Chapter 10

I couldn’t agree more with her sentiments. But my reasons were different than hers. And it made me sick to my stomach. I kissed her quickly, closed my eyes, and tried to forget this whole mess. Yet, I began to feel the frills of darkness begin to spider inward, threatening to extinguish the only light in my soul that, since the start of the war, I had given a chance to shine.

When we returned to the bar, we sat together in the car beneath the moonlight for a long moment. Crickets chirped, the waves were loud, as it was high tide now, and the lower limb of the full moon touched the edge of a glowing horizon.

“I’m the new squadron commander,” she finally said.

“Those are big shoes to fill.”

“You think you got it?”

“We’ll see soon enough. The Allied fleet is on the move. They’re heading this way. I suppose they’ll be off the coast within the week.”

She spoke in a clinical, matter-of-fact manner that reminded me of how Bat spoke. She avoided my eyes, but I could see what she didn’t want me to see in them — that they were heavy not only with grief, but a pained distrust.

The early curfews were soon reinstituted. The blackouts happened every night now. They wanted us ready for the inevitable air strikes that would come should the Donavian navy not be able to stop the Allied advance. It was also an attempt to cool the resurgence of rebellious activities.

Anyone caught wandering around after curfew was not given any leniency. Once a week, we held air raid drills. We taped or boarded up our windows so they wouldn’t shatter should the bombs start falling. I couldn’t imagine the Allies ever bombing Estean cities. I suspected these were part of the propaganda to give the image that the Allies were the enemy of Estea, not a liberation force.

Naval warfare broke out in the Zafrian archipelago to the east. There, the Donavian Navy was making its last stand against the Allied forces. If the Allies were victorious, next would be Estea.

The Skybreakers were on full alert — they went into a rotation that put at least a four-ship element ready for action twenty-four-seven. So, I saw less of them at the bar. And even less so, Nephele, because she was now their commanding officer. She stayed at the airfield even when she wasn’t on duty. With the war ramping up, her superiors demanded a lot from her. They demanded a lot from the Skybreakers as if one small fighter squadron could fight against the tide of war.

They no longer used my bar for their mission briefs. They became more careful with their words around me. Paranoia was at its highest level.

When news came of the Allies decimating the Donavian fleet in Zafria, a mass evacuation began. The Black Roses became brazen in their attacks, even taking the fight to the military police on the streets. They carried weapons that could only have been supplied by the Allies. They fought fiercely. Public sympathy for their action rose. The desire for freedom was being revived in the soul of every Estean.

Regan met me again in my bar on the eve of the invasion.

Red hot bloodlust swirled in his eyes.

“The only thing holding the Allies back now are the Skybreakers. So, we need to break the Skybreakers. One in particular.”

I didn’t need any clarification on what he meant by that. I knew the day would come when her death was worth more than the intel. The only thing is, I no longer want her dead.

He didn’t seem surprised by that answer. Instead, he seemed to expect it. He was prepared for it. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Two men I did not recognize came into the bar. They each wore assault rifles slung to their chests.

“I figured you’d say something like that. Figured once you acquired a taste for Donavian pussy, you’d become an addict.”

The men chuckled at the quip.

Regan walked over to the bar, reached over, and, without much fishing, pulled my shotgun out from its hiding place. As he did this, his two men approached me and stood menacingly at either side of me, like towering creatures.

Regan cracked open the shotgun barrels, checking the breeches to ensure it was loaded. When satisfied, he snapped the action back, then motioned with his head to his two men to follow him out the door. They grabbed me harshly on my shoulders to lead me out behind him.

“I’ve got a lovely gift for you, Faye. A reward for your diligent effort and patience. It’s waiting for you in the garage. Come.”

My heart pounded heavily. I felt it in my throat. I didn’t need to have much of an imagination to know that what awaited me was nothing pleasant. I feared the worst.

Regan disappeared into the garage. My escorts and I followed shortly, and I let out a yelp when I saw it. The men tightened their grips on my shoulders as I tried instinctively to run towards her.

It was Nephele, hanging from a chainfall, rope bound tightly around her chest, arms, and ankles. Her mouth gagged with a rag. Blood streaks down her face from her scalp.

She opened her eyes. They went wide when they saw me, and she squirmed frantically in her bindings. Her yells were muffled by the handkerchief gag.

Regan walked calmly up to her and stroked her cheek with a finger.

“You know, Faye, I was surprised and confused at first. But then, I saw the Widowmaker up close, and it all made sense — how she could ever turn you into a dike. She’s fucking hot! If I were in your shoes, I might have done the same. I mean, if you get to have pussy this good, fuck the rebellion!”

“What do you want, Regan?” I yelled. My voice cracked. “They’ve already lost. Let her go!”

I tried fighting against the men, but they were too strong, too big for me. They easily overpowered me. Regan raised an eyebrow. Smirked in that amused way one might when insulted.

“I told you already, Faye. I’m giving you a gift.”

He held out the shotgun to me.

“I’m giving you the best gift of all. The chance for redemption.”

My immediate thought was to tell him to go fuck himself. But I knew an opportunity when I saw one. He was handing me a loaded shotgun. It was an opportunity I needed to take. Even if there were three of them, all armed heavily, and only one of me. Even if the shotgun only had two rounds in it. I reached out for it.

But Regan wasn’t going to let me have it that easy. He retracted it quickly as my hand just touched it.

“Hell, Faye. You didn’t actually think I’d trust you, did you?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“No, no, no. Not in a million years. Unless…”

He tapped his chin with the end of the barrels.

“Unless I could be certain of your convictions. Unless I had insurance.”

