East Asian woman with dark-moonshine eyes and a severe overbite, who came to stand beside us.
This must be the head of the Sato family, Iseul Sato. The gold claw pendant pinned to her chest, matched the one on Papa Knight’s lapel. It was the same representation for every other head.
“Iseul,” My father confirmed, acknowledging the pale woman with a raised brow. “I was under the impression you’d miss tonight’s festivities.”
“Mhm,” Iseul hummed meeting my gaze. “And miss the opportunity to meet the bell of the ball? Not a chance. Where have you been hiding her?”
We were literally standing eye to eye.  But Iseul might as well have been a giant. The woman carried herself like a celebrated general, exuding calm strength in a light blue floor-sweeping gown.
“He has two daughters.” Camile chuckled, while managing to look down the bridge of her nose at the other woman.
“Ladies, let’s leave the politicking for another night. Iseul.” Bowing his head, Papa wished her a good night and turned from the room.
He led me away, both Camile and I hanging off his arms.
“I want in Hakan.” Iseul’s voice trailed after us. “Name your price, my Qian would be an asset and a fine match.”
We hardly made it two steps before we were intercepted, this time by a blonde couple. Anton and Katrina Belov looked more like siblings than man and wife. Their blue-moonshine eyes appraised me with open interest. The man wearing a purple brocade suit-jacket, and the familiar claw pin, spoke to Papa Knight in thick Russian. As much as I didn’t understand a single word he said, I had no doubt they were talking about me.
Bitch, you’d think I was royalty the way everyone fawned over me. Problem, Papa Knight kept me tucked under his wing all night. So as much as I wanted to sneak off with Bash, I couldn’t. And boy did the fucker look delicious in his fitted black suit worn over a deep red dress-shirt. It burned me deeply, forced to watch Calista parade him around, draped off his arm like they were an item.
Every now and then, I’d catch him stealing glimpses my way. I pretended not to notice.
The champagne was flowing, the music, a nice waltz, had me swaying as I people watched. An hour later, there was I was, standing next to Papa Knight admiring a wall of abstract painting.
His witch of a wife had wandered off the moment it was polite to do so. She hated my guts. The whole ride over, she stared at my neck, her faced crunched up in distaste, as if I’d stolen the necklace from her personal collection.
Normally, I’d have baited her. But like I said, Camile and her spawns were entertainment, nothing so significant that I’d let them ruin one of the most magical nights of my life.
Speaking of magical, Olida flitted through the party, wearing the hell out of her spaghetti-strap mini dress with a feathered hemline. For the occasion she’d chosen a red wig, cut short with a side-swept bang and lightly tapered ends to give it an airy feathered look. The style fit her thin face, softening the angles of her sharp features. As she wove through the crowd eyes followed and voices lowered in whispers.
I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing, just that it didn’t sit well with me. The need to protect her surged unexpected and without noticing I began to tap my foot, getting agitated. 
The girl was a sweetheart, the out of my new family who embraced me, when the others had taken as stance to keep their distance at first. She was overly chatty, at least with me, but I sensed she’d been sheltered her whole life. My Papa was very protective of her, treated her more like his child than sibling. In a way I understood, she was decades younger than all of them.
There were a few times I’d glimpsed her spying on me from behind the heavy drapes dressing her balcony window while I walked the garden or swam. She always declined when I invited her, until one day, perhaps sensing she’d hurt my feeling rejecting my offer for the umpteenth time, she confided in me she had a condition that made her highly allergic to the sun.
Of course, I felt like shit for all the times I pestered her to go out with me. To make it up to her I’d often seek her out during the evenings, taking her along with me and Alana on our nightly walks.
Papa and I were standing by the arched entranced to the ballroom. “I’m going to go hang with Aunty Olida, for a bit.” I whispered in his ear.
She was halfway down the hall heading toward the foyer when she stopped abruptly, turned and looked in our direction. An expression I couldn’t place flitted over her face before it vanished.
A smile replaced the odd look as she raised a finger and signalled to one of the waiters floating around the entrance with platters heavy with finger foods and cocktails. She accepted one of the small plates and cut a path toward us.
“Hungry?” she asked once she was standing before me, raising the plate for me to take it.
I never go anywhere on an empty stomach. Besides mum would roll over in her grave if I’d left home without eating. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was full, but I’d nibbled on fruits and pastries in the hours leading up to getting ready that I could go the rest of the night without eating and not feel the need to chew an arm off.
Nevertheless, I took the offering and thanked her. “You read my mind.” I lied eyeing the colourful plate.
