Page 46 of V for Vindictive

That’s my ticket out of here.

After ensuring no one was nearby, I made my way over to the door and keyed the code Donna gave to me into it, hitting the buttons hard enough to satisfy my frustration. The light blinked green before I dragged the heavy door open and slipped inside the room.

It was definitely a far cry from the rest of the place. Little trinkets, a horde of papers, and a laptop littered the mahogany desk off to my left. Books were organized into a shelf behind the desk, all with long medical titles I hadn’t any hope of pronouncing. Each one worn-out by excessive use, their spines broken in by long hours spent poring over the pages.

It was clear she took her job seriously, though I wasn’t too sure how that made me feel knowing it was people like me who they experimented on. But Donna’s office was cozier and a much more loved room than the rest of the place. It definitely had character, and despite not really knowing the woman, it felt like her everywhere I looked.

As I grabbed my militia-grade clothes—black military boots, dark pants with pockets for days, leather jacket, and several body belts to hold my weapons—I changed out of the hospital gown I’d been wearing. Looking over at a single picture frame on Donna’s desk, I noticed the smiling faces of two small children held in the arms of a woman whose beaming blue eyes hit me right where a memory lived.

It was the same woman in my dreams, crying at our doorstep and begging for Grams’s forgiveness. She’d been on her knees, mascara running from a never-ending stream of tears, expression riddled with the strongestgrief one could feel, and all I remembered was reaching out to her, doing my best to comfort a sad woman when I was barely out of diapers.

Donna.

The little faces next to what I now concluded was Donna were her carbon copies, and I didn’t need to be Sherlock to know she probably meant her kids when she asked me to get them to safety. She was a mother. Yet, Donna was out there trying to rectify something that wasn’t her damn fault. I mean, not really. All while two little kids relied on her to come home.

I’m not going to be the reason she dies. No one should grow up without a mother like I did.

I slipped several throwing daggers into my belt and then, eyes widening, took hold of a sword I’d recognize anywhere. Its beautifully crafted handle had several jewels imbedded into silver, and the design of it was absolutely one of a kind.

Blood Slayer.

How did they get this from him?

For sure I’d imagined the Austrian going to the grave with this sword before handing it over to anyone, and something nagged at me to see it here. Something told me its presence was significant.

The lame-named sword glinted as I lifted it from the wall. Swallowing, I eyed the spectacular craftsmanship, wondering how I’d spent all this time with Phillip and never truly looked at it. Not even while he rambled on about its fantasy origin story. Even now I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how a grown-ass man had droned on about its history and how it came into his possession.

It was literally the stupidest shit Phillip ever uttered, and that was saying something.

I strapped it to my back, determined to get it back to the man it belonged to, and tied up my hair. Right now, I didn’t have time to reminisce or think about Phillip; it was time to get the fuck out of this prison.

Sneaking back out of Donna’s office, keycard tucked into my pant pocket, I crept down the hallway, listening for anything that could give me a hint to where she’d gone. Then the low howl of a siren filled the air, causing me to freeze.

The door wasn’t far. I saw it in my peripheral vision, but as I listened, I heard Donna’s distinctive cry, one that was all pain.

Some would argue I should’ve escaped for the greater good, because if I stayed, I risked being recaptured, and that would mean the Organization—rather, Lux—won. But that wasn’t the Hunter I wanted to be.

Hell, it wasn’t the person I wanted to be.

Donna had a family, kids and maybe a partner, who needed her to come home, and I’d be damned if I let her sacrifice herself over guilt. Mom wouldn’t want it that way. At least from what I knew about her she wouldn’t.

I removed the sword from my back, cranking my neck from side to side and hearing the telling cracks. Then I flitted down the corridor into the room where Donna’s scream had come from. She was already surrounded by four Hunters.

Cowering, she clutched a wounded, visibly bleeding arm, but her eyes quickly found me when the door smacked open, nearly breaking apart with the strength I put into the maneuver.

“Oh, good. I was worried I’d miss the party,” I said, huffing petulantly.

Shit, I’m starting to sound like Phil.

The four Hunters pivoted, and magic radiated from them as they withdrew their respective weapons. One went for a large sword the size of his torso, growling, and for a second, I could literally hear Phillip’s voice in my head, cracking small D energy jokes right before he sliced the brute to pieces.

“That’s the girl!” another one said.

Captain Obvious over here saving the rest of them from having to brain too hard, I guess.

“I’m not really a fan of being imprisoned or people who hurt others to be quite honest, so I guess this is where you and I are at an impasse, my dudes. Either leave now or die here.”

I really needed to invest some time into writing better lines. Even I cringed hearing the soap opera dialogue leaving my lips. Phillip was always so much better at delivering badass lines. Same with Kris and Sloan. I, however, sounded exactly my age—like I’d trained at Disney.

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