The sky. Always there, always looming. Never the same shade, never the same pattern of cloud. Even the stars seem different every night. A slightly different variation of the day before.

He had not given much thought of the days that passed in the last 2 years, but the sky... it demanded to be noticed. When his hands were covered in blood and death, the sky loomed over him. Judging him. Comforting him. A blanket of darkness. He had nothing but contempt for it. It was not welcome, but he couldn't run from it, couldn't hide. So, what was the point of avoiding it?

Standing and looking down at the lifeless limbs sprawled along the alley wall, he had began his next dance. He was nothing but a pawn in this game of queens and kings. The age of kings and queens was over long ago, but the ideologists that strived for perfection was never going to end. And him? Who knows. He would never be a knight, the idea of an assassin... perhaps. Hitman... nah. Who was he in this game of chess? A pawn was the only answer. He had no say, no power, just a good arm for a fight and a lucky shot with a gun and yet, he was the secret weapon. Looking to the ocean of darkness above him, he sighed. He was bored. It was too easy to gut this guy. It was all too easy. Walking through his existence without so much as a blink. Days, blurring into each other. A target looking like the next. This was one of the opponents lackeys. Their own version of a pawn. And now he was dead, like the rest would be before the week was out. Weeks, days, hours. Time was irrelevant, he was irrelevant. If it wouldn't be him, it would be someone else. In the end, the target would still die. At least he could keep it contained and quick. He had seen many a man filleted and kept alive for the mere enjoyment of his comrades... if that was what you could call them. The sky was just starting to shimmer with the promise of the day. Another one lost.

Picking up the body, he lifted it over his shoulder and walked towards the blacked out Audi at the end of the alley. They always knew where he was. A docile dog on a lead. Trained to kill for them. He hauled the dead weight into the boot and got in the back seat. “The office,” was all he said before he closed his eyes and let the lull of the car lead him into the open arms of oblivion.

“Im pregnant.” Those two words pricked at the back of his head.

“What?” was all he could manage as he turned around to his love.

“Im pregnant.” A nervous smile crawled onto her lips. Those lips.

Before he had a chance to breath his arms enveloped her into a hug, holding her to his heart. Holding them to his heart. He had never felt so alive. The little promise of a future. Their future.

Jolting awake, the car had stopped. A flicker... just a flicker. Oblivion would have been lucky. Another place he had no say over. His memories and his sleep. Climbing out the car, he looked up to the looming judgment above him. The sky was awake now. The sun just starting to rise. The birds rustling with song. Another time he could have closed his eyes and breathed in the morning air with a cup of coffee and a arm around his love. Another life. Another person. But for now, he headed to the boot and pulled out the soldier.

The building was tall, inconspicuous in the city of sky scrapers and offices. For all it could be was offices with hard working people in it. Fair people. Surely? Shaking his head, he headed in. The floor slick and white, the walls adorned with pictures of happy people. People long forgotten. They would have to mop the floor after he was done. The receptionist nodded and picked up her phone. She was a show. The first doorbell that needed ringing. The escalator opened before he got there. A guard stood in wait. If a guard could be what you called him. More like a bulldog. All for show. It was all a play, and he was the stooge. Stepping into the escalator he kept the body over his shoulder. He was the second bell to ring. Tapping his fingers against his leg, they waited in silence. The rust tang pierced the air as they breathed. The confined area too small to avoid the stench. The only sound was the quiet constant of the blood running off his coat from the body. They would have to mop in here too. The lift climbed down to the pit. Drip, drip, drip. The doors slid open. A nod to the dog and he left the tight area. The vast room was more like a dungeon. He supposed it was. He had been here many times, always seemed to be the same set up. You could easily drive a car around the area. The walls a dark red. The lights dimmed and dotted around. Just enough to see each of the shadows of the guards. Reapers in the darkness. Ready to take life at a nod.

Adjusting the body further back onto his shoulder, he moved towards his master right in the middle of the pit. His King for all intensive purposes. He sat on a red leather sofa, a woman on his lap and a glass in his hand. The epitome of what you expect in an underground facility and someone who had the world at its knees. Well, thought they did. Mr Cock sure here. “So its done?” His gravely, bored voice broke the silence. His hand moving up and down the woman on his lap. Her plastic smile, fake boobs and lipstick smear were almost enough to distract from the bruises on her neck. Almost enough jewellery on her wrist to hide the wilts. But definitely not enough clothing to hide the marks on her back. Her backless dress just covering the start of her ass.

