8

Pray for forgiveness.

Prepare for punishment.

Khalani bucked against the unknown figure holding her hostage. The large knife pressed against her jugular, nicking her skin and drawing blood.

“Ah, ah,” the gruff voice behind her warned. “Move again, and I’ll slice your pretty neck wide open.”

Her breaths came in rapid, shallow gasps, and the rough palm over her mouth stifled her cries.

The crack of a loud gunshot abruptly shattered the night, echoing ominously around them. Her eyes darted, straining to make out shapes in the murky darkness.

She prayed with all her might that Takeshi was unharmed.

If anything happened to him…

Suddenly, a large body was flung over a car and collapsed in a crumpled heap at their feet.

“Varo?” the man holding her gasped. His grip on her momentarily loosened, just enough for her to act.

Khalani bit down on the hand covering her mouth. The man screamed as she tasted blood, loosening his hold.

Seizing the moment, she drove her elbow back into his gut.

Her captor choked out a ragged breath, staggering on his feet.

She lunged forward, desperate to escape, but he grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

Crack.

She swung her fist toward his jaw, and his head whipped to the side from the impact. Getting her first look at him, the strange man appeared to be in his fifties, with deeply tanned skin and a freshly shaven face.

But before she could take pride in the solid hit, he retaliated with a brutal backhand to her right cheekbone.

The force of the blow sent Khalani careening to the ground. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she scrambled to her feet, preparing for another strike. But the stranger suddenly screamed in agony as a blade pierced through his left shoulder.

He reached behind to yank out the knife hilt, but a larger figure launched forward and struck him viciously in the jaw.

She would know that large silhouette anywhere.

The stranger scrambled back, his eyes wide with fear. Takeshi’s expression, on the other hand, blazed with an almost palpable fury as he locked onto Khalani, immediately zeroing in on the mark on her face.

“He hit you?” Takeshi’s body froze, his voice dangerously calm, but his hands trembled.

Her pulse raced uncontrollably as words failed her, and she could only nod.

Takeshi’s breathing came out slow and heavy as he turned back to the wounded man struggling to his feet.

She could only see the back of Takeshi’s head, but the stranger’s face went pale at whatever expression stared back at him.

In a swift, violent motion, Takeshi hurled the disoriented man against the side of a rusted car like a ragdoll. The metal groaned on impact as the man collapsed to the ground.

Takeshi wrenched open the door with a loud creak and pulled the man’s arm up inside the vehicle. With the man’s arm still trapped inside, Takeshi slammed the car door onto the man’s elbow, pressing his full weight into it.

Khalani heard the sickening crack from where she stood, and a shiver ran through her at the man’s agonized scream.

Takeshi ripped the knife from his other shoulder as pitiful moans filled the air, but Takeshi ignored them, pressing the bloody blade against his throat, just like the man had done to her.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, swinging a heavy club.

Khalani screamed, “Watch out!”

But it was too late.

The club collided with Takeshi’s head in a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground next to the car, the knife clattering beside him.

“Takeshi!” Khalani’s cry pierced through the night.

She charged toward him, but a rough cloth was shoved over her mouth from behind. The acrid, chemical stench of the cloth filled her nostrils.

She thrashed against the firm grip encircling her, but her vision started wavering.

No.

Fight.

You have to…fight…

Everything dimmed and blurred.

The last thing she saw was the lingering, cold moon, continuing to stare and judge the violence of humanity, before her head smacked against the concrete and her vision went utterly black.

***

“Khalani.”

A static ringing invaded her ears.

Her limbs were numb. Every inch of her, even the messy hair flowing past her shoulders, felt heavy.

“Khalani.”

A light creaking noise.

A faint whisper permeating the oppressive fog.

Sensations slowly filtered back.

Her shoulders throbbed with pain, and she realized her hands were twisted and bound behind her with hard rope.

She had a hard time opening her eyes, as if her eyelids had been sewn shut. The pull of darkness beckoned her once more, offering an escape that seemed almost preferable.

Maybe if she faded with it, death would claim her and finally finish the job that should’ve been completed a long time ago.

Wake up.

Wake up.

“Wake up!”

Khalani jolted, her eyes shooting open as she heaved rapidly.