I recognized nothing on it. Everything was…petite. Eating it would most likely open my appetite and leave me unsated.
As she waited, looking up at me with expectant eyes, I realized she wanted me to eat. Ah fuck, I didn’t want to.
“Do you want to dance?”
Her eyes widened.
Papa Knight and I had made our rounds throughout the various rooms. I got the sense, he wanted the families to see us, understand my importance to him. Turned out Papa was a big damn deal, and while my presence was fresh fodder for the gossip mill. For the most part, people just wanted to be seen with him, hear his opinion on one thing or another, or brag in hopes of gaining his approval. Damn, we barely had time to appreciate the art works on display, caught up in small talk.
Though we did sit for a good fifteen minutes to enjoy a minstrel act with the Hales. Anise and her husband Dimitrius were two of the most magnetic people I’ve ever met. They were from Jamaican and Nigerian ancestry, and both wore the claws. The entire family was statuesque, and regal in white. First son Tayo couldn’t keep his eyes off me. I would know because I’d been following him with my own eyes. Fucker walked like a lion, tall and proud, as if he had a big dick and it weighed a ton. He had a twin sister, and four younger brothers. All of them were disgustingly beautiful.
The one place Papa and I hadn’t ventured was the ball room, which was why I suggested taking Olida for a spin on the dance floor.
Unfortunately, we never got that far into the evening. The front doors slammed open, and three hooded women dressed in fitted black cloaks walked through. Their faces were covered save for their glowing eyes.
Olida pushed me behind her with surprising ease. I didn’t even have time to be stunned by her actions.
A round of gasps spread through the hall as those close by turned to the entrance. Many of the guests scattered, scurrying to get away from the three women.
The sound of rushing feet filled the hall behind me. I didn’t look to see who they were, or why suddenly multiple gusts of wind, swept past.
Or rather than emptying, the entryway grew more crowded by the second. These men and women bearing the colours of the families flanked the foyer, soldiers ready to defend against the intruders.
The newcomers had my full attention. The woman in the middle with glowing green eyes and tallest of the three walked slightly ahead of the others, rotating her hands over each other—one clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. Between her palms, electrical-blue light sparked to life, growing until she held a grapefruit-sized ball of energy hovering on the air between her hands.
“The Trine,” someone whispered.
Those two words ignited a spark; image flooded my mind.
And from the depths of my subconscious the word ‘enemy’ floated up.
A shiver ran through me.
The mind is a funny thing, and if you’re careful, it’ll play tricks on you. With the right conviction, it can turn delusions into reality, or with a single word, trigger a memory and give you a whole new understanding of what you thought you knew.
For me it was these two words: The Trine.
I was nine again. Mum and I had gone to visit an old friend. I didn’t know the woman, but mum said she would be able to help me, stop the beast from coming out.
Beast, this was what she called the thing inside me that kept getting me in trouble. Some nights I’d hear her crying, begging God to take it from me. Many times, I tried to tell her it wasn’t bad, my beast made me stronger. Mum would pull me in her arms and kiss me, promising she’d make it better, all the while blaming herself.
“Greet the trees, baby,” mum said as she turned off the road onto a dirt trail barred by an iron gate tangled in vines.
I was a big girl sitting up front, hair slicked into two pigtails and wearing my favourite yellow dress, because it had ruffled scalloped-sleeves and pretty flowers on the skirt that matched the belt mum tied into a perfect bow at the small of my back. I’d always been a girly-girl, and you better believe I had the shoe and handbag to match.
Thinking nothing of what mum said, I waved up at the trees and greeted them. If anything, I whole-heartedly believed the trees understood me and I was in awe as the limbs on the trees lining the trail seemed to bow in welcome.
“Thank goodness,” mum sighed in relief as the iron-bar crowded with vines swung open.
“Mommy they’re whispering. They’re telling the big one my name, look mommy.” I pointed with excitement at the large tree at the mouth of the yard, its leaves were rustling fiercely.
I stuck my hand out the window, I don’t know what propelled me to do so. A young branch on the great tree dipped, brushing against my fingers. It left a tingling sensation that stayed with me for days.
The old house mum parked before was straight out of a fairytale, I was eager to get out of the car and explore. Fairy lights lined the porch peeking out from the green curtain of Ivy climbing the columns and railings. Wind chimes sang and danced in the soft breeze, fluttering the hem of my dress around my knees as I ran over to the flowerbed and picked up a painted stone. There were so many to choose from, but I liked the dragon.
“Hollis, come.” Mom called after me.
