Page 3 of Born to Bleed

Then the Resistance barged into her compound and shot all her plans to shit. And, before she could even regroup, Hayden practically took her hostage and forced her into helping them. Granted, she was kinda already doing that in a way, but it was her choice and he took it from her. Just like the UNR had.

Damn the UNR. Damn the Resistance. Damn Hayden.

Her heart squeezed just a little in her chest as the man finished his explanations; she’d asked all her questions, and only their labored breathing filled the silence. She hated this part, but she knew what she had to do.

The man sitting before her was responsible for plans to kill hundreds of innocent people. Plans that would’ve succeeded if the Resistance hadn’t intervened and stopped them. This was a bad, bad man, tied up and begging or not, and he had to be eliminated, for her safety and the safety of countless others.

If she let him go, the best possible case scenario involved him running back to the nearest UNR-controlled district and aiding them in an attack on the Resistance. Personal gripes aside, the Resistance had a lot of innocent people under their protection, and if Anna had to choose a side to support—assuming her own wasn’t an option, of course—it would have to be theirs.

More likely scenario? He’d murder Anna the moment she cut the ropes. The man was twice her size, given the same training she’d been given, and spewed the line “I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch” more times than she could count before realizing just how good Anna’s knots were. Of course, he began singing a different tune at that point. He’d kill her, probably slowly considering she’d taken his finger, and more importantly, his pride, and then he’d go right back to the UNR to help them imprison, torture, and slaughter more innocent people.

As much as she’d like to think otherwise, Anna didn’t have a choice. There was only one option here.

“I’m going to cut your ropes, now. Don’t move.”

He let out a sigh. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so mu-” She stabbed her knife into his skull, killing him instantly. Painless, quick, his last thoughts filled with hope. It was a merciful death in this world. Far more merciful than the death he’d have handed her, had she let him go.

The guilt of each kill weighed heavy on her mind, only fueling her rage. She would have her revenge, and nobody in this world would get in her way.

? ♥ ?

Hayden glared at his weapons cabinet. His private collection housed plenty of guns, from a handgun he could squeeze into the smallest pocket on his cargo pants, to a sniper rifle that was longer than the length of his torso.

It didn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t need a gun for today’s excursion.

Instead, he grabbed a small switchblade to tuck into his boot, just in case he ran into some unexpected trouble, and a pair of metal handcuffs he’d found a couple years back. Rope was usually his go-to for containing somebody, but the cuffs were quicker for today’s purposes.

He shut the cabinet, then moved to his mirror. A black shirt hung from the corner, long-sleeved and insulated, fitting him like a second skin. Even better, it, like all his shirts, had a pin sewn into the sleeve in the event he wound up in cuffs; Hayden prided himself on being prepared for anything, after all. He chose all his clothing to be perfect for hand-to-hand, which he suspected he’d be engaging in today.

Anna had stolen from him and run in the night. She wouldn’t return easily.

Then again, he wouldn’t want it any other way. Something about her fight was… refreshing.

Pulling the shirt over his head, he patted his pockets once more. Handcuffs, check. Knife, check. Keys, check.

His gaze lifted, meeting his own stare in the mirror.

Blue eyes stared back at him, reminding him all too much of his mother’s eyes. God bless her genetics for winning over his father’s. He’d often imagined how awful it would be to stare into the mirror and see that man looking back at him. Instead, it was his mother’s eyes he saw.

The scars that littered half of his face, however? Those were the handiwork of his father. As was the blank stare he’d seen in his mother’s eyes on the days before he’d lost her.

He swallowed the tiny taste of resentment that splashed up into his throat, and then turned away, heading to the door. He had a job to do after all, and he’d already given Anna a generous headstart.

Why? He wasn’t too sure. Part of him liked the hunt. Enjoyed the thrill. The other part wanted her to know that it didn’t matter how long she’d had, he’d always find her in the end. She couldn’t escape him, and it was time to stop trying.

More importantly, she shouldn’t try to escape him. He, along with the rest of his people, were trying to help. They were fighting the same battle she fought, and yet Anna still insisted on fighting it alone.

It tried his patience, defied all logic, and worse, it would get her killed.

Hayden had seen enough innocent life lost. More than any one human should have to witness. Anna’s name would not be added to that list.

The air outside was cool, but not as bad as it could be this time of year. The wind had a sharp bite, not anything he couldn’t handle. As a leader in the Resistance, he’d often faced harsh conditions with minimal comforts. Jackets, even sweaters, restricted movement far too much. Plus, they gave your enemy something loose and easy to grab on to.

Hayden wasn’t big on giving the enemy any more advantage than they’d brought themselves.

His brothers may have taken up some more comforts since taking the compound, but aside from the occasional sweater or hot bath, he didn’t plan on it. Until they’d taken the entire country back, he’d be waiting for the next attack. Even then, he doubted the decades of combat experience would just disappear from him.

This was his life. Constantly observing, weighing risks, and always, at any given moment, ready to fight.

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