She realized she was seated on cold tiled floor, her legs stretched out in front of her, and her arms bound behind a rusty metal pole sticking out of the ground.

Serene, Derek, Adan, Takeshi, and Brock were similarly restrained, each tied to separate poles scattered throughout the empty space.

She glanced around the small, dim room, illuminated only by a single, flickering lightbulb hanging precariously from the ceiling. The weak light cast eerie shadows along the concrete walls.

Dread clawed inside her stomach when she saw a set of dark, rickety stairs that led upward to an unknown destination.

“You alright?” Serene’s voice was strained, breathless.

Khalani turned to her left, wincing from the sharp throb at her temple.

“Where the hell are we?” Her voice came out hoarse.

“I don’t know,” Serene replied, her blue hair matted to her forehead as she scanned the room with a frightened look. “All I remember is waking up to a gunshot, and then someone pressed a strange cloth over my face.”

Khalani swallowed, her nostrils flaring.

The air was thick with a musty, unpleasant odor. It seeped from the concrete walls and buried into her skin. The sharp fragrance of despair lingered on her tongue, as though the room was well-acquainted with the stench of death.

She glanced at the others. Derek and Adan sat to her right. Dark circles hung under Derek’s eyes, lips pulled tight as his gazes darted about the room, sharp fear etched into the lines of his face.

Adan was moving his shoulders back and forth, trying to maneuver his hands out of the rope.

Brock was bound to a pipe in the corner near the stairs, shifting his body in an attempt to free himself, but based on the jagged snarl playing across his lips, he wasn’t getting far either.

Takeshi sat directly across from her. Though similarly restrained, his posture radiated a dangerous calm. Like a monster stirring beneath water.

He obsessively studied every single inch of the room. The stairs. The poles they were tied to. The ropes.

And Winnie…

Utter terror sliced through Khalani’s chest as she frantically scanned the room.

“Where’s Winnie?” she nearly screamed.

“I saw them take her,” Derek’s voice trembled in the dark space. “We don’t know where she is.”

Khalani’s vision blackened, and the walls started to close in around her. She could see it now. Winnie’s dead body lying on a cold table right next to her parents.

No.

No.

No.

Khalani pulled harder on her bindings, desperately trying to break free.

She needed to find her. Needed to save her.

“This is your fault,” Brock seethed, viciously glaring at Takeshi. “You were supposed to be on watch!”

A vein pulsed at Takeshi’s temple.

Instead of a fire in his eyes, they were ice-cold, mirroring the frigid temperature in the room, as he remained silent, refusing to look in her direction.

The truth hit her.

If she hadn’t distracted Takeshi…

If she had just stayed next to Winnie.

The immediate slam of a door cut through her spiraling thoughts.

Heavy boots thudded against the creaking stairs, and they collectively held their breaths.

Three imposing figures descended the wooden steps. Two of them were men, both stocky and nearly as tall as Takeshi. They had dark hair tied up in buns and wore deep scowls as they glanced at Khalani and the others tied up on the floor, their lips twisting in disgust.

Their loose-fitting beige pants were adorned with geometric patterns and pockets up the sides. Tight tan shirts clung to their muscular frames, while long black cloaks trailed behind them.

In the center of the grim procession stood a smaller, leaner figure dressed in similar beige garb and a flowing maroon cape. It was a woman. She was strikingly beautiful, probably in her mid-thirties, with a heart-shaped pale face, high cheekbones, and red hair that rivaled a scorching fire.

But her green eyes…they were sharper than any blade Takeshi carried.

All three of the strange figures held themselves tall and proud as they halted in the middle of the floor, scrutinizing each of them carefully.

Khalani’s skin crawled, like she was about to be dissected.

“I expected better from Ansel,” the woman broke the silence, her harsh gaze sweeping over her bound captives.

Her focus lingered on Takeshi, who studied her right back with an intensity that made the two men stiffen, hands edging toward the blade handles sticking out of their pockets.

“I thought the Sinners had better spies, but clearly, we overestimated them. The moon goddess led us right to your camp. And now, it’s time for you to provide some answers.”

With disturbing calmness, the woman pulled a pistol from her pocket. The metallic click of the weapon reverberated through the dim room.

