“Dad, what were the terms of the peace agreement?” This is the question I’ve been dying to know.
My father doesn’t answer, but Marco does. “Money, medical relief, a series of programs to revitalize your hemisphere’s shithole economy.” I hear the acid in Marco’s voice. I always had the feeling that below Marco’s smooth exterior there was a dick of epic proportions. Now I’m finally meeting him. “The king would freely give all of this so long as you stayed here with him.”
My gaze moves from Marco to my father. “Is that true?” I ask.
My father’s focus is on Marco, but he nods in answer.
“Dad, if it’s true, then why didn’t you agree to the king’s terms?”
Now my father looks at me. “I won’t sign away your life, Serenity. I’ve already made too many personal sacrifices; I will not make this one.”
What my father says brings tears to my eyes. He’s choosing me over a nation—over an entire hemisphere. It’s the most foolish decision he’s ever made, but it’s also the moment I feel the sheer force of my father’s love for me. He won’t let the boogeyman touch me.
“That’s your official decision?” Marco asks.
“It is.”
“We have to take Serenity,” Marco says. “And we will use force.” At his words, the WUN soldiers cluster around my father and me, but it doesn’t make me feel safe. The king’s soldiers outnumber ours, and they’re better equipped. Not to mention that I no longer have a clean shot with them blocking me.
My father grabs my hand and pulls me behind him. Unlike me, my father’s tall stature doesn’t shield him from our enemies. Not completely.
“Dad—” I whisper.
“You’re going to have to go through me,” my father says to Marco, ignoring me.
My hand twitches and I barely breathe. Something’s about to happen, and now I can’t see anything beyond the cocoon of bodies surrounding me. Around us WUN soldiers are casting my father sideways glances. Right now he’s the commanding officer, and they’re waiting for him to make the call. I already know he won’t be the first one to spill blood.
“So be it,” Marco says.
Before I can so much as grab for my gun, someone fires a shot, and then another. Blood and bone spray down on me, and then my father is falling, my father who’s now missing the back of his head.
I can’t hear anything, the shots are still ringing in my ears. But I know I’m screaming, and now I’ve crumpled to the ground, holding my father’s broken body to me.
My father, who taught me how to ride a bike, how to shoot a gun, how to be a diplomat and a decent human being. My father, my last remaining family.
My father.
My father. Murdered in front of my eyes.
Around me, I can sense movement, and I hear more gunshots go off. I stand, letting my father’s slick body slide off my arms.
I’ve heard stories before about how grief can turn into bloodlust, but I’ve never experienced it before. Not until this moment. It builds like poison in my veins, converting my expanding grief into something violent.
Now I am a force of nature; I am the embodiment of rage. Enemy soldiers are coming at me, and I force my elbow into the neck of one and the solar plexus of another. I grab the gun from my bodice, and I begin shooting the enemy alongside my guards. Headshots. All of them.
I’m still screaming, and I can feel blood and tears dripping down my face. I know I look ferocious, and this gives me pleasure. Their fear and their pain give me pleasure.
I keep firing, even as more guards rush in. Amidst the chaos I see Marco run for the door.
I lift my gun, aim, and fire at him. The bullet grazes his arm, and then he’s gone. I’ve missed my opportunity.
The king’s soldiers, who are streaming into the suite, aren’t shooting at me. They should be. They’re not going to take me alive. I’m leaving this place one way or another. If it’s in a casket, so be it.
“Soldiers!” I yell to what’s left of my men. Five are still standing. That’s all that’s left. “Get to the window. We’re getting out of here!” I can barely hear my own voice from all the gunfire. I signal to the back of the room just in case their hearing is as bad as mine.
The WUN soldiers move to the window, and I’m taking out the king’s men one at a time. I back up to the rear of the room, shoving my now-empty gun back into my bodice and snagging another two from the bodies at my feet.
I throw a leg over the open window. I’m the last one out. We’re on the second story, so I have to jump. I glance down and see one of the WUN soldiers waiting to catch me, the other four guarding the soldier’s back. Beyond them I can see to the end of the king’s property and the road beyond. That’s where the car my father spoke of should be waiting.
A hand wraps around my arm. I don’t think; I bring my arm up and shoot to kill. The king’s soldier falls away, but more come after me. They’ll shoot my guards if I don’t do something first.
I aim and fire. One, two, three, four go down before the gun clicks. I drop it and grab another from the carnage. I shoot three more men and drop the weapon. I pick up two more guns before I’m able to focus on jumping down. This is all the ammunition I’ll have between here and scheduled pick up, so I’ll have to restrain myself from shooting anything that moves.
I make eye contact with the soldier waiting for me below, and then I jump, my arms pointing to the sky since I’m carrying two loaded weapons. He catches me, easing my impact.
“Let’s go!” I shout.
The soldiers surround me, and we sprint through the king’s stupid gardens. I pass the alcove he pushed me into, and I have to suppress the desire to shoot the balls off the marble statue that rests within it.
The quiet is eerie, and I know not to be deceived by it. The king’s guards are regrouping, setting something up. I pray to any god willing to listen that our ride will still be waiting for us, that we’ll get past the king’s people, and that we can get the hell off this godforsaken land.