Underdogs

THIRTY-EIGHT

❝Let me tell you the secret that has led me to my goal. My strength lies solely in my tenacity.❞ — Galene Everhart

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Chapter thirty-eight:

THE KING OF THE WALLS

The wound on her back burned as she was pushed forward, and she bit her lip to avoid wincing or showing discomfort — any sign of weakness would not benefit her, especially in her current situation. Yet Galene couldn't ignore the blinding pain shaking her body; the feeling of her skin stretching and separating from her muscles with every breath she took would be enough to send her to her knees had she not landed on them already.

Darkness was her only friend when she opened her eyes, and she resisted the urge to scratch her face until the skin peeled off. The bag they had used to hide her from the world caressed her cheeks in the most unpleasant way; the ridged fabric poked at her neck and open wounds that had appeared during her fight with Uri.

But Galene needed no light to know where she was.

The marbled floor felt cold against her hands, which were still bleeding after having scraped them on a gravelly wall in the underground. Although her eyes only met murky endings wherever they looked, there was a distinctive lack of excretion and humidity in the air.

"You don't look so good, Uri."

At the unfamiliar voice, her muscles tensed. The sketch of a smirk touched her lips, however; her fight had been short, albeit intense. While her body was adorned with bruises and gashes, she was satisfied with the amount of pain she'd caused on her opponent.

"You also took longer than expected," the same voice claimed, and there was a hint of a threat that didn't fully see the light. "We were starting to regret sending you instead of Kenny. But the king was adamant on his request, and he gave that troublesome man another task."

"After all, he's the only one who can get his hands on Levi Ackerman," added another man curtly.

A short exchange of meaningless words took place between the men in the room, but Galene had spaced out the moment his name had reached her buzzing ears. Her mouth became dry as a rare wave of uncertainty sprouted from deep within her, and panic was soon to follow.

For four years, she had wondered about the possible reactions of the corporal upon finding out she was alive. But as the moment of truth neared, Galene realized she wasn't ready to meet his eyes — the betrayal, the confusion, and the hurt swimming in them.

But on the other hand, a pang of longing filled her. Deep inside, she knew she couldn't fool her heart by repeating how those moments they shared meant nothing — she wished it were that easy. She craved his presence like a missing part in a puzzle, like the air that she breathed.

As her hair was grabbed through the bag to pull her head upwards, the woman was broken out of her train of thoughts and she chastised herself for getting distracted. Her short hair fell in messy waves around her face when light was finally allowed to touch her cold skin.

For a fleeting moment, Galene could only stare into those rays of comforting sunlight as they crept inside the room through the window. Pure air filled her lungs when she breathed in; nostalgia and relief intertwined within her as she stood awestruck beneath a blanket of warm light. So long had it been since a similar experience filled her senses that she had almost forgotten how it felt to be outside; away from the smell of rotten food and cigarettes, from the suffocating embrace of damp air and the cold glares of artificial lights.