It fucked me off, but I couldn’t blame them. They were men, after all. They could equip themselves with every skill imaginable. They could become the best in the world and kill with their bare hands, but unless they could turn their flesh into Kevlar they were still vermin who bled.
As they’d melted into the night, Mercer yelled, “Shoot on sight.”
I’d leapt off the stoop, buckling under the avalanche of agony in my ankle, tearing/ hopping in pursuit of the bastards who’d run. I expected us to separate, but Mercer stayed beside me, sprinting with agility and hardly out of breath as we rounded the first corner of his home and slammed into a Chinmoku.
I delivered an uppercut on instinct, whipping the man’s head up and cracking his teeth together. I waited for him to plummet to his knees, ready to chop the nerve in his neck and suffocate him.
But Mercer had other ideas.
The moment I incapacitated the fighter, he yanked out his pistol and shot him point blank in the face.
For the longest second, we stared at each other, the scent of sulphur still strong in the air. I hated him for taking my first kill but was grateful, because the world swam with sickness and pain, and I needed to conserve every ounce of strength I had left to survive the night.
The strangest thing wasn’t the fact we’d worked as a team or the fact that we’d fought side by side when only hours ago we’d fought tooth for tooth—the strangest thing was how fucking easy it had been.
How smooth.
How rehearsed.
How right.
We grinned in the dark, shedding our human skin and letting pain and lust for death drive us. Not my ankle, shoulder, elbow, nor any malady could stop me as we jogged through his gardens, peering into shadows, steadily listening to the popping of guns from his security team as they found their own Chinmoku to eliminate.
Racing into a large conservatory with palm trees as high as the Phantom and the coos and trills of exotic birds, we ducked as a Chinmoku launched from behind an aviary, going for my jugular in an artery pinch I knew well.
One touch and my nervous system would stop talking to my brain and boom, unconscious and easy prey. Instead, I whirled and performed the same trick on him.
He collapsed into a bag of bones, and Mercer finished him off with a single trigger squeeze. The crack of his gun ricocheted around the glass conservatory, startling roosting birds and making them soar around their gilded cage.
He murmured something in French, linking his fingers through the wire as his gaze darted between the feathered bodies of different jewelled colours.
Outside, more shots fired.
I counted.
One, two, three, four.
I didn’t like that it wasn’t a perfect trio but I loved the noise and visualised my enemies falling.
So far, I estimated eleven Chinmoku had been dealt with. Unfortunately, that probably meant at least one from our side would’ve been killed in retribution for not shooting fast enough or believing he could take on an expert fighter barehanded.
In this fight, we were nothing more than cardboard cut-outs of villain and hero. I didn’t care about the Chinmoku’s motive to kill me. I didn’t care what it would mean if I lost or won.
All we focused on was that elusive finish line.
Bang.
Bang.
Two more down.
Did that make thirteen Chinmoku in an untimely grave or more of ours as worm food?
Mercer gave me a pointed look, standing over the fresh corpse. There was no time to wait and no safe places to dawdle.
Thirteen down did not make this war won. If Daishin had brought twenty of his men—despite his attempt at throwing me off age-old tradition—then we were closer to winning than we’d been at the start.
Keep going.
Keep living.
We faded into the foliage, letting shadows do our camouflaging for us.
I couldn’t allow thoughts of Pim to consume me. I couldn’t permit worries over Selix to distract me.
I had enough distractions with my injuries.
As we crawled through the night, my ankle turned weak, burning with agony, forcing me to hop more than run. My elbow screamed at being used as a balancing rod while my shoulder singed hot around the pinpoint of stitches.
I’d probably have to spend another week in bed after this—if I survive—but I refused to think about that now. The only thing that mattered was extermination.
Mercer guided me through the aviary and down a long corridor with black and white images of real estate and high rises. We bypassed a pool and found another Chinmoku slinking up a back staircase.
Instantly, I lurched forward and grabbed his ankle. Yanking him down the stairs, I smashed his face into the steps and stomped on his spine, snapping something vital.
Mercer cleaned up my mess with yet another bullet to the back of the guy’s head. We weren’t here to drag out a defeat or let them see who we were before they died. If we could slaughter each one without them noticing us, that would be the best outcome.
Clean. Ruthless. Efficient.
Fourteen dead?
Or maybe the Chinmoku had brought guns of their own, even though it went against their code, and Mercer and I were the only ones standing.
We wouldn’t know until we came face to face with either victory or defeat.
Stumbling forward, I chased him as he melted back into darkness, stalking through his own home, looking for infiltrators.
My hands throbbed for throats to squeeze and lives to steal.
We’d been killing for hours or was it days? No matter the tick in my brain, I couldn’t seem to keep time straight anymore. All I knew was I was so fucking tired.
Another few gunshots, more men shouting in French and Japanese.
Bang.
Bang.
Fifteen, sixteen?
Are we close?
Are we winning?
Mathematical equations and probability calculations whirred in my brain as we skidded around another corridor and into the foyer again.
Two Chinmoku this time.
