Killer Empire

Chapter 10

ADRENALINE PUMPED THROUGH Devora's veins as they fled the scene running, the pain of her wound long forgotten. Their feet thundered down on the forest floor, sending the dried leaves and grass flying into the air whenever they kicked at it a little too hard. Every few steps, Nathan spun around to look behind them, making sure that they were not followed. Thankfully, they weren't.

"We lost them," he panted, breath haggard and labored.

Once he was sure that they were out of danger, Nathan slowed down to a jog before stopping all at once. Breathing out heavily, Nathan blew at his fringe, sending the wisps of brown hair flying a few times before he ran a hand through the strands, combing them backward. His pink tongue stuck out, licking at his dry lips, pearly white teeth showing through the small action. With both of his hands on his hips, he spun around a little, still wary as he surveyed their surroundings.

Somehow through the chaos and madness, they had been blessed by Lady Luck and had won the gunfight. They hadn't emerged completely injury-free, of course, but the damage done to them was nothing compared to the damage sustained by their enemies. While the opposing team had been wiped, all killed, Devora suffered no more than a few additional scratches from when she dodged too quickly. Her skin had scraped against the rough dirt of the ground and the uneven edges of the boulder she had used as a shield. Nathan, on the other hand, had a fresh cut across his left cheek. A bullet had flown too close for comfort, leaving a mark. It would've been fatal if he hadn't swerved out of the way in time.

"Are you alright?" He asked, stretching a hand out to place on Devora's shoulder.

Devora could only nod twice in silent agreement, much too parched to speak. Her throat felt scratchy and gritty, resulting in her voice failing her commands. In addition, with the rush of excitement dying down, the guilt of taking a life came crashing down on her at full force. It knocked her off her axis, causing her to struggle for control over her own emotions.

She had never killed before, of course. There was never a need to. She lived in an average town and led an average life by the side of average people. That was all her life ever amounted to and that was how she thought it would stay. However, her hands were now stained scarlet with sins she could never wash off. Even though the drops of blood had never reached her skin, they were already tattooed in her heart.

"Whew! What a work out that was." Sighing, Nathan withdrew his hand, stretching them over his head. "Can't wait to get back after this. I need a vacation."

Unable to stand properly, Devora dropped to her knees with a thud. Her face grew gaunt, paling with remorse as she continued to stare at her pale palms. In her eyes, they were crimson and not beige. The smell of iron still clung persistently to her clothes, invading her senses. When she looked away from her hands for even just a second, she could see the bodies she had shot down, seven in total; three on purpose, four by pure chance even though she had aimed for non-fatal spots.

Shivering, her entire body trembled. It was the height of noon but it never felt colder than now. It seemed as though winter had arrived early, especially just for Devora and none other because she was the only one that could feel it. Hollow-cheeked and pallid, she kept turning her hands around shakily, as though flipping them a couple more times could wash the stains away.

Her first kill was a man that Devora hadn't even properly looked at. She couldn't even remember his features or body structure. All she remembered about him was that he had walked a little too close with a gun cocked and ready to fire so she had to shoot first. There had been nowhere else for her to run. She had been trapped in a corner and was separated from Nathan by a short distance. If she hadn't fired that shot, he would've, no doubt.