I need to move.

I’m hurt and soldiers are still attacking.

I suck in a breath and then another. Sheer force of will has me crawling across the cement. Scattered around me are several bodies, both friend and foe. I hiss in a breath as I grab a gun lying a foot from one of them.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself back to my feet. An agonized cry slips out as the movement tugs at the injury.

My eyes search for Montes.

When I find him, he’s mowing the enemy down with his gun, making his way towards me. He holds his bloody left arm close to his side, and I realize I’m not the only one injured.

That is enough to invigorate me.

Someone hurt my monster.

I begin to shoot the men attacking the king, baring my teeth as I do so. I welcome my bloodlust like an old friend.

Enemies go down, one right after the next.

Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. I’m screaming as I shoot, from rage and from pain.

The gun clicks empty.

I’m breathing heavy. I’ll have to bend down to grab another, and I really don’t know if I’ll make it back up.

I’ll shoot from the ground.

I collapse more than kneel onto the cement, and I cry out as my entire body radiates pain.

At the sound of my shout, Montes’s head snaps to me. He falters, his eyes burning, burning as he takes me in.

Lately I’ve seen the king wear many new faces. This is another I’ve never seen. His nostrils are flared, his mouth parted and his chest heaving.

His mouth moves. Nire bihotza.

Seeming to forget about the fight still raging around us, he staggers towards me.

I’m shaking my head.

I’m just grabbing another gun, I want to tell him.

He doesn’t stop. One tear falls down his cheek, then another.

A dozen different gun blasts are going off every second, but Montes doesn’t hear any of them. He’s forgotten about the fight.

I lick my lips. “Mont—”

A bullet rips its way through the king’s neck.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

My heart palpitates in my ears. And I’m choking, choking.

I try to scream, but nothing comes out.

Montes reaches a hand to his throat. Instantly, his blood envelops it. The king sways on his feet, his gaze locked on mine, then his legs fold out from under him.

A hundred years of war, a hundred years of fighting and waiting, and it all comes to this—a messy death in a hangar.

Montes. I mouth his name.

He’s still staring at me, even as his body jerks. Death throes. I’ve seen them often enough.

This is my last fear, and just like all the others, I have to live through it.

Pain and anguish and rage all gather below my sternum.

I’m falling, falling back into that abyss that I’ve tried for so long to crawl out of.

I welcome the darkness.

Now a brutal cry tears from my throat. I grab a gun from the nearest dead man, my lips curling back, and then I begin to fire. I kill the closest people in a matter seconds, smiling terribly as blood and bone explode out the back of their bodies.

Freedom or death. It’s an apt slogan. I will either live by my own terms or die by them. And I’ll take as many of these fuckers with me as I can.

Someone clips me in the arm. My torso jerks back, but it only takes a moment to recover. And then I’m pulling the trigger once more.

I can feel the pain screaming across my body; it harmonizes with the screams inside my head. And still I shoot.

The enemy falls, one after another.

My gun clicks empty, but now the ground is full of scattered bodies. I crawl to one of them, pausing to vomit from the pain.

Just as my hand reaches for another weapon, a booted foot kicks the gun away.

Lightheaded and cold from blood loss. I reach a hand down to brace myself against the ground.

I sense more than see the soldiers swarm around me.

Something heavy slams into my head, and the world goes dark.

Chapter 40

Serenity

The sound of beeping wakes me.

I come to in a narrow hospital bed.

For a girl that hates doctors, I end up in quite a few hospitals. Of course, that’s assuming I’m in one at the moment.

It smells like a hospital—that antiseptic smell hasn’t apparently changed in the last hundred years.

The moment I try to move, I hear the jangle of metal, and the sharp edge of handcuffs digs into my wrists.

I tug on them again and find each hand has been locked to the metal frame of the bed I lay on.

Imprisoned to a bed. This is going to make going to the bathroom interesting.

I sit up the best I can, ignoring how the metal rubs away skin.

My last memories come rushing back. The explosions, the shootout at the hangar. My stomach was torn open, and then …

Montes.

I can’t catch my breath.

Dead.

The grief is instant, unfurling within me. My heart is shattering, just the way I feared it would.

A tear slides out, and my throat works. I lock my jaw to fight back the anguished cry I want to let loose.

It’s unfathomable. My monster can’t die. My nightmare can’t be over. Not when I was just beginning to enjoy it.

My body shakes as I fight to keep myself together. I know better than to fall apart now. Not now when I’m clearly my enemy’s prisoner.

I will kill them all. Every single person.

The girl who hates games needs a game plan.

By the time they come for me, I have one.

A single man enters the room. He’s some sort of ex-military, even though he wears civilian clothes.