22
A vicious life earns a vicious death.
Khalani lifted her hands, shielding her eyes from the brilliant sun that sailed overhead. But when her vision finally cleared, she froze.
She’d been kidnapped and dragged to a different desert settlement with hundreds of red-and-blue-colored tents. In the center stood a tall, dilapidated building. It was gray and looked like an ancient castle with towering turrets overlooking the town. Faint letters on the front spelled: CASINO.
Was this one of the original buildings from the Great Collapse?
“Keep up,” Ansel barked. The man behind shoved her with the hilt of his blade.
Intense heat radiated off the sand beneath her feet. Ansel quickly led her through the camps, and she noticed the people standing by the tents stop what they were doing to stare.
In Desert Spring, a lightness lived behind the walls. A hope for safety and a better future.
But the Sinners possessed a hardness that made her fingers itch for her weapons.
The men and women were deeply tanned and they wore sandy-colored combat gear that blended with the desert.
And each person glared at Khalani like they wanted to carve out her liver and string it up on the barbed fence that encircled the small town.
Unlike Desert Spring, there were no signs of electricity. These people appeared to live in poverty, their faces worn down like they’d never knew a day without conflict.
After a long, blistering walk, Ansel finally halted in front of a smaller blue tent. He let out a low whistle, and a thin man emerged through the flap, fidgeting with his knife.
“Did he agree?” Ansel asked.
The man’s throat bobbed. “Not exactly, sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“He said he wouldn’t help unless the girl was brought to him unharmed. And if a single hair was missing on her head, he would…um…” He hesitated, looking away.
“Go on.” Ansel narrowed his gaze.
“He would remove each of our organs. Tie them around our bodies. And we’d enter hell wearing them like a necklace so demons would never let us rest in peace…sir.”
Khalani’s lips twitched.
Ansel’s fists clenched at his side.
“How sweet,” he enunciated with a tight jaw, glaring at her.
She would’ve paid big money to watch Takeshi’s version of justice.
But when they entered the tent, her stomach dropped.
Takeshi was tied to a chair, reminiscent of the position she’d been in earlier. Blood seeped from a similar gash in his arm, dripping over the ropes binding his wrists. What was worse were the several bloody cuts marring his face.
“Takeshi.” She rushed over and fell to her knees.
“Kanes,” he rasped, relief coating his voice.
But when he noticed the mark on her cheek, his entire body went rigid.
His cold eyes swept over her, slow and deliberate.
And with each fresh injury he discovered, Takeshi’s expression transformed until no trace of civility was left and he looked more monster than man.
The metal chair audibly groaned as he pulled his bindings with unbelievable force. When the ropes looked like they might actually snap, the others in the tent raised their weapons, exchanging uneasy glances.
But Khalani’s gaze cut to a shorter woman. Half her head was shaved, and the other half was intricately braided in brown curls that fell along her cheek.
What caught her attention were the brass knuckles the woman wore…with fresh bloodstains.
She was casually wiping them clean when Khalani launched forward and punched her in the face. Chaos erupted as the woman crumbled to the ground, covering her head. But Khalani didn’t stop. She continued to rain down blow after blow, each more ferocious than the last.
Screams filled the tent, like sharp bullets trying to penetrate her fury. But her vision was lost in a red haze, and she kept punching.
Heavy arms wrapped around Khalani, and someone yanked her back, throwing her to the hard ground. She scrambled to her feet as one of the men helped the woman stand. One eye was already starting to swell, with a bloody cut splitting her lip.
It wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
Khalani took another step forward, but one of the men backhanded her. Her head whipped to the side as a furious roar rang in her eardrums.
She spat out blood, turning to the bald man who’d struck her. His tan uniform was tight around his shoulders, seeming to hang by a few select threads as he stalked forward.
“You dare touch a Sinner?” he hissed.
“I’ll do a lot more than that.”
Movement shifted, and she noticed the younger man who’d greeted Ansel just a foot away. A loose knife hung from his belt.
Instinct overrode logic. Khalani pivoted and struck him in the throat, snatching the knife from his belt. Shocked gasps echoed around her as she adjusted the blade in her grip, preparing to throw.
“Don’t, Kanes!” Takeshi screamed.
But it was too late.
She’d already marked the woman for death. Because it was one thing for them to hurt her. It was entirely different to hurt him.
Before the knife loosened from her fingers, Ansel’s voice rang out.
“Drop it.”
She glanced over as Ansel pressed the barrel of his gun directly to Takeshi’s temple.
Her entire body trembled. But Ansel kept the deadly weapon steady.
Takeshi didn’t move. His hellish gaze raked over her, not looking the least bit concerned over the imminent threat. He seemed to grow bigger in the chair. As if the boiling rage couldn’t be contained in his body.
For once, they were united in the same violent desire.
But Ansel grinned, knowing that he’d found her greatest weakness.
The knife slipped from her fingertips, falling to the ground in a dull, mocking thud.
Ansel kept the gun trained on Takeshi for another second, toying with her emotions, letting her know who was in complete control, before he lifted the barrel away.
“Ansel, we should kill them both,” the bald man snarled, muscles clenching like he wanted to bend her body and break her in half.
“I need them alive,” Ansel stated.
“Why?”
“They’re going to raise the gates to Desert Spring.”
At those words, the room went still.
Ansel caressed the barrel of the gun as he continued, “Once those heretics are erased from the world, we can finally take over their city and rebuild the surface under my rule.”
Khalani would die before she let that happen.
But she needed to escape with Takeshi and return to Desert Spring as soon as possible. To warn them.
“Ansel how can we trust these two?” the man argued, his face growing redder by the second.
“We don’t have to trust them. She knows what will happen if she fails.
” Ansel took a step forward, casually aiming the gun at her.
“Besides, her curiosity will get the better of her. She’ll dig for the truth because she won’t be able to help herself.
And then…she’ll realize we’re all on the same side. ”
Khalani’s jaw ached from how hard she was biting her teeth. If she were on the same side as the Sinners, it meant she was already dead.
“I already agreed to your terms.” She lifted her chin, her nostrils flaring. “Release him.”
Ansel weighed her words for a moment, then nodded at one of the men to undo Takeshi’s bindings.
“You’re seriously letting them leave?” the bald man protested, taking a loaded step toward her.
“Are you questioning my decisions?” Ansel shifted the gun.
The guard immediately lowered his eyes. “I would never.”
“That’s what I thought. Now do as I command before I banish you to the sands.”
The man’s jaw held tight, swiftly moving forward to cut the restraints. But when Takeshi was free, Ansel aimed the weapon at Khalani instead.
“Any wrong move and I’ll put a bullet between her eyes,” he seethed. “And then, I’ll let Samson over there rape your little friend’s dead body.”
Takeshi rose slowly, towering over Ansel.
The tent felt too small and insufficient, like he teetered on the edge of annihilating everyone.
He took one decisive step forward, uncaring of the weapons pointing his way.
He bent and whispered something so low, Khalani couldn’t hear.
But Ansel paled, a noticeable tremor in his hand.
Takeshi’s dark gaze held him for a moment longer, letting whatever he’d said sink in, before backing away.
He turned to Khalani and dashed across the tent. The incensed fire in his eyes softened as he took the whole state of her in, ignoring everyone else.
“You okay?” he whispered, cupping the side of her neck.
Her cheek throbbed and her spiky adrenaline was beginning to dim, but she was breathing, and to be honest, Khalani didn’t feel more alive than in that moment.
“Yeah,” she breathed, staring into his endless eyes that made the whole world around them disappear. She could’ve stayed in that trance forever before Takeshi grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit.
But Ansel stepped into their path.
“Your packs will be brought to the gate with just enough water to supply you to Desert Spring. Head straight west. Try to venture anywhere else and you will die.”
Takeshi stiffened beside her, wrestling with his control. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to rip Ansel apart with his bare hands.
But they were outnumbered.
So his vengeance would wait.
“We understand,” he growled, pushing by him.
“Don’t forget.” Ansel’s cruel voice drifted past them as they quickly exited the tent. “Find the library. You have until tomorrow night to raise the gates.”