Aunty Cassandra was not my aunt. Mum said it showed respect to address her as if she were. So, this was how I greeted the plump bare-footed woman who stepped through the door with feathers in her long brown hair and beads hanging off her neck and wrists.
We entered her home, smelling of warm pies and the sweet fragrance of burning candles. A fat racoon sat by the foot of a chair under the table in the kitchen. It stared back at me across the living room where I stood by the entrance, rubbing my thumb over the cool dragon stone closed in my small fist.
Tearing my gaze away from the curious animal, my eyes strayed to the nook of books to my right. There was a padded bench running the length of the window, covered in daisies. Shafts of sunrays pouring through the white curtains, fluttering in the wind, hit the bench at the perfect angle, and I swear it was a siren’s call to my younger self.
I hung back, watched mum followed Aunty Cassandra to the kitchen. Silently, I inched towards the bench. As I walked past a shelf, a book jumped out, landing at my feet. I giggled sure the house itself was alive and bent to pick up the dull looking brown book. Hugging it to my chest I climbed up onto the bench and flipped it open.
My mouth fell open in awe, as the words shifted into images racing across the pages.
“…You’re my only hope.” I caught mum saying.
Looking up from the book I realized the adults were speaking about something serious.
Adult talk was often boring; however, I recognized the signs when my mum’s worried. When she’s worried about me.
“The Trine will come for her.” Mum pleaded with Aunty Cassandra. “Please, help her.”
“Do you know what they’ll do to me, if they find out I had a hand in what you’re asking?”
“Nothing compared to what they’ll do to her, if they find out what she is, Cassandra.”
My heart raced, terrified ‘they’ would show up at the door any second and take me away from mum. My eyes pricked with tears, as I secretly watched the two women seated around the kitchen table sip their tea and talk.
“You never should have slept with that devil.”
I frowned at that. Mum didn’t have a boyfriend; she loved Papa too much even though he was in heaven watching over us.
“I didn’t know.” Mum looked away in shame. Her dark eyes filled with worry swept over where I’d been sitting and I quickly looked away. Hoping she hadn’t caught me eavesdropping. “I didn’t see it,” she said solemnly, staring at me.
“You’ve lost your way child,” Aunt Cassandra spat. “A pity, as it seems you may very well have awakened the prophecy.”
Mum’s gaze snapped back to the woman. “She’s just a child.”
“She’s death.”
Mum’s hands curled into fists on the table. Lips trembling, she shook her head, and it was like she couldn’t bring herself to speak or she would cry.
My heart hammered in my chest. Something about what Aunt Cassandra said, made my skin feel tight, like I’d grown too big to fit inside my own body. I didn’t like the sensation, the urge to break free was only superseded by mum’s voice at the back of my head, telling me to be on my best behaviour.
So, I sat as still as I could, the book laid face down across my lap, my entire focus on the dragon stone I kept rubbing. Fascinated by the cool stone, the life-like yellow eyes staring back at me.
I’m a good girl. I’m not death.
“I am Rene’s daughter.” I silently repeated, the affirmation mum had me saying every morning before the mirror. “Granddaughter of Ophelia, sister of the wind, friend to the trees. I am made of the earth, sun and water. I am not death. My name is Hollis, and I am love.”
I said this, believing the words until my skin no longer stretched thin, I no longer feared the lie because I was the daughter of Rene Emery, Daughter of the Frist Coven, and light was on my side.
“Why not go to your sisters?”
Mum straightened, her brown eyes turned to stone as she stared the woman down. No longer a desperate woman crying for her child, she was the very vision of a mother who would die before she let anything happen to me.
“Dawnscar has lost its way, they’ve become decadent. You know what they’ll do if they get their hands on her.”
“Yes, in their hands she’d be a weapon.”
“I won’t let them harm her. She’s innocent.”
“But for how long?”
“Then help me. Shield her and no one will know, not him, not them. No one.”
The woman looked at mum for a long time and then turned her pitch-black eyes on me. “Very well.”
I gasped, pulling out of the memory. The smell of baked pie and tea leaves vanished replaced by expensive cologne.
The world tilted, I reached out and caught air. My feet tangled and my knees buckled. A strong arm wrapped around my waist, caught me before I crumbled to the floor.
“Got you.” I looked up over my shoulder at Bash. “You, okay?” he asked, brows bunched in concern.
No, I wasn’t, yet I couldn’t convey that to him without explaining why. I’d unwittingly stumbled into a world of vampires, witches and whatever else there was out there. A world my dumbass had spent the past several years blissfully ignorant of, because mum had made damned sure of it.
But you know this. You hexed me, clouded my eyes to the truth.
