Chapter 48 Clara
She felt the panic climb her throat. Instantly. She had never been caught—never triggered alarms. She was always in and out. She was always invisible. The shadow. The Eclipse. Never expected and never revealed. Pure destruction with no warnings and no discourse.
The alarm resounded through her head as she ran.
She kept the bag slung across her body, knives in her hands.
She wouldn’t have time for subtlety or hesitation.
A picture flashed across her mind. Carver, as he muttered “I can’t do this anymore.
” And walked away. He hadn’t given her the chance to respond.
Three years ago and she still hadn’t responded.
She had to make it out of this alive. And when she did, she would tell him exactly what she thought of him. She would tell him off at every point and explain precisely why what he did was so wrong. She would bring him to reason, and then she would be the one to walk away.
She was almost to the door. She could hear boots behind her.
She didn’t get a chance to press the button and open the doors.
The hallway narrowed as it led to the doors, allowing only one soldier through with ease.
The first soldier calmly stepped into the hall, standing mere feet from her.
He held a knife, casually tossing it in the air.
No guns in the labs. She flipped her own knives in her hands as she faced him. “Hello,” she grinned.
The one in front curled his lips at her. “You’re who they sent?” The other soldiers didn’t advance behind him, leaving him standing in the hallway’s entrance. Clara couldn’t see how many soldiers were behind him.
It was only a matter of time until the soldiers outside the door responded to the alarms, at which point the doors behind her would open and she would truly be surrounded. She needed to dispose of the ones in front of her before that happened.
“Surprise.” She shot back.
He laughed, and she almost dropped her guard at the shocking sound. “I thought our enemies would have at least given us a challenge.”
She batted her eyelashes, “Oh, they did.” She took the bag off of her shoulder, setting it off to the side. He watched her curiously, as though she would be easily disposed of. Little did he know.
The second the bag hit the ground, she tossed the knife in her right hand, hitting him in the neck. He groaned, grasping for the knife but she was already there. She removed it and finished the slice across his throat, entirely tuning out his gasping.
He slumped to the floor and she was already prepared for the next soldier.
It became repetition. Duck, dodge, launch, whatever it took to make that final slice.
She couldn’t keep count of the soldiers.
Her own breathing came in gasps as the metallic scent overwhelmed her lungs, but she couldn’t stop. One after the other, she made it.
Adrenaline fed her veins and ran through her brain. None of it felt real. All she knew was it was her or them.
The doors behind her opened, and it was the first moment she recognized since the soldiers had started trailing in.
She threw a knife at the next soldier coming into the entryway, and it glinted off his cheek buying her just enough time.
She grabbed the bag and threw it over her shoulder, grateful she added the towel to protect the vials and hoping nothing broke.
The two soldiers who entered through the door looked shocked, but they didn’t have a chance to react as Clara threw two more knives. Neither landed where she aimed, but both hit enough to distract. She grabbed two more from her waist, aware she only had only two more knives.
She needed to run. She had the vials. She needed to get the hell away from here.
“Clara!” The voice barely flicked into her recognition, and she turned. A form ran out from the trees, a gun held out in front of him. Everything about the hand position was wrong. Had he ever held a gun?
He fired at a soldier behind her and the noise snapped her back into the moment. Run. She needed to run.
“Clara!” He called again, “Run!” He stopped running towards her, planting his feet as he aimed at another soldier behind her.
The boy who had never killed anyone. She didn’t have time to contemplate that as she sprinted past him, through the alleyways, winding back to the bookstore.
She wadded up the lab coat and threw it in the corner of an alley, adding her bloodstained shirt to it.
Her tank underneath provided enough coverage as she ran back to the bookstore. She had to get back. The door came into sight, and she opened it, practically slumping against it as she fell inside.
She groaned as she kicked the door closed behind her, head spinning.
“Clara? Clara? My gods, Clara, what happened?” The lights flashed on as Marsh knelt next to her, hesitating before shaking her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Clara groaned again, blinking against the bright light. All at once she seemed to come back into herself. First, noticing the concern and fear in Marsh’s eyes. Second, feeling for the bag and breathing a sigh of relief when she found it. Third, “Where’s Carver?”
Marsh’s eyes widened, “He went after you.”
Clara’s head pounded. “I don’t…I…” She squinted, trying to remember.
“He had a gun? I don’t think he’s ever shot a gun.
He,” she breathed in, grimacing at the pain in her side from the motion.
She could feel the adrenaline fading, and everything became more painful.
“He was still there,” She finally said. Entirely numb.
“What do you mean he’s still there?” Marsh’s voice was harsh, and Clara flinched.