“The first part. They are holding a gala on Saturday to raise money for a local charity. Mr Alcante will be the main event. As he hasn't been seen in a number of months, his lack of presence will be noticed if he doesn't make an appearance. I have an opening using this guys invite.” The body was getting heavy. Riga-mortis creeping in. But he stood tall, unwavering. Waiting for permission. He had done this enough times to know the rules.

“Tarley! Take Mr Cain's body to the dogs.” He dropped the body with a thud. Waiting for Tarley to take it away to the dogs... ironic. Tarley is probably a Jack Russle. All bark and no bite. Would Tarley be able to hold the damn thing? “Jose! Give Tarley a hand.” The bull dog from the lift took most of the weight. The Jack Russell doing the bare minimum. To the dogs indeed. Maybe they were wolves. “You might need your coat cleaned before you attend. Celine will give you some money for a new outfit, and to cover your dry cleaning for the coat. Oh and to cover the local hotel in the area. It would be easier if you could get there without having to haul your paraphernalia about.” Just enough to cover it all. Not enough to live. With a nod, he turned on his heel and headed back to the lift. “Oh and Creed, dont make it messy.” He ignored him. He would do what he had to do and he would make it quick, regardless of the mess.

He walked into the freshly cleaned lobby. “Hello Celine.” She was a petite woman, with dark hair angled around her face, wore a white blouse and pencil skirt. The perfect picture of a receptionist dealing with emails, who knows, maybe she was. She handed him a credit card and a new phone. “Use this from now on. You have a limit of £2000 on here. You know the deal.” With a curt nod, he took what she offered and left. He needed food, a shower and a drink.

The driver held the door open. It was all pathetic. All for show and tell. More money than sense for anyone to care. Lives didnt matter to these folk and it was disgusting. They didnt care that that woman was sore. The king made sure everyone knew that she was his. That he had made his mark on her for all to see. It made him sick. Made him want to hurl more than the blood he spilt. More than the dark secrets he had kept over the years. Her little face shining with pain as she tried to hide it. She hid it well enough not to get a reaction from anyone but he knew. He saw through that mask. It was part of his job. He wanted to end peoples paid as quick as he could. Its the one service he would provide in his job. He would do it painlessly. Well as much as it would allow. His stomach churned as he got in the car. He needed that whisky sooner rather than later.

The hotel was small. Nothing special. A bed, a kettle, a toilet and shower. It would do. After running around the local shopping centre looking for a damn shirt, a quick bite and of course his bottle of whisky, it was quiet. Too quiet. It was a few days until he had to go on the prowl. This gave him time to think, not that he wanted to.

Two things he was absolutely sure of; nothing he did made a difference to either side of the fight and, that he didn't have a choice in any of it. Not if he wanted to keep them safe. This was why he hadn't ended himself after all this time. She would be about 2 now. He didn't even know her birthday or her name. He was gone. He had to be, for them both. They would both hate him for it but it had to happen. One mistake had changed the course of his life forever. One drunken brawl and that was it. He was caught up in this life of the damned.

The pub was crawling with, what he now knew as the underworld jacks. All watching and waiting. He knew nothing then. Just as naive as the rest of the city. With her at home with the ladies, he was celebrating. Just having found out the sex of the baby, he had rallied a few friends. If only he knew what would go down.

She was so young. This young lady of barely 18. Her clothes too revealing. He had watched it unravel. The man at the bar was hunting her. He watched and waited for her to be a tad more tipsy. He couldn't let it happen. He was going to become a father. He couldn't let this girl go without helping her. He should have though. As the man put the powder in her drink. It had only taken a matter of seconds. She was only looking away for seconds, but before the rim touched her lips he was there. The glass now on the floor and the man with a bloody nose bent over in pain. He should have left then, should have just left it alone. “What the fuck?!” the man groaned through the blood. The young lass now with eyes full of shock and unshed tears.

“I'm sorry Ma'am but he put something in your drink.” He should have turned and left but before he could move, 5 men had surrounded him.

The man with the bloodied nose grinned. “Your dead now. You should have kept your nose out.”

“At least mine isnt bloodied up”. Why did he think that was a smart thing to say? He was down within seconds. The flood meeting his head with a oomph. His nose might not be bloodied but he would have the bruises for weeks. Still half conscious he was taken out and beaten. 6 guys including the bloody nose prick. One after the other kicking him over and over. These were their precious cards, the suits.

“Enough.” those precious words saved his life that night. Well, kinda. He should have insisted they finished the job. Should have bitten back. But he didnt have that luxury or any idea of what he had let himself get into.

