Bruce nodded, the white of his eyes stark against his darkened skin. Like her, he’d rubbed ashes onto his face and wore black clothing. Camouflage. They couldn’t afford to be seen by anyone. Or even worse, caught. That would mean the end of the Rebel Faction.
“We’re ready,” he replied in a low voice.
Up ahead, the guards scrambled in a sudden panic. They milled about for a few seconds before the squad leader directed them to the wall. The siren could not be ignored. It meant that a large predator was attacking the city, the kind that brought death and destruction. Everything else paled in comparison, even the harvest.
The moment they left their posts, Moran gave the command. “Move out.”
In single file, they ran toward the building. Their boots tramped across the rough stones that formed the road, and their empty backpacks flapped on their shoulders. The storage facility was neither large nor imposing. It was just a simple square formed from rough bricks and concrete. A temporary holding place until distribution could take place.
Flaming torches lit the area with golden light. They flickered in the breeze, forming weird shapes against the walls. The wooden doors were sturdy, and the lock fashioned of solid iron. Bruce examined the lock before calling on one of his team. “Bear, this looks like a job for you.”
Bear stepped forward. At six feet eight inches tall, he towered above everyone else. His arms and shoulders bulged with muscle, and his legs looked like tree trunks. He stared at the lock and grinned. “Make room.”
Moran stepped aside and watched with grim fascination as Bear lifted his weapon of choice: A hammer that would’ve made the god of thunder himself jealous. I doubt even Thor could lift that monstrosity.
With an animal grunt, Bear swung the hammer. It whistled through the air, driven by every ounce of strength he possessed. The massive head connected with the lock in a shower of sparks. Metal debris exploded outward, and Moran gasped as a shard grazed her cheek. Hot blood ran from the cut, dripping onto her collar.
Bruce cried out with alarm. “Are you okay?”
Moran nodded, one hand pressed to the wound. “I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. What about the door?”
Bruce grinned. “Bear never fails. It’s open season.”
Moran returned his smile. “Then we’d better get moving. The alarm won’t sound forever, and the Watch will realize soon enough, it’s fake.”
“I don’t know how you managed to arrange it, but it was genius,” Bruce said. “Not only did it draw away the guards, but it will cover any noise we make.”
“Maybe, but not for long. We’d better hurry.” Moran pulled two hatchets from her belt. Razor-sharp and lightweight, they were the perfect weapons for her.
“Let’s go,” Bruce shouted, waving his men forward.
They stormed inside the storeroom, pausing only to grab a couple of lit torches from the sconces. Moran brought up the rear, and they spread outward in a rough circle. She searched for the pallets of fruit and vegetables they’d come to steal. They needed that food, and so did the poor that relied on the Rebels. Those that had neither the jobs nor the skills to feed themselves. The forgotten, as Moran called them.
But there was no food.
No harvest.
Only cold steel and the fierce eyes of strangers out to kill.
Moran stood rooted to the floor, her worst fears realized. They were trapped, surrounded by a wall of death. She counted at least fifty guards, and each held a spear or a crossbow pointed straight at Moran and her people.
A tall figure stepped into the light of a nearby torch. His eyes remained in shadow, but his triumphant sneer was plain to see. General Sikes. “Drop your weapons.”
“Or what?” Moran asked.
“Or you die,” General Sikes replied.
“Perhaps, but we’d take a lot of you with us,” she said.
General Sikes shrugged. “Make my day.”
“Death doesn’t have to be the only option,” Moran said, attempting to reason with the General even though she knew it was futile. I have to try. For Bruce. For Bear. For everyone.
“It is for you unless you surrender.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way. Surely, we can come to some kind of agreement,” Moran said, her voice steady despite the terror that leached into her muscles.
You have nothing to bargain with, woman. You’re outmanned and outgunned. Can’t you see that?” General Sikes said.
Moran swallowed, her gaze flickering from Bruce to her team. Men and women who were loyal to the cause. They were her responsibility, and she couldn’t let them die because of her. “Let these people go, and I’ll surrender. There’s no need for bloodshed.”
The General laughed. “Why would I do that when I’ve got all of you? You’re trapped like rats in a cage.”
“Please, they were only following my commands. I’m the one you want,” Moran said.
Bruce shook his head. “No, don’t you dare.”
The General’s eyes narrowed. “You’re their leader, I take it? The infamous Moran.”
“I am,” Moran said, lifting her chin in a gesture of defiance.
“Well, Moran. Either you drop your weapons and surrender, or you die,” General Sikes said. “All of you.”
Moran closed her eyes. It was over. She knew it. Whether they fought or not, they were doomed. It would either happen here or in a prison where the walls would echo with their screams. “Bruce?”
Their eyes locked, and a sense of knowing passed between them. Bruce nodded, the gesture so slight only she saw it. We fight.
Moran tightened her hold on the two hatchets, her muscles tensed in readiness. “General Sikes, I accept your terms.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You surrender?”
“I do,” Moran said, stepping forward.
General Sikes frowned. “What about your men?”
“They as well. I ask only that you treat them with kindness and mercy,” Moran asked, taking another step.
“We’ll see,” the General replied. “Now, drop your weapons. I won’t ask again.”
“Of course,” Moran said,