Bright red gloves and black uniforms with matching brutality on their face.
I took one.
Mercer took the other.
My method was hands-on and swift.
Mercer’s was coldblooded and sharp.
Both achieved the same result with glazed eyes and soul-dead carcasses.
Tripping back into a run, I gasped and swiped at fever-sweat stinging my eyes. My vision had once again gone hazy, my ears ringing, my body begging for rest. But I kept pushing, kept killing.
Soon.
Soon this will all be over.
Falling through the front door again, I spotted Selix fighting a young Chinmoku. He couldn’t have been more than late teens. A spitting image of me when I’d stupidly sold my soul into their custody.
The two men grappled on the grass. Selix’s gun scattered just out of reaching distance; most likely kicked out of his hand for hesitating before firing. The Chinmoku was just a kid—a kid intent on spilling blood. With a quick move, he yanked Selix into a throat lock.
A death lock.
No way in hell would I watch my friend be murdered.
Throwing myself toward the battle, Mercer fell back as if understanding Selix was my responsibility just as Franco was his. Not giving me a second glance, he veered to the left, his attention on his friend who also fought a Chinmoku, holding his own but not for much longer.
I stopped paying any attention to anyone but Selix and bowled straight into the bastard doing his best to kill my friend.
We tumbled to the ground, limbs flying, wounds bleeding. I kneed him in the balls as he tried to pin me on my back.
Unsportsmanlike behaviour but I didn’t give a fuck as I wrapped my fingers around his throat and squeezed. Even with my broken digit and no strength in my elbow, I slowly siphoned the life out of him as Selix picked up his gun and held it to the man’s temple.
He
didn’t fire, watching coldly, letting me steal the world of yet another Chinmoku while providing backup if my hands failed in their task.
Slowly, the life drained from him. He faded into nothing and I let go, hating the touch of flesh that was no longer possessed by a soul.
As the dead man fell into a pile of limbs, a slurry of shame filled me. The Chinmoku might’ve been a good kid. He might’ve got wrapped up in this terrible faction the same way I did. He didn’t deserve to die just so me and mine could live.
“Prest.” Selix bent down, holding out his hand.
His voice, still filled with rocks from being strangled, snapped me from my haze. That Chinmoku would’ve killed my only friend—he didn’t deserve my mourning him.
I clasped Selix’s palm gratefully, creaking upright, and for the first time, I truly felt my age. My injuries fucking crippled me and I honestly had no clue how I was still awake, let alone murdering men. A terrible thread of terror struck that I might not get through tonight, after all.
If my maths were correct there should only be two or three Chinmoku left, give or take. My calculations were as fuzzy as my stupid eyesight.
But why were none of Mercer’s men around? Why did I have an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that we’d lost?
Selix pulled his hand away as we broke into a tired amble. I tripped, almost face planting into the manicured grass.
He grabbed my shirt, providing leverage to keep me upright. “Stay alive for me, Prest.”
I nodded and tried to speak, but my tongue was as useless as the rest of me now. I shook my head, doing my best to see as we picked up our pace. I tripped again, this time crying out as my ankle turned into the Grim Reaper’s sickle.
“Fuck’s sake,” Selix muttered, wrapping his arm around my waist as we hobble-jogged back to the large house. I wanted to curse him for thinking I was weak. I wanted to push his bulk away and prove I didn’t need his support.
But this time? This time, I had no energy left to waste on lies.
I knew how I felt, and if I looked half as bad on the outside as I did on the inside, well, I must look like death nuked in a microwave.
Blood trickled from my nose and not from an injury but overuse, overtiredness, and a body slowly shutting down from lack of care. I blinked and squinted into the darkness, doing my best to distinguish glimpses of black security from Mercer’s team and black Chinmoku from the enemy’s side.
Only the red gloves helped differentiate the two.
Climbing the steps to enter Mercer’s home, ready to find the Frenchman and rally our killing unit one more time, I slammed to a stop as Daishin appeared.
From the library.
With Pimlico’s hair wrapped around his fist.
A smug smile on his lips and victory in his heart.
Fuck.
I slammed to a stop. Every method of slaughter and principal of carnage vanished from my mind. Selix froze. The battle was over.
All that mattered was Pim.
And Daishin had her.
A cut marred her pretty cheek. Blood puddled around the collar of her hoodie. And the metal thimble with a wicked sharp fingernail that Daishin favoured as his killing method nicked her jugular.
He believed killing with a simple slice was far more elegant than wielding something larger and cumbersome. He’d been affectionately known as the Wasp while I trained under his strict command.
His sting was just as poisonous and cruel.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Pim.
She stood deathly still, one twitch from death, one scratch from murder.
Apologies and promises danced on my tongue. My wounds faded under a greater, deeper agony.
The agony of having my heart suffocated by the one person who knew how to hurt me the most.
Pimlico was family.
And Daishin was well versed in taking family away from me.
I sighed heavily, almost relieved to have it over.
I wouldn’t have to fight anymore.
I wouldn’t have to hurt.