“Put him in the car. We are in need of a new hunter.” Hauling him up, he willed himself to fight back, to push them off but it was useless. They must have injected him with something. He was just glad it was him and not the 18 year old. That was his saving grace as he slipped into the abyss.

He tilted his head up to the shower and let the hot water cascade down his body. It had taken months to heal properly after that night and what followed and even now, he still had scars from where they had drugged him. It had taken weeks for them to get anything out of him. They wanted to know his weakness. Wanted to know about his life. He didn't spill. Not until they held up a picture of her with the swollen belly. They didn't even need to touch him after that. They had what they wanted. A hunter. A wolf. The deal was agreed that he would abide by their rules or they would die. Then they would lock him up so he couldn't join them. Every few months there would be an updated photo. He wasn't allowed to keep them but he was allowed to see the photos all at once every known again. The life he could never be a part of. The life they held so easily in their hands. A taunt to keep him leashed. With the world of social media, them getting pictures was so easy. In her eyes, he would be a fool. A no good partner and father. He was okay with that if it meant them being safe.

He finished in the shower, going through the motions. Dragging on his sweatpants, towelling his hair dry. It was only a few days then he could get lost in the kill. It was now the only thing he let himself get lost in. He needed to be what they wanted. And sometimes, sometimes he let himself enjoy it. The hunt. He had the blueprints. He had his “invite”. It all seemed too easy by this point. He had lost touch with what it all meant. If anything. There was no point in trying to change anything. He grabbed the bottle of whisky and drank long and slow as he planned his route of attack.

Creed had finished the bottle within 2 hours. He was royally fucked up. Good, for now it made it easier. A knock at the door had him to a feet within seconds though. Whisky or not. “Who is it?” His voice was not his own. He tried to shake his head back to sober. No chance. The world turned side ways and he was out. The blackness welcoming him with open arms.

“Creed? Creed? Where are you? Creed?” Her voice started getting desperate. Then she was there on the masters lap. Her body covered in the bloody marks. Her face tainted with unshed tears. Her belly back to normal. Where was she? Where was his daughter? He started to run to his love.

“Creed? Where are you?” He tried, he tried to get to her. But the bastards hand drew back and slapped her around the face.

“NO!” He was awake. His heart thumping yet again. He leaned up from the carpeted floor. Right, the hotel. Vomit all over the place. The stench made his stomach turn. What the fuck had happened? He got up, the world turning under his feet suddenly seemed too fast. The fading images of his dream coming back with a vengeance. He bolted to the bathroom and brought up everything he managed to get down yesterday, if there was anything left.

Splashing his face with cold water he walked back into the room heading straight for the blueprints. Luckily he had managed to miss them. He shook his head and dragged on some clothes. Clean sweatpants, his trainers and a t-shirt. He needed air. He headed downstairs after shoving the blueprints into the safe. His weapons already in there. God bless whoever even tried to get in that damn safe, the whole building would blow up if even one wrong number was entered. In the lobby, he let them know that the room needed cleaning. He neglected to add the real reason it needed a spruce up. He would pay them extra.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

He ran. Ran as far as he could away from the images that plagued him. His brown hair starting to dampen in the morning sun. It was already so warm. He hated the stifling heat. He was fit. He had to be in the nature of the job. His muscular figure was nothing to ride home about but it meant less bulk. He needed to be quick, light footed. As the days blurred into nothingness, he forgot the special days, the days that used to mean something. But he knew he was 27, and that at some point that used to mean something. He ran harder. His feet pounding into the pavement until his feet started to sing.

Leaning on his knees he ragged in each breath. Clawing back the oxygen into him as he let himself feel. Feel the life still had. Feel the anger as it settled upon him again. His phone buzzed once before it was at his ear. “Creed.” was all he said.

“There is a problem. The master has been assassinated.” Said the warped voice on the other end. He stopped breathing for a nano second. His world tilted with hope. “By the woman.” A smile teased his lips.

“You want me to end her?” He knew being free wasn't an option. There were too many players in this game for it to be so easy.

“The new master wants her to be removed, yes.”

“What about the current mission?” He started to walk back to the hotel.

“The Master believes it to be obsolete for now. Focus on the woman.”

“Do we have a name?”

“Does it matter?” his fists clenched. Yes. Yes it did.

“I need a target. At the moment all I have is a face and a body marred with bruises.”

“Careful Creed.” A warning. A promise.

“The sentence still stands. I need a name.”

