Snowbird [18+] ✔️ Complete

| XXXI |

It was the twenty-eighth day.

Ashelin wound her long red tresses into a tight bun on the back of her head, and clipped a holster around her waist. The sound had an air of finality in the quiet room.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and barely recognized herself. Her toned and scarred body, hard expression, dark desperation in her eyes.

This was it.

Her door slammed open, and Yuma stood there, eyes wild. "Little fucker just blew up the statue. He's on his way up here."

Ashelin gaped at her. "Where's Pagan?"

"In the dining room with some fresh crab rangoon." Yuma rolled her eyes. "Everyone else is gone. We have to get the chopper ready."

"Everyone is gone?" Ashelin gasped. "It's us against an army?"

"No, the army is partying down in the fortress." Yuma started walking, and the redhead jogged to keep up to her. "It's boy wonder all by himself driving up here."

"That's it?" Her head spun. "Shouldn't we have been down there?"

"This is how Pagan wanted it," came the stark reply and Ashelin stopped short.

"You knew this was going to happen?" she cried. "What was the point of all the fucking training if all I needed to do was wait in a helicopter?!"

Yuma turned on her, eyes aflame. "I didn't trust you. But Pagan needed a cause to live through this." She sneered. "And I needed a punching bag."

"Fuck you!" Ashelin spat, and lunged at her, catching her around the middle. The two women hit the floor hard as Pagan stepped into the hallway.

He watched the flurry of fists and screeches for a moment before clearing his throat. "Ladies."

They both froze and looked up at him, hair askew.

"Our guest of honor has almost arrived," he said. "Save this for later, hm?"

They grudgingly stood up and Ashelin aggressively unraveled her bun with a grunt.

"So what's the plan, then?" she muttered.

"You're going to dine with us, while Yuma gets the chopper ready." Pagan clasped his hands in front of him.

Yuma scoffed. "Of course," she muttered.

They followed the king to the dining room and she faced Ashelin before they parted ways.

"Do your job," Yuma snapped.

"Worry about yourself," Ashelin hissed, and slammed the door in her face.

Ajay Ghale moved slowly through the empty palace. Could Pagan really be here alone? Or was he walking into a trap?

He turned down a hallway and caught a glimpse of candlelight and pink. He raised his gun and slowly moved into the dining room.

There he was. The bastard himself. He sat primly at the head of the table, next to a dented painting of his own smug face.

Ajay glanced at a woman he'd never seen before, sitting to Pagan's left. She looked irritated. He ignored her, gun trained on the King's face.

"You could shoot me, but that would be boring." Pagan was cool as a cucumber, and Ashelin was in awe at his calm. "Sit. Enjoy the crab rangoon. We'll chat."

Ajay's blood pounded in his ears. His grooming from the rebels made him want to pull the trigger.

But this man had known his mother. And he wanted some answers. The rebels regarded his father like a god, but he'd begun to distrust that information.

He sat down in a huff and the woman visibly relaxed. He eyed her carefully.

"Ajay, this is Ashelin. Ashelin, Ajay." Pagan sounded gleeful. "I bought this lovely from some pirates just for you, but it turns out that she needs to go home to her own King."

She regarded Ajay with an unreadable stare. He was young and handsome, but war hardened. She wondered what he'd been like in America before Kyrat spattered him with blood.

"Are you a prisoner?" His voice was soft, but abrupt.

"Not anymore," Ashelin replied. "Eat, will you?" She was anxious to get this moving along.

Pagan smiled as Ajay took a tentative bite.

"I told you when we first met that I would take you to scatter your mother's ashes." He leaned forward. "I would still like to do that. She deserves to be with Lakshmana."

Ajay's pupils dilated. "With?"

"Lakshmana was your half sister, born to your mother and I." Pagan explained. "Your father killed her in a fit of jealousy, and in turn your mother killed your father. She took you to America to shield you from this life. But here you are."

A tense silence fell over the room as Ajay absorbed the information.

Ashelin blinked at Pagan. He'd had a baby daughter, murdered by his lover's husband. Her heart ached for his pain, and she understood better why he was so damaged.

"Take me to her." Ajay produced an urn from his pack, and all three stood. Ashelin followed at a polite distance as Pagan led him towards a small hut outside that she'd never been in before. It must be Lakshmana's tomb.

Once Ajay was safely inside, Pagan closed the door, and stood with his hand on it.

"We have to go," Ashelin said gently.

He turned sad eyes on her. "I wanted the four of us to be together again."

"You are now." She extended her hand and he took it. He grinned and gave it a squeeze. They took off for the chopper in the distance and Yuma lifted off just as Ajay exited the shrine.

"Kyrat is yours now!" Pagan yelled from the helicopter door, waving his arm in farewell. Ashelin watched the man's stunned face as they flew away and Pagan sat next to her and smiled. "And off to make Rook Island yours."