Octavia
Markev leaves his dorm at exactly nine fifty two.
I follow.
He strides across the inner courtyard and heads straight for the academy parking lot.
I can’t keep the smile from my face as I trail him at a careful distance.
He pauses beside his car, eyes narrowing as he checks something near the rear panel, then slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
He has a spare key to the Lamborghini. I know this because the one I stole is still in my dorm, and because I have watched him take that car off the academy grounds more than once, always going somewhere.
I don’t complain, as he is making this remarkably easy for me.
And as that thought crosses my mind, I begin to doubt my plan.
For a moment, I wonder whether he has somehow read my intentions, whether this is part of something I can’t yet perceive.
But that is impossible.
I didn’t even know how this was going to happen until a few hours ago, so how could he?
I like control, but sometimes I am content to leave things to fate, with a small nudge from me, of course.
Which is probably not leaving it to fate at all, but whatever.
He pulls away, and I wait a full three minutes before moving.
The car I unlock is mine.
No one knows that. It is not registered in my name, so it can never be traced back to me.
It is one of several vehicles, placed across the island for emergencies. Adriano handled the logistics.
I pull out and follow Markev at a safe distance.
He exits the academy grounds and takes the main road toward the town.
I remain behind him.
This is exactly what I need, him away from the academy grounds, away from his friends.
Out here, there is no Ferrum Syndicate breathing down my neck, and no Thirteenth Circle.
Just an open road and fewer witnesses.
Once in town, he parks near a small shop.
The island is quiet at this hour, as its only residents are academy students, faculty, and staff.
Markev is inside for less than two minutes, and I narrow my eyes. What is his reason for being here? Just shopping?
When he comes back out, an unlit cigarette hangs from his mouth. He walks slowly, without a care in the world, scanning the empty lot.
He gets back into his car and pulls away.
I follow once again.
The road narrows as we leave the town behind, trees closing in until there is nothing but forest and rolling hills on either side.
I glance at the remote resting on the passenger seat and take it into my hand.
I look up once more at the car ahead of me and smile faintly.
“Goodbye, Markev.”
I press the brakes abruptly, at the same moment my thumb finds the button.
The car in front of me explodes.
The sound is deafening, and the flash of flame so bright it burns my eyes.
As I stare at the wreck in flames, an unfamiliar pressure tightens in my chest.
A strange sensation.
I don’t like it. It almost… hurts?
I shake it off and return my attention to the burning car.
Too bad it was a Lamborghini.
But ah well, what can one do? Sometimes we must sacrifice precious things for the greater good.