“I want to know the size of Ansel’s forces, the Sinners defenses, and any weaknesses in their walls. You’ll tell me now, or I’ll let Belken here slice you and eat the pieces,” she threatened, gesturing to one of the burly men beside her.

“Great. You’re all fucking crazy, too,” Brock grumbled, prompting one of the men to march over and deliver a brutal punch to his face. Brock’s head snapped back, but he only started laughing as blood streamed from his nose.

“Is that it? My mother hit harder.”

The man’s fist clenched, and he reached for his knife.

“Wait! Wait!” Khalani shouted. “We’re not who you think we are! We don’t know any Sinners or this Ansel person.”

The woman’s laughter was cold and mocking as she pivoted her attention to Khalani. “You’re quite amusing. There are only two tribes on this side of the river, the Desert Spring and the Sinners. We both know you’re not from the Desert Spring, so you must be with them.” She spat the last word, taking a deliberate step closer.

When the woman raised her gun, Takeshi snapped, “I strongly advise pointing that somewhere else.”

The woman paused, glancing over her shoulder. “And why is that?”

“Because if she gets another scratch, you’d need a much bigger gun to survive.” Takeshi’s chin lowered, his eyes filled with a dark promise of retribution.

The red-haired woman chuckled but Khalani noticed the renewed tension in the set of her small frame. “How touching. You are the only one I can see Ansel enlisting as a spy. Varo was one of my best soldiers. No one had ever beaten him in hand-to-hand combat, and you bested him easily.”

The accompanying silence made it difficult to breathe as Takeshi stared at the woman like he was biding his time to ensure she’d be greeted with the same deadly fate.

But even though Takeshi was strong, he was tied up like the rest of them, and their weapons were gone.

“You have to believe us.” Khalani’s voice rang across the dim room, trying to regain the woman’s attention. “We’re not from here. We came from Apollo, one of the underground cities. We’re trying to get to Hermes.”

At the mention of Hermes, the woman spun around, her eyes widening.

“Hermes?” she echoed with disbelief.

“Yes. Do you know it?” she asked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

The two men behind her shifted uncomfortably.

“Under-Dwellers,” one of them snarled.

The woman raised a hand for silence, her gaze narrowing.

“The Under-Dwellers never leave their precious bunkers.” She tilted her head. “How do you know the way?”

Khalani’s eyes instinctively slid to Brock. The woman followed her gaze and walked toward him with deliberate steps.

Brock silently watched her approach. Blood trickled from his nose and he licked it like an untamed animal.

“And who are you?” the woman asked.

“The one who’s going to kill you,” Brock replied calmly, his gaze simmering with vitriol.

“Do you know how many insignificant men have made the same threats to me, only to be gutted by the end of my blade?”

“Good. My favorite part will be slicing your ugly face before I do the same to you.”

The two men surged forward, but the woman held up a hand, stopping them. She waited a long minute and chuckled.

“Your confidence is impressively foolish given your position. I shall only ask one more time. How do you know the way to Hermes?”

Brock lifted his chin defiantly.

Heavy silence wrapped around them, tighter than the ropes biting into their wrists.

The woman regarded him for another moment before rising. “Pity. Let me see who I shall play with first.”

She glanced at Khalani and Takeshi, then slowly walked by Derek and Adan, drawing a sharp blade from inside her cloak.

Khalani shifted, her core tightening as the woman closely studied Brock’s reaction. He remained stoic, his face betraying nothing, but when she moved toward Serene, the air around him seemed to vibrate, the muscle in his neck jumping.

“You’re a pretty one,” the woman commented, her voice a delicate whisper.

She knelt, brushing a stray lock of hair from Serene’s face with the edge of her knife. “I do so hate having to destroy nice things.”

When she inched closer, Brock shouted, “Stop!”

His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes wide as he fixated on Serene, who sat with her back straight, a fire in her eyes that practically dared the woman to try carving her up.

Khalani could almost feel the woman’s cold, calculating smile as she stood and turned back to Brock, lovingly scraping her finger on the edge of the blade.

“I’m a Death-Zoner,” Brock hissed through his teeth. “I’ve traveled from Apollo to Hermes multiple times, transporting resources.”

“Really?” The woman stepped closer, a sharper interest in her tone. “What kind of resources?”

“Medicine. Food. Guns.”

