Open fire [Romance]

Chapter 6

          One second.

          Two seconds.

          Three seconds...

          Silence stretched with each passing moment. No one dared to move, they were even breathing silently while standing next and behind Christopher and Elizabeth. Both were staring speechless at the tied up prisoners that were barely conscious. What ran through their minds no one knew. Yet no one wanted to ask, but they patiently waited because sooner or later one of them would have to speak up and say something.

          The three men that sat in the uncomfortable chairs bounded to them ignored the sudden burst of doors. The presence they felt around them reeked of power and they wanted to seem small. They can't take it anymore, the constant torture they survived from the Devil and his minions was more that enough, but this was just too much, maybe because these people mean real business. The bastard that call himself the leader of North America was soft on them in comparison to these people who have a strong will for survival. It's obvious that these are the Resistance but what chance did they have of them believing them that they aren't on the bastards side when they have been caught during patrol in his uniforms.

          Christopher stood there frozen in place at the sight while Elizabeth looked at him with worry. He was marching with obvious determination just a minute ago and now he turned paler than a ghost. Her eyes flickered from him to the men bounded by the rope on the chairs in front of her. There was one man, not older than twenty-five, dirty blond hair, crooked nose, bruised cheekbone and a black eye, also looking a bit slim, not very muscular but more athletically built.

          The second one had died blond hair. A little more beat up in the face than the other one, definitely a broken nose, busted lip, bruised face in more places than one. His uniform was also ripped in some places where she could see scratches and some deeper wounds.

          The third one... the third one made her make a double take when he moved slightly. That's when she realized that Christopher wasn't looking at the group because of their health state, but at that one individual.

          He looks so familiar... the sharp jawline, the black hair, wide shoulders, large physique...

          "Cyrus." Christopher breathed out, braking the sharp tranquility.

          Elizabeth looked at him carefully, noticing his cold, rigid posture. Slowly she moved her gaze back at the small group. The two blonds were looking at them in question while the third dark haired one stiffened with his head still down. More seconds ticked by making the anticipation grow even more intense. She could feel something dark grow, it was hard to pinpoint what, but it was there, floating in the air around them.

          In that situation she felt like a surplusage, like she wasn't needed in that moment there. Though not once did Christopher comment on that. If anything he even moved slightly towards her, almost insensibly. He stood partially in front of her, as if shielding her from the men in the room that were tied up like they were the words criminals.

           That's when he moved.

          Slowly he raised his head, his facial lines coming into view. A light gasp  left her lips when he leaned fully back in his chair, sizing Christopher down with a cold glare of his own. The deep dark brown orbs screamed danger as he glared daggers at the leader.

          "Christopher." The man, Cyrus, acknowledged him in the same monotone voice. His eyes raked over his body, studying him deeply. That's when he noticed a slight movement behind him. It wasn't much, but the way the small beauty moved her delicate head to look at the leader caught the prisoner's eye.