.o Blood to Thaw o.

Evelyn POV

The two Girls in front of me were getting closer, and I was running out of stage.

Behind me, I could hear Clara talking to Grant as she dodged his advances. In front of me, the two Girls were trying to corner me. It was a simple move to avoid, but I couldn't keep an eye on Clara while doing it. Why she couldn't simply get out of the way I didn't understand; she was just adding an obstacle.

I'd been fine before she launched herself off the balcony and into my fight. She'd been safer with Alyson. Why did she always have to make things like this difficult?

"Eva, I think Ally needs help."

I glanced back where Grant was failing to catch the little Pixie, dodging a kick from one of the Girls. "Too bad. I'm a little busy at the moment."

Clara jumped in front of me, nearly getting smacked by the dark-skinned girl. "But she almost stabbed Zach."

In front of me, Cameron gasped. In the little lovesick Girl's hesitation, I reached forward and twisted her arm back, gaining the better position in our chaotic dance. Always so emotional. She stumbled forward as I kicked her in the back. The hairs on my neck raised, and I turned just in time to block the other Girl's next strike.

"Eva, do you think Ally's okay?"

Twisting out of the Girl's grip, I glanced at Clara, who was now perched on the catwalk twenty feet above us. I didn't particularly want to know how she got up there in less than a minute. "Alyson hasn't been okay in weeks." None of us have. I scowled at how hard I was breathing. Simply because I could beat these girls didn't mean it they weren't a challenge. My entire body ached dully, some area throbbing where strikes had landed. Clara wasn't helping either, dangling by the ropes supporting the light fixtures and surprisingly, a few old props from forgotten plays. Giant fake stars and clouds dangled above us. There was even a faded crescent moon abandoned in this old place, left behind.

Even cheery, little towns disregarded things they deemed useless. No one ever keeps anything unless it will help them. Do something for them. There is never such a thing as unconditional.

The girls were talking to each other, but I didn't pay enough attention to understand whatever language they were using. I did notice, however, when they began to back away from me. My body tensed, and then I heard the haunting sound of old, rusted metal and rotting wood bend and break. I had a split second to discern which direction to move because the curtains and their masts were falling.

The giant walls of red and dust were folding in on themselves, creaking and swaying as they hit the stage. A plume of dust and rotten wood chips floated through the air, stinging my eyes. I barely made it to the back before the falling wood shredded my skin. The stage trembled as the masts and lights tumbled down after the giant wall of fabric.

Our exit was effectively cut off, and so was all thought of getting to Alyson. Not that it'd ever been an objective in my mind. In the corner of my eye, I saw Clara running down the now somewhat unstable catwalk to someone else. I ripped my focus away from the boy who'd just trapped me with the two Girls trying to kill me, refusing to acknowledge him here.

Said Girls were already closing in, trying to cut off any escape routes left, and as much as I hated it, their strategy was working. In a few minutes I would be forced to fight, and while I knew the Gallagher Girls wouldn't be a threat, I couldn't count on getting Clara out of here too. Stupid, delusional Pixie.

Bravo, Alyson. Your brilliant plan is about to get us thrown in a cell again, or worse.

"Come on, Eva. Let's do this the easy way."

I didn't want to turn around. I didn't want to know how I'd let him get behind me. I refused to look at the traitor at my back. Shards of ice were already working their way through my chest. Wounds I hated were aching, and I wanted, no I needed to make every pain vanish. Every icicle needed to melt, and I'd found out long ago blood was the most convenient heat source.

The right blood could fix any problem. The right blood would make any pain go away. It'd worked with the Circle members. It'd worked with Her. It would work with Cameron and all her little friends. It would work with the traitor behind me.

He grabbed my arm from behind, but I was already moving. A side step and swift kick to the leg had me towering over him. As I shoved his head into the old wood on the stage, hoping he got splinters in his eyes, my own were raking the surrounding area, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

It wasn't loud enough to drown out the boy's voice though.

"Eva, you don't have to do this. I don't want to hurt yo