“Stand down,” the woman in the middle spoke, pulling her hands apart as the fiery ball between her palms stretched and broke into two halves–each for one hand.
My head snapped around, heart beating out of my chest. The Trine was there for me. I knew it, though I wasn’t sure if anyone else had caught onto the fact.
As I looked around, I realized the dinner party had turned into a standstill. Men and women from each house stood guard, guns drawn, swords out.
It was fucking insane. Seriously, it was as if I was standing in the middle of a B-rated gangster movie, save these weren’t regular gangsters. Fuck, half of them weren’t even human.
“Esme.” Papa Knight greeted the woman in the middle before shifting his gaze to the woman on her right.
Her eyes glowed orange. “Ethine,” he said in brief acknowledgement as he turned to the last, the red-eyed one and shortest of the three standing on the left. “Eren. Why are you here?”
“We are the Trine, we go where we please,” said Ethine.
“This is a private engagement,” Avery Rush said, stepping forward. His face lit with a smile, and arms out as if that’ll defuse the situation. “How can I be of help to the Maidens of the Trine.”
“Nightwalker.” Esme the first, voice cut through the silence like the loud crack of a whip, her gaze fixed on Papa Knight. “You harbour the Unbound, the one without covenant.”
Papa Knight stepped forward, hands lodged in his pockets, cool as a fucking cumber as he approached the three deadly beings tasked to police the supernatural world.
Cassandra had explained this to me…no, I’m telling it wrong. She’d instilled the fear of the Trine in me, as she prepared the spell that would mask my essence from other supernaturals, supress my beast and block my eyes from the truth.
Above everything the Maidens of the Trine were responsible for; stopping the ‘prophecy’ from being fulfilled was paramount.
Why Papa didn’t fear them, I didn’t know at the time. However, I’d come to learn soon enough, of all the men in the world mum could have laid with, she quite literally went and fucked one of the baddest, most unhinged motherfuckers to ever lived.
I didn’t want him to leave me. Too scared to speak I took a step forward to follow. A firm hand on my arm held me in place, bringing my attention back to the man standing behind me. Bash shook his head, warning me against leaving his side.
For a second I stood stunned. Transfixed, I couldn’t stop staring at his transformation. Most prominent were the glowing red eyes staring down at me. He had four fangs, two thick ones at the top and two slender ones at the bottom, positioned where all his canines should’ve been. His right ear twitched, and it was then I noticed it had morphed, the top of it tapering to a point.
I took a stumbling step back, but again, he stopped me. Saying nothing, his gaze shifted, focusing on the front of the house, bringing my attention along with his.
“My good maidens.” Papa Knight stopped short, observing the host of black-clad men filing in behind the Trine, swords drawn.
The Maidens’ Blades looked like a brigade of ninjas, covered from head to toe in black, even the eye panel was dark mesh. This sacred order was sworn to serve, guard, and, when needed, kill for the cause.
Nodding, Papa Knight straightened to his full height. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be little more specific if I’m to catch your meaning.”
“We’re here for the girl.” Esme decreed.
“So many fear the Trine,” Papa Knight said, speaking in the same soft melodious tone, unbothered as he backed off his jacket. “Over the years, it seems that fear has gone to your heads. You’ve forgotten why you were created and by whom.”
“We warn you Nightwalker.” Ethine’s eyes now glowed green as she formed her ball of blue fire, while eyes shifted to orange as if they’d switched powers. “Thread carefully,” she warned.
I noticed, Esme the first postured a lot, Ethine the second issued weighted threats while Eren the third spoke none at all and was in my opinion the most threatening of the three.
Papa Knight chuckled. He held his jacket out and one of the greens, a soldier of house Bashir, rushed to take it. “No, Trine, it is you who have overstepped. You enter this sacred place, by whose authority, on the premise of what threat? And with quite the show.”
He wasn’t joking. To the Families, the Rush estate sat on sacred ground. It was the last battlefield the three races came to blows before the Pact was made. The Oaths spoken that night, centuries ago, became a living covenant now known as the Trine, sealed in their blood and carried through time by their successors.
“We need to go,” Bash whispered in my ear, backing me away from the imminent clusterfuck that was about to be unleashed. And I had every reason to believe my daddy was about to start it.
I see now, where I got my temper.
“The Pact of Three warns of the Prophecy—”
“A bedtime story made up by the lot of you to inflate your supposed usefulness, or lack thereof.”
“Suit yourself Nightwalker.” Esme nodded to her sisters.
Ethine waved her hand to the men standing behind them, and they began to fan out, taking up positions. Ready to act on the Trine’s command.