As if on cue, the garage door opened, and another man stepped into that dark place. He yanked hard on a wrist, bringing another person stumbling into the room.

“Faye!” Noah whimpered.

He was a sobbing mess. The man that held him pointed a pistol right at the underside of Noah’s jaw.

“Goddammit, Regan, you bastard! If you hurt him. If you put one fucking finger on him, I swear to God –“

“Hold on, just a minute, sweetheart,” Regan interrupted. “I don’t want to hurt anyone right now. Especially not my dear own nephew.”

That wicked, psychopathic smile I was familiar with now grew on his face.

“But of course, that is not my decision.”

He has always been a world-class sadistic bastard. But he was a damn smart one. He knew the best ways to torment people. He held the shotgun out to me again, knowing full well that with Noah here as a hostage, he was safe from harm by me.

At first, I didn’t grab the gun. It took a long while for my mind, constantly darting into dead-ends, to fully comprehend that there was no pleasant way out of this hell. There were only two outcomes. Either Nephele dies, or they both die. And it was up to me to decide the outcome.

I took the shotgun. Regan moved to my side to give me a clear line of sight to Nephele.

Her body, bound tightly, hung in a way that was strangely reminiscent of a statue of a Greek muse I once saw in a museum. She hung defeated. Her head slung to the ground. Her eyes shut. Her breathing was deep and calm now.

When I raised the shotgun, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to look at me. To look at her executioner.

I stared right back. Though I couldn’t tell their colors as I could only see the light of moonbeams in them now, I knew intimately that they were hazel. A hazel that I had gotten drunk on. A hazel that once made me forget that there was ever a war.

My vision grew dark. The shotgun shook in my hands. My arms wavered.

“Do it, Faye,” Regan egged on.

The men crowded in on me. Their shadows in the moonlight loomed over me.

I thought it would be easy. I’ve done it before. I just needed a cold reason to latch on to. There were literally dozens of them: She was a murderer. An instrument of death. Executioner of my people. Of my own husband, who I loved dearly. There was Noah, whose very survival depended on doing this one simple thing. But it wasn’t enough to get me to pull that trigger. I lowered the shotgun. I set it on the ground.

Then, standing straight and tall, I looked right into Regan’s coal-black eyes and demanded what I had demanded before.

Regan let out a single, incredulous-sounding laugh.

“Faye, how unbecoming of you,” he said.

Then he raised a hand and struck me hard against my cheekbone. A strike hard enough to put me to the floor.

Slowly he prowled around me, found a plastic lawn chair against the wall, and set it in the middle of the room. He shoved me into it. Nephele squirmed. Her eyes went wide with fury. But there was nothing she could do.

Regan nodded at one of the men, and suddenly, an electric hair clipper appeared in his hand.

“I was going to save this for after. But I suppose we’re going to have to be flexible.”

The two men held me in the chair to stop me from struggling. But I didn’t struggle. The clippers clicked on and gave a low buzz in my ear.

“The allies are starting their invasion tonight,” Regan said.

He ran the clipper roughly across the top of my head, causing lumps of my hair to fall onto the ground. Then he added.

“You failed us, Faye. You let her live.”

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“That’s precisely the problem, isn’t it? Did you really think we can all get along with those fucking murderers after the shit they pulled? You think you can just… fuck whoever you want and not face repercussions.”

He ran the clipper again across my head. More harshly this time.

I shook my head again.

Regan put a hand on my cheek. A tear streamed down my face.

“Actions have consequences, Faye.”

He grabbed a handful of my hair and attacked it again with the clipper. He yanked at the hair. The blades cut into my scalp and whined as they sheared away my long hair at the roots. Blood trickled down.

“Let them go,” I repeatedly pleaded, even though I knew it was fruitless. The desperate words came out hushed, like a prayer or a mantra, and I had no real control over them. I couldn’t tell if fear overwhelmed me or just an intuition that none of this felt real like it was a nightmare, and if I whispered the words enough times, I would wake.

He finally finished shaving. The clipper went off. I found my hair lying on the ground in curled bunches, like dead leaves. A wet palm ran across my shaved head. The sweat from the palm stung me on the cuts. Then a hand grasped my jaws like pincers. Regan crouched down to bring his eyes level with mine.

“Now everyone will know your true color, Faye. A shame you can longer hide. But you know what? This is not enough. Hair grows back in time. You deserve something more permanent. You forgot Eli. Maybe you won’t ever forget this.”

He grabbed the front of my blouse with both hands and ripped it open. The buttons went flying, plinking onto the ground. I struggled. Tried to let out a scream with the hope that someone outside might hear it. But one of the men holding me down covered my mouth. Still, I tried struggling as much as possible, until it hurt, until my muscles strained with fire. And when I realized my efforts were in vain, I shut my eyes and did my best to drown out the world with a flood of mental noise.

He threw me to the ground. My head spun madly. My skull hit the concrete hard, but unfortunately, I remained conscious. Funny — my head hitting the ground didn’t hurt at all.

Regan came down atop me. Pulled my belt harshly, whipped it off, and threw it aside. He pulled off my pants. Tore off my underwear. Then pried my legs apart.

The other two men held my wrists tightly as he unzipped his pants. They really didn’t have to. I was too weak to fight. I was limp as a fish on the deck of a boat, too exhausted to flop around anymore.

Right when I thought it was going to happen. When I anticipated the forceful penetration, my eyes found Noah. His eyes locked onto mine. In them, I saw something I had never known Noah to be capable of possessing — pure rage. He uttered a barbarous cry and head-butted the man that held him right in the nose.