Another chapter is here! :)

I was a bit unsure about this one - I don't know how many times I've rewritten it so far, but it's quite a few. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Now, on with the story!

Chapter 9: Death sentence

"Daddy! Daddy, look!"

Four-year-old Lynne bounded up the corridor into the kitchen, her eyes sparkling with energy. A slightly crumpled piece of paper was clutched in one of her small hands, and she held it up proudly. Her father smiled, bending down and taking it from her. The little girl beamed as he studied the colourful, messy drawing.

"This is beautiful, Lynne," he said, caressing her frizzy brown hair. "What is it?"

"That's you," she exclaimed eagerly, pointing to a round-faced figure with black clothes and big feet, "and mummy, and Tiger…"

A short woman with a huge smile, rainbow-splotched dress and pointy, long hair stood next to the person who was meant to be him. Above them something that more resembled a black and grey cloud, which he presumed was Tiger, their cat, could be seen, along with a bright yellow sun.

"I love it," her father responded in a warm tone, handing the drawing back to her. "Go show it to mummy, and then we can hang it up on the fridge."

Lynne nodded enthusiastically, before practically running out of the room, calling for her mother at the top of her voice.

:::

"What do you mean it's too late?"

Her father's features contorted in worry as he listened in on the voice on the other end. Still, Lynne didn't hesitate but opened the door and trudged in, a notepad under her arm and a pencil in hand.

"Daddy, could you help me with my homework?"

He glanced up, covering the receiver with one hand.

"Not now, Lynne," he said in a low voice, before returning to his previous conversation. "Look, I'll pay you back, I just need more time…"

"But dad-" Lynne interrupted again with pleading eyes, but her father hushed her once more.

"Please, I'll be out in a minute, just hold on, okay?"

Lynne nodded dejectedly, closing the door quietly behind her as she went back to her room. Her father's voice became more and more desperate from inside the office.

:::

Her parents were arguing again. She could hear them through the walls of her bedroom, yelling at each other in increasingly loud voices.

"This isn't about the money! The truth is, I'm scared for you: can't you understand that?"

"Then what do you want me to do? Call the whole thing off?"

"Yes!"

"You know I can't do that."

"Listen, this organisation is dangerous, and what they're asking you to do is insane. If you go through with this, there's no coming back and you know that!"

"Why does it matter all of a sudden? I've been in this for years!"

"Because this time it won't just effect you! You have a family! A daughter! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Lynne threw the sheets over her head, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She didn't move until the muffled yelling had subsided.

:::

This time the fighting was different. There was less shouting, but still the air managed to be possibly tenser, perhaps even threatening. But as usual, Lynne didn't pay much attention, only turning up the volume on the headphones to drown it all out.

That was until she heard the scream. High-pitched, bone-chilling and painfully familiar it cut through her like a knife, jolting her up from her laid-back position against the wall. It seemed to go on for ages, before suddenly stopping: something that terrified her even more.

Throwing everything from her hands she bolted out of her room and into the living room.

"Mom, dad, what's goin-"

Her heart stopped.

Nothing could have prepared her for the scene in front of her. In shock, she looked up at her father, who met her gaze. Emotionless. Cold. Unrecognizable.

She couldn't breathe. A wave of nausea plummeted over her as she stumbled back, knees weak, eyes wide. A vase – the one she had got for Mother's Day – shattered deafeningly to the ground when she collided with the coffee table. Rough shards cut into her knuckles as she tried to support herself, but her arms proved to be too weak. Suddenly she was on her back, the brightly coloured ceramics mixing with her own blood as she tried to.

Remember.

How.

To.

Breathe.

:::

She shook her head, closing her eyes to clear her thoughts, one hand gripping the other hard. Letting out a shaky breath she didn't know she'd held, she turned back to the boy next to her, who was watching her with concern.

"The organisation – M.I.S.T. – changed him. Slowly at first, but as the years went by it became more and more evident. Something had snapped inside him. I thought, naïve as I was, that he was just stressed out or something, but then one night I saw the other, true side of him when he… he…"

She cut herself off abruptly, supressing an involuntary shudder, unable to continue. Quiet settled between them once more.

The wind whistled quietly in the trees outside. Through a small gap between the blankets covering the windows Henry could make out the silvery silhouette of the Moon. It was well past midnight by now. He leaned forward and hugged his knees, ignoring the slight stinging sensation in his side as the sore area rubbed against his legs.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "You know, about your dad becoming an evil jerk and all that."

She diverted her gaze in an uncharacteristic moment of shyness, nodding thankfully. Yet another moment of silence followed. Henry drummed his fingers against the other hand.

"So," he began, unable to bear with the tension any longer. "… what happened the other day? After our… um… weird first run-in?"

"Come on, it wasn't that weird," Lynne argued, her cheeks turning slightly pink at the memory.

"Yeah, it was. Totally, utterly insane levels of weird," Henry insisted in a light-hearted tone, making the girl huff and roll her eyes. Still, she couldn't help the small smile creeping its way over her lips, but it soon faded away.

"I was held captive," she replied briefly.

"Oh," Henry nodded, a look of confusion coming over him just a moment later. "Why?"

"They wanted to know…"

She cut herself off and jumped to her feet, so abruptly that Henry startled at the movement. She spun on him with a sharp gaze, looking completely different from the emotional girl who had sat next to him just moments before.

"Do you still have it?" she pressed, her voice becoming sharp and urgent.

"Uh… the what now?"

"The flash drive," Lynne clarified impatiently.

"THE flash drive?" Realisation dawned on him as quick as the words escaped his mouth. "Wait, the one I had in my pocket for no apparent reason? You put it there?"

Lynne nodded. Henry parted his lips, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece everything together.

"…I don't have it," he said finally.

"What?" the brunette cried, panic entering her voice. "Then who does?!"

"My best friend, Charlotte," Henry held his hands up defensively, gesturing for her to calm down, "She took it home to examine it."

Lynne's face paled, and she began to pace through the small room, wringing her hands anxiously. Her voice was no more than a whisper as she mumbled to herself:

"This is bad, this is really, really bad…"

"… Okay, I'm so confused right now," he admitted with a frown. "What's on the USB that makes Charlotte having it so bad?"

"It's some of M.I.S.T.'s top secret files," Lynne answered shakily, not stopping her continuous crossing the room. "I downloaded them from my dad's computer without his knowledge, but he found out and sent two of his henchmen after me – the man and the woman you saw, pretending to be my cousins. I knew I'd be caught," an apologetic look appeared in her eyes, "so I did the first thing I could think of: smuggled it to someone else."

"Me," Henry filled in, nodding in understanding. "But what does the flash drive have on it? When we looked through it, we only saw a bunch of stories with messed-up letters."

"That's the thing; I don't know," Lynne said miserably. "It's some kind of code, but-"

"Ha! In your face, Ray!" he interrupted, beaming. "How do you like them cheesecake recipes?!"

Lynne looked beyond confusion at his sudden outburst, raising her eyebrows expectantly towards him, but Henry waved it off. The whole thing would take way too long to explain, and besides, it didn't really matter now.

"It's a long story, just go on," he instead exhorted.

"O…kay," she replied and cleared her throat. "As I was saying, it's some kind of code, that much I'm sure of, but I haven't been able to crack it. All I know is that it's very important. So important that M.I.S.T. would resort to violence, even murder to retrieve it." She looked him grimly in the eyes, the previously lighter mood in the room gone. Her voice was barely audible as she tried to keep it from quivering, "A-and if they find out that your friends have it…"

Henry swallowed thickly, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as a shiver ran down his spine.

"…They will have targets on their backs," he finished her sentence quietly.