Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Thirty-Four | Fourth World

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The tension had increased in everyone's shoulders. More news had flooded in depicting the brutality of Hawk's ways of gathering information. No clan was now safe; whether few or many Hawk would raze them to the ground in the name of his beloved deity.

While those who could fight grew increasingly eager by the day, those who would need to be protected felt more vulnerable than ever. But the thing they all had in common, was that they looked to both Falcon and his uncle for instruction.

People were assigned to groups. And you didn't have to be a genius to figure out the trend. Finch noted the figures that filled the groups from one through five. Each comprising of men who were built like Falcon was. Each and every one of them solemnly nodded their heads and some turned to their loved ones to reassure them. There was no determined age bracket, with one or two faces appearing to be the same age as Finch.

But as Fyre went on, sorting through the groups, Finch grew sour. He accepted that he wasn't going to be part of the muscle group, but as the leader went on to list the groups who would remain underground, Finch was named among them. Someone who would stay behind and monitor the conditions of those in hiding, and to help anyone who returned injured.

The older man who considered himself the primitive equivalent of a chief of medicine, was the happiest Finch had ever seen him. The old sod had been badgering those in charge to let him stay safe within the confines of the tunnel. He repeatedly told them his worth and how much worse off they would be if he was killed. Either out of understanding, or irritation, Fyre and Falcon unanimously decided to have the man shelter underground.

Everyone seemed to accept their positions, even those who potentially hoped they wouldn't have to fight were in silent understanding. Knowing that they had to somehow contribute. And it's that exact feeling that fuelled Finch's displeasure, who felt like he had been sidelined.

With the meeting concluded, Thorn approached the person he had found himself attached at the hip with for the past few days, and found that the little bird was sulking. He could hazard a guess why that was, and tried his hand at consoling him. Which was responded with by the little bird waiting for him to turn his head before disappearing. Thorn looked around, seeing many bodies filling the space as they made their way to the exit, and huffed.

Meanwhile, Finch was making a beeline for Falcon.

The man was sparing a few words for those who had questions, but was otherwise leaving the area where the meeting had been conducted. He towered over the women who flocked to speak to him, but was experienced enough to know how to pluck an excuse from thin air and flee.

In order not to waste his time, the women didn't follow. Instead offering him well-wishes for the rest of the day. But just like the many other reasons that made Finch the odd one out, he was persistent enough to trudge after the man. And it didn't take long before he was spotted.

Falcon turned his head and fixed those alluring silver eyes on him. An eyebrow quirking but not giving Finch enough time to speak to him face to face. The co-leader of their somewhat clan continued to walk away from the bustle of the crowds, but never walked fast enough where Finch would struggle to keep up with him.

"Why have I been put underground?" Finch ripped the bandage off as he looked up at Falcon's broad back as the man conducted some chores. He nodded his head to a few people who greeted him, all of their gazes falling to the youth nipping at his heels.

Falcon hesitated when a woman dropped a bundle of material she had been carrying. He came to a stop and picked them up for her, earning a grateful smile from the elder lady. She even patted him on the arm lightly before moving on. Only then did Falcon glance over his shoulder in order to offer a response, "To protect you... just like the rest."