“Very well. Her name was Angelina. She was taken from the bar where we found you. That is all we have.” That's all they cared to know.

“Do we have a last name?”

“No.” The line went dead.

“YOU HAVE 1 WEEK.” A text.

Great, one week to find this Angelina and kill her. Time to go hunting.

Death: Chapter 2

Back at the hotel, he gathered his stuff. He needed to go to where it all began. He needed to walk the streets he walked with her. No, no he couldn't. He stopped. His heart rate elevated. Shit. He needed to go back there. For two years he had pushed back against every part of him that screamed at him to take a look. To make sure she was a safe as they said. The pictures showed her life. Her rebuilding. His love living. Both of them. His breathing started to stagger. He tried to remember how to breath. How to focus. How to let the animal take over and leave him empty. The way he did when they tried to break him. They knew what they were doing. This was why they were doing it. Making sure he was the one to take her down. Dangling him so close to the life he could never touch. He let anger settle over him again. Let it seep into his muscles, his head and last his heart. He needed his black soul that lay inside him to take over. To give him this reprieve. He settled into it. The darkness. Let it veil over him.

He put his coat on. The coat that had seen so much blood. The dry cleaners had done a great job but the scent of blood will always cling to this. The traces so fine, but there non the less. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs. With a final nod to the administrator he was out the door. He hoped the vomit would be the worst this hotel would see. The usual driver was waiting outside. “Will I ever learn your name?” the damn driver just stared forward. No answer. He vaguely wondered what dog would do as such. Maybe a Dobermann? He climbed in the familiar surroundings. After a beat the car was moving. He didn't want sleep. He needed to research. Pulling out his laptop he set to work searching for the girl. It shouldn't be to difficult. A small place like Sadler's where everyone knows everyone's business. It would be in the police reports if she went missing, or if she had shown up with bruises and wilts.

Searching the headlines should have brought up something if she was heading home. Maybe they were giving her less credit than they thought. “Oi, pull over will you? I'm not so sure she went straight home.” he needed cameras. He needed to follow her as she left the compound. “Head to the office. I need to check some things out.” The driver nodded and they were on their way.

He wondered how much of the weak female was for show and how much it was just buying time. His instincts told him the latter. She was going to make them pay. She was going to make a difference in her defiance. He pulled out his phone and dialled the office. “Creed,” was all Celine said in way of greeting.

“I'm going to need CCTV of how she left and how she got out.” He needed to see what door she left out of.

“That isn't possible.”

“Why?” His brows furrowed.

“The cameras were... out of use.” She seemed unsure of her answer. What was she hiding?

“She tampered with them didn't she?”

No answer. A smile teased his lips. A dangerous but pride smile. This girl had guts. “Very well. How long was she at the compound and in his... company?”

“Creed... I'm not sure I'm meant to be answering these.”

“Why? Is this a test?” This was going to be a long week. The call went dead.

There were two avenues that this could go down. Maybe three if he was unlucky. This was an inside job by the new “King” who he was yet to meet; she was undercover from another suit, or this was a test. They wanted him back in Sadler. They wanted to see if he would crack. Fine, Sadler he would go. He would go and find out who this damn woman was that killed the King.

It was late. Nearly closing time. The loose lipped punters would be the only saving grace. He had looked for any missing person signs, went to the police station to see if they had heard anything and now he was standing outside the bar where it all began. Taking a deep breath and letting the animal take over he stepped in. “Whisky, on the rocks please.” Well, he needed to fit in somehow. There was only about ten people left in the whole establishment. It wasn't a big place. Dark wood almost on every furnishing. The old back seats a horrid green, stained with many a spilt drink. The floor a sticky dark wood to match the furnishings. The stale ale smell lingering in his nose. It wasn't much to anyone really, but to him, it was like stepping into a memory. A haze that he tried to keep at bay. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to remember. He tried not to look too hard at the corner where he would watch the footy on the small screen. Or the pool table that he would often commiserate over. He was shocking at the game and his mates knew it. Often placing bets on just how bad he would take the shot. He had potted the black before then end way too many times to mention. His whisky glass was empty.

“Another one please.” The bar tender merely nodded before he poured. Taking the glass, he decided to head to the most sober person he could see. The older man was sat playing solitaire on a small table. A pint resting on a beer mat. “Good evening sir,” he spoke. He needed to be polite but to the point. He couldn't be noticed.

“Hello young man, fancy a game of rummy?” The old man was more sober than he thought, judging by his clear words. Maybe he just needed a shave and a shower.