The woman froze at the last word and both men stiffened, an unknown look passing between them.

Khalani discreetly wriggled her hands, trying to free herself from the bindings while they were distracted.

“He’s lying, Chief,” one of the men spat. “He’s probably the one supplying the Sinners with those weapons.”

“Or we can use them,” the other man suggested. “Integrate them into the Desert Spring. Make them supply us with more weapons instead. Take the advantage that way.”

“Too risky,” the man said. “I say we kill them all.”

The woman remained eerily silent as the men brazenly discussed their imminent murder.

Khalani’s gaze darted around the dimly lit room, desperately searching for any clue or glimmers of hope that might offer a way out.

Then, a bold idea sparked in her mind.

“What if we help each other?”

The woman scoffed, turning to Khalani. “What makes you think we need your help?”

“If it’s weapons that you’re looking for. We can help you,” she insisted.

The woman’s shoulders tensed, Khalani’s words striking a chord. But she folded her arms across her chest, her expression inscrutable. “We already have more guns now, courtesy of you.”

“Our ammunition will only last you so long.”

A heavy stillness filled the room, broken only by the erratic flicker of the overhead bulb. Every eye was fixed on Khalani and she forced herself to remain calm.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” the woman asked sharply.

“If you let us go,” Khalani gulped, “we’ll bring back the weapons you need from Hermes. But there’s something else. There was another woman with us. She was injured.” The pounding in her heart increased. “Where is she?”

“Unlike the Sinners, the Desert Spring doesn’t kill old defenseless women.”

“So, she’s safe?” Khalani asked, her voice trembling as she tried to inch forward, but the rope cut into her skin.

“For now,” the woman tactfully replied.

Khalani’s teeth gnashed together, fighting the urge to scream and demand Winnie’s whereabouts but she took a deep breath, trying to hold it together.

“So, will you agree to our trade?” Khalani pressed.

“No.”

Her mouth fell open. “No?”

The woman spun on her. “That’s right. Even if you are who you say you are, there’s no guarantee you’ll honor your end of the bargain and return from Hermes.”

“You’re wrong,” Khalani protested. “We’re good people.”

“Ha! Good people still lie.”

Khalani’s chest caved in as their chances of escape slowly diminished like the sun. “What can we do to prove ourselves?”

“Nothing.”

“Please. We’ll do anything.”

The woman hesitated, her focus shifting to the other captives before lingering on Takeshi, whose eyes locked onto Khalani with a mix of frustration and an emotion she couldn’t quite place—perhaps anger, or something else entirely.

After a long pause, the woman spoke. “We can’t let you leave the Desert Spring, but maybe you’re right. Maybe there is some other use for you.” She nodded to the one of the men, who abruptly turned, bounding up the stairs.

“Are you sure this is wise, Chief?” the other man asked, his tone hostile as he glared at Brock.

“Are you questioning my authority?” the woman lashed out.

The man flinched, shifting uncomfortably. “N-no, Chief. But how can we trust them?”

“We don’t,” was the woman’s terse reply.

Underlining her chilling words, more footsteps echoed down the stairs. Khalani shifted back against the metal pole as ten more figures appeared, crowding the small space. A few held pistols—ones that looked eerily familiar—while others brandished spears or knives.

“Cut the ropes,” the woman ordered.

The strange figures moved with brisk efficiency, sawing through each of their bindings.

When Khalani was released, she gingerly cupped her wrists, rising slowly, limbs aching from the confinement. Brock inched closer to Serene, glaring at the woman.

And Takeshi…he stood like a looming wraith.

She had no doubt that if he were the only captive, he would’ve already attacked them and found a way to escape. But with Khalani and the others by his side and Winnie still missing, he had no choice but to comply with the strange leader’s demands.

The woman nodded, her voice bounding around the room with unquestioning authority.

“You now belong to the Desert Spring. The sun and moon goddesses will decide whether you’re worthy to remain within our walls. But understand this…if we detect even the faintest hint of betrayal, you won’t merely seal your own fate—you will condemn your entire tribe. And we don’t bury our enemies anymore. We spear them from throat to groin and hoist them at the gates for the desert to claim.”

Khalani’s wide eyes met Serene’s, and both of them silently communicated the same thing.

They were absolutely fucked.