Looking into the eyes of the woman I loved more than anything, I gave up.
I did what I should’ve done all those years ago.
I put my fate in the hands of honour.
I kneeled before my greatest enemy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
______________________________
Pimlico
THERE’D BEEN A few times—probably more than normal—when I’d wished I wasn’t a girl.
I’d wished I was a boy the night Mr. Kewet asked me to dance and strangled me.
I’d wished I was a boy the evening I was auctioned and men laughed in my face when I offered to buy myself.
I’d wished I was a boy every day of my life that I belonged to that bastard who I would never name again.
But that wish had ended with Elder.
I’d finally come to enjoy being a girl—a woman. Every time Elder looked at me, every hour his feelings evolved from wariness to interest to love, I was beyond grateful I’d been born a girl.
I was happy to be who I was and stopped wishing to be something I wasn’t.
Especially now.
Especially the moment the guards miscalculated our visitors and didn’t follow instructions. Especially now that I’d witnessed the fall of men and rise of women.
The guard beside us by the window fired too late and with no aim. With my ears ringing, I watched in horror as a rain of bullets left his gun empty, us vulnerable, and only two out of three Chinmoku shot.
Two plummeted back to the grass.
But one...he kept climbing.
Tess and I raised our knives, ready to slice at the climber’s hands as he reached the window sill but the guard pushed us away, thinking he knew better, believing he was doing us a favour by taking on the Chinmoku on his own.
The only help he accepted was his colleague who gave up his post by the entrance and came to his side with a fully loaded gun. He switched off the safety and angled himself to shoot. They were so focused on picking off the remaining climber, they forgot about the door.
We all had.
We’d all been stupid.
We missed the tell-tale scratching of someone picking the lock. We were deaf to the sound of the door swinging open and two more death deliverers walking into our safety chamber.
Until it was too late.
The moment violence found us, the bodyguards leapt to attention. The one with remaining bullets had good aim and shot true, killing one interloper right on the threshold. The other guard who’d wasted his ammunition and had nothing but bare hands and useless coordination couldn’t prevent mayhem as the other Chinmoku ran directly toward us and grabbed a hostage from the Mercer staff.
Using a maid as a shield, he was unkillable.
Seeing his hands on her. Hearing her screams.
It’d done something to me.
Something not quite human.
I forgot that the bodyguards were the first line of defence. I forgot men versus female and who normally won in a fight with brawn. The blade in my hands spoke to me; it whispered how easy it would be to stop him from touching her. How quickly I could prevent him from taking her and delivering her to the same sort of fate so many other girls had suffered.
Like I had suffered.
Like I never would again.
I didn’t think.
I just acted.
Instinct took over, and I leapt on him.
My weight shoved him to the side, dislodging his hold on the staff member and delivering a precious moment of surprise. Left unarmed and undefended, I didn’t hesitate as I sank my blade into his soft abdomen. He buckled over, blood seeping, turning his black clothes an inky maroon.
Fighting through the pain, he cursed in Japanese and wrapped fingers around my throat. His nails dug into my windpipe in a move so fast, every cell in my body forgot how to operate.
My knife was useless.
My confidence shattered.
But Tess had done what I had and let a lifetime of being hurt by men overflow, snapping with pissed off power. She mimicked my attack, lodging her dagger into my assailant’s throat, ripping through it like chewy steak, exposing the very same thing in him that he tried to squeeze in me.
As the Chinmoku’s hand’s lost strength, I tripped backward and landed on my ass, bruised and neck-swollen, unable to talk once again.
Tess gave me her hand, helping me from the floor, only for the window to smash fully open and women to scatter as another Chinmoku landed in the room.
The two bodyguards fell on him but it was too late.
In a flash of red gloves, the guard holding the gun had a broken neck and the guard with nothing was shot between the eyes with the stolen weapon.
Killed with no fanfare or salutation.
Women had taken down one Chinmoku while men had failed. In that moment, I was proud of my sex. Proud at how I’d attacked even if I’d fallen prey. Tess had had my back and together, we’d won.
The two Chinmoku cornered us, stepping over the bodies of the guards and their fallen comrade. Women banded together, standing as one against our enemies.
The ultimate standoff.
We outnumbered them and I no longer doubted my power just because I was a girl. But it didn’t help that we had no weapons and they were weapons in every breath.
Looking into the eyes of the black-shrouded mercenaries, we made a collective agreement to be smart not reckless. We might win in a fight thanks to sheer numbers, but the cost of winning would be too high.
They had the gun.
We had nothing.
No one else would die tonight.
Instead of sacrificing ourselves in combat, we all rallied together, placing Suzette with Lino in the middle, acting as a living wall between innocent and evil.
The Chinmoku merely laughed at our display of defiance, crossing their arms, in no hurry to reprimand or disband our fortress.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” one said in accented English, shaking his head as if we were simpletons. “We’ve got much better plans than that.”
I wanted to laugh at how predictable they were—regardless of race or age, a man who believed they were untouchable treated everyone else as disposable.