“Maybe another time. My misses ran out on me and I'm seeing if I can find her. Ive not herd from her in a while or of her and just want to set my mind at rest. In this small town, I thought I might run into her.” He hated every word that came out of his mouth. It was so easy to lie now. So easy to pretend he was someone else.

“You wont find her in the bottom of that glass boy.” Indeed, he was right.

“Have you seen her non the less? She's yay high, dark skin, dark hair, brown eyes?”

“Have you not got a picture of her? All you youngsters take pictures of everything.” Again, he was right.

“I foolishly deleted them. I was a fool and I want to make sure she is at least safe.” The man sighed. He had stories to tell. Knowledge for the ages. Creed knew that, but he didn't have time. Yes it was only day one, but time was of the essence. Little did he know how he would actually be able to kill her. He would think of that later. Animal, remember. Hunter. For them.

“A woman came in yesterday matching your lady friend. She seemed... off though. Desperate. Said she was looking for someone called Creed. Poor thing was covered in bruises. I hope you didn't do them young man.” The man looked right into him. Accusation burning on his tongue. Right into his soul. Blue vibrant cold eyes. He was stone cold sober. It was then that Creed realised what he had missed. All the punters glasses were full. Not one empty glass anywhere. Shit. Looking towards the door he entered in the bar man was already there. His arms crossed. He was blocked in. He was stuck with them. Eleven including the barman. They were stuck with him. The new arrangement hadn't mentioned anything about keeping this job clean. But here? All these memories. This old man full of stories? Maybe he could be careful. Maybe.

His dark shadows curled in the pit of his stomach. Curling with trepidation. The animal wanted blood. Excelled in it. The day they showed them that picture was the day this darkness came. The dull ache for blood. That never mattered, no matter how much he tried to control, tried to handle. It always won. That anger that pierced him so easily, that shrouded his judgment for pulling back his punches. Gone with a lick of the wind.

And so he stood up. Drained his drink and setted into the darkness. Cracking his neck he embraced the shadows. He herd the first step behind him, before the guy had a chance to bring his arm up, the empty glass in Creeds hand was smashed onto his face. Right on his nose. One down. Another came up next to him, he blocked his assault and booted him in the stomach, the guy stumbled back as someone grabbed Creed from behind and started to pull him back. But he was faster, he hauled the assailant over his head and on to the floor on his back, winding him before he stood on his face with his fuck off boots. A crack. He was dead. The smell of blood filled the air and made Creed shake. This was what he didn't want to be, but it made him feel so alive. Before he could think the next guy was on him. He punched him in the face once, twice. He was down. A quick glance, he was still breathing.

“You fucking killed him.” The old man's gruff voice stated. The others seemed to be thinking twice now. But why hadn't they drank the drinks. Were they waiting for him?

“Where is she?” His voice was ice cold in his mouth. The words were from the hunter.

“And why the hell should I tell you a damn thing?” He was of no use then. He tried, he tried to pull back the punch. His eyes blurred. Down he fell. Dead.

“Who the fuck are you?” The bartender was full of rage. He could feel it. All of them. The rage, the hurt. He could see it as clear as the fucking sky. That fucking sky! That was it. He got out his gun and with a few shots they were all down.

“The names Creed, nice to meet you.” He spoke to the dead. The animal inside bowed to the glory. Bathed in the blood that meant he had saved them. Saved his family once more. He had finished them all. They couldn't know who he was. Not if the girl had come looking for him. They already knew too much.

He searched the pub. There had to be cameras here. He headed upstairs to a little office. It had about as much organisation as a land fill. Smelt like it too, but he set to work. The idiots didn't even have a password. Looking through the CCTV over the last few days. It had only been what? Three days since he went to the kind with the body. Maybe even two. Jeeze he needed to pay more attention. Running through them at high speed he waited for any woman to walk in. It was mainly the same people that were dead down stairs.

Hours went by while he scrutinised the tapes. Then a flicker of hair stopped him in his tracks. There she was. Not Angelina... no. But her. His love. Staring right at the camera. Right at him. All the wind nocked out from his chest. He couldn't breath. Her blond hair cascading around her face. He face full of knowing. So smart and ready to shout at him for not taking the damn bin out. There, staring right at him. He couldn't look away. He was lost in her eyes. An ocean right there. How many days had he wasted in the last two years waiting to see her. Hoping for just a glimpse of her.

It was surely just coincidence. This was a local stomping ground for them both in the early days. He kept the tape rolling, watching every move she made. She went over the the solitaire man and spoke. The tape was only visual but those lips. He would die a thousand deaths if he was allowed to hear that voice just one more time. Not in the nightmares he had every night, but in front of him. Jotting down the time frame of when she was there he pocketed it like a lifeline. He would be taking this particular part away with him. They wouldn't know.

Watching with eagerness, it wasn't long until Angelina was there. Watching it all unfold before him, his love enveloped her into a hug. What the fuck was going on? Angelina was shaking. Visualy speaking on and on about something very important, and then with one last look from both of them to the camera, they were gone.

Either this was a trap, or he was being reached out to in the only way that might actually be safe. It was all fucked up no matter which one it was? This wasn't a hunt for Angelina. This was a hunt for her. He couldnt bring himself to think of her name. He had pushed it that far down. A way to keep her safe. Them safe, but now the two worlds were clashing. The darkness stirred again. Letting out a growl through his teeth, he was seething. What the fuck were they playing at? He was angry at them both. At the world. At himself.

He should walk away. He should shut it out, go running back like the dog he was. The same bit of the tape was playing... her ocean eyes. He was fucked. They all were, and it was going to rain blood if one hair on her head was harmed. The darkness pooled for action. It was already poised to strike at the thought. Saving the recording onto a flash drive he pocketed it and left the room. Leaving the tape playing.

He stormed out the bar, the damn car waiting. “Go away. Ill sort myself out.” The driver nodded his head and got into the car. He had done this before. But he couldn't help the feeling that this was too, some sort of test. He needed to think. His partner... ex partner... whatever she was, was caught up in this damn mess and he needed to kill someone she was close with. But where was his daughter? It was late. Early if you thought too deep about it. He looked up. Clear enough, the stars winked back. The darkness echoing for eternity but those stars, they lit up the way. He let his boots decide where to go. Blood still lingering on the bottom.

He had stumbled home too many times to count. His feet knowing the route better than his mind did these days. He was sorting through everything when he eventually looked up. There he was. Like nothing had changed. Right in front of his old home. Was she even living here now? Was he even welcome? He didn't give himself time to think or reconsider. He knocked. Only once. He allowed himself that privilege. Their lived on the precipice. Would he drown?

Several locks unlashed, one after the other before the door creaked open. The scent of heat, home and her wafted in like an avalanche. He though he was prepared. He fell to his knees. She stood there. He was fucked. She was fucked. What had he done? “Creed get in this door now before your spotted.” She made no move towards him. She gave nothing away. But he managed to stand. His legs shaking. She had spoken his name. He tried to remember how to breath. Two years. Two years of hell had been worth it to hear his name on her lips again. He walked in. It was a death sentence but he would take it.

Her arms flung around him before the door had closed. Her scent hitting him again. More concentrated. Lavender, ylang-ylang and palmer violets. Intoxicating. He would bring the world to dust if it meant keeping hold of her like this. He didn't want to let go. He couldn't. All of the questions, all the anger left him winded. He couldn't think of the words. Where to start? She lent back and focused on him. Those ocean eyes the pivoting point of his whole world. “We don't have much time Creed. This is big. We are taking it all down.” His mind tried to focus. He tried to hear the words she spoke but he couldn't bring himself to heel. He was unravelling piece by piece. Every death that he took to keep her safe. All the weeks of torture and training to keep her safe. What was it all for? It wasn't suppose to be like this. She was meant to move on. Have a new life. That's what the pictures showed. The darkness reared its head. No. She was alive. She was there in front of him and it was heart breaking. His hands turned into fists. It was wrong. All wrong. Where was the baby? His baby?

She was waffling about it all. He got the basic gist of it. She had a plan. A plan to take down the Kings. All of them. It was stupid. How could she? Where was the baby? He was trying to grasp anything that might answer the flooding questions that swarmed his head. His knees were faltering. His hands tightening still. He could feel his nails breaking the skin. More spilled blood. He needed to walk out. Walk away from her so she didn't get hurt. But he was stuck. If he tried to move he would fall. Falter into her arms. His throat prickled. He couldn't even say her name to get her to stop. To stop with the nonsense.

He tested it in his head. Willed his mouth to move. Where was the baby? “Where is she?” His voice was strained. He couldnt breath.

“Who?” His loves eyes went blanc as soon as she spoke. A sign of realisation. “Creed... I lost her. The stress... I think?” Her expression was empty. She had nothing to give on this matter. He would kill them all. Let the world burn.

“Ill kill them.” He was out the door before she said another word.