My daddy didn’t wait. I blinked and ten bodies fell without their heads.
Someone screamed and it took several seconds for me to realize, it was me. I couldn’t… it didn’t make sense what I was seeing. Papa Knight cut through their fucking ranks like a vengeful breeze, carrying the mark of death.
“Ohmygod,” I kept on repeating.
Shock rocked me, my whole body trembled. I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. My gaze, no matter how hard I tried not to look, kept going back to the headless bodies.
So much blood. So many discarded heads. I slapped a hand over my mouth about to be sick.
“Get the girl!” Esme ordered.
The silent one stepped forward, red eyes locked on me.
“Shit.” Bash pulled his gun and aimed it at the woman.
He fired, a rapid line of those odd liquid fire bullets that looked like it would burn through flesh and melt bones.
Eren’s eyes shifted to green as she raised a hand. The bullets splattered against an invisible shield, turned to smoke and evaporated.
“Whatever you do, don’t look back.” Bash grabbed my hand and started pulling me away from the fight and the entrance hall.
“Oh my god.” I did the one thing he told me not to do, and watched in horror my father, the man I kissed on the cheek, mere hours before, shoved his hand through a man’s chest, yanked his heart out and bit into it like it was a ripe peach.
“Oh my god.”
“What did I tell you?” Bash admonished, red eyes searching my face with concern written all over his face. “Damn, you’re in shock.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trembling from head to toe. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t stop being sorry, even when I didn’t know what the hell I was sorry for.
Five more men joined Bash, forming a barrier around us as we cut across the hall and dodged into the receiving room. They didn’t speak, and yet somehow, they moved as one, ushering me out of harm’s way as fast as my feet could take me. Every few steps I’m ducking or being pushed out of the of way in time to stop a sword from running me through.
The men surrounding us fired at targets rapidly closing in. I felt like a coward running away as we broke through a pair of doors into a small, enclosed garden.
Blades swarmed in after us.
Bash shoved me behind a huge planter. I tumbled, bruising my knees on the gravel. The air stirred around me. I looked up, and he’d leapt several feet—clearing a fountain and landing on the other side to join his men while firing at the enemy.
He moved like a dancer, light and graceful on his feet, in the few moments my eyes were fast enough to keep track of him. Half the time, he and his men were flashes of motion, cutting down the Blades’ numbers.
Not a word passed between them. They were a blur, shadows firing bullets, dodging swords that sliced through the air at mind-boggling speed. Still, he was faster, his aim true and deadly.
In a matter of seconds, he was by my side, pulling me to my feet, and we were on the move. We swept through another set of doors and broke into a run, racing down a long hall at full speed.
Where was Olida and the others, had they made it out or where they still inside, fighting for their lives?
“Where are we going?” I asked Bash.
“Too many ears listening, Pretty, best I don’t say.”
“Aunty Olida, she was with me and Papa.” I tried to explain.
It was as if my mind understood more than I did, it needed to focus on something other than the fear seeping into my bones or it would crack, forever.
“Don’t worry about O, she can take care of herself,” Bash said, steering me down yet another hall.
This one was more a narrow passage, used by the staff, evidenced by the low ceiling, stone floor and plain walls.
We were halfway down the passage, heading toward an old looking door. I needed to stop. The world began to spin. I braced a hand against the wall.
I didn’t know if it was the cloying smell of cleaning agents in the air or the nauseating images of dead bodies playing on a loop in my mind. But I couldn’t go any further.
Bash grabbed my chin in a firm grip and tilted my head, so I meet his red gaze. “Do you want to die?”
I shook my head, big fat tears slipping down my cheeks. “No.” I choaked back a sob. 
As I looked around, I saw for the first time of the men that had been with us, only two remained.
The realization broke me. A wretched sound burst from my chest. I tried to stop it, to catch my breath. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t stop. Chest heaving, tears flooding my eyes, I cried like a baby.
A door banged opened nearby, and there was no mistaking the fight was catching up to us.
“Fuck.” Bash palmed the back of my head and crashed his mouth over mine.
He kissed me until I was breathless. When he broke the kiss, it may be strange to believe, but it did the trick in shutting me up.
Chest rising with each breath, I stared up at him, mouth opening and closing trying to find my words. 
“Do you want to live?”
“Run.” He pointed a finger toward the old door as a handful of Blades burst through the doors we just passed through.
Behind them, the silent maiden.
“Pretty, run, and don’t you fucking look back.”
Of course it goes without saying, I ran. Like my life depended on it. Because guess what?
It fucking did.