The Grey Blood #2

Selfish Desires

The train is moving slow enough for Alicia to stagger along beside it, her palm pressed against the weeping wound in her gut and her other hand outstretched towards the sluggish carriage beside her. She curls her fingers around the cold metal handle on the side of the train and heaves herself on-board, rolling along the slats with a pained gasp, the hard press of them aggravating every hurt that writhes beneath her skin.

There's no moment for her to rest, to catch her breath and evaluate her injuries. She needs to keep pushing forward. Her world is condensed to continue dragging breath into her lungs and continue to put one foot in front of the other. Everything else she'll spare a thought to when she finally lays down to die.

Getting up, Alicia focuses on her path ahead through the train and nothing else. The pain doesn't matter, the ache in her lungs is irrelevant, the fear that claws at her throat can wait.

She realises her path to the capital might not be so simple when the platform beneath her feet ceases its rhythmic rocking. As she glances out the carriage door she came through, she notices that the train has stopped moving. Her goal presents itself and she knows what she must do.

Get the train moving, get to the capital. It's all that matters.

She touches the heart in her pocket, reassuring herself that it's safe, before she limps forward.

The train is filled with crates of supplies, some she knows Oliver had brought with him from the capital, but others form a crease between her brows. The wood is partly rotted on some of the crates, aged by the elements, clearly not taken from the sheltered walls of the capital.

Alicia doesn't have much more time to ponder it as she makes it into the next carriage and comes to a halt, her gaze meeting the blue eyes of Grayson.

Several sights lock onto Alicia like she's a rabbit that's wandered into the wolf's den, reeking of blood, sweat, and fear.

A smile curls Grayson's lips. "It seems we have a stowaway."

Alicia yanks the gun from her belt and aims. She thumbs the hammer as the men around her point guns at her.

"Thank you for giving me another chance to kill you," he says, his features darkening.

Alicia lifts her chin, refusing to be intimidated by him. But she sees his face as he leered over her in the stables of the Commons, she feels the burn of his bullet that had sunk into her stomach.

Her gaze flicks to the other men, her breathing quickening. She can't take them all on, she knows that with certainty, but she needs to protect the heart, get it to the capital and make sure she won't destroy the man she loves by curing the world. Otherwise, this all would have been for nothing.

Before she can think to answer, pain flares in her chest and she coughs. There's blood, splattering the boards of the carriage, stark against her pallid lips. Her chest aches as she bends over and tries to draw breath between coughs, her lungs rattling, her insides burning. There's nothing she can do but blink the tears from her eyes and wait for it to subside.

When she finally lifts her head, Grayson is grinning at her, malicious and cold. "You got it from him?"

Alicia can barely lift the gun as weakness makes her fingers tremble, and aiming it is out of the question.

Grayson turns to his men. "Make sure no one else is here," he orders and his men nod before exiting the carriage, leaving her and Grayson alone. It doesn't comfort her. "It's just you and me now, Alicia. Let's finish what we started."

Alicia backs up a step as he advances, heaving in breaths with her weak lungs.

The Reaper's shadows linger in his gaze. She's seen enough men look at her the same way to know there's nothing he won't do in this moment to kill her. She's taken too much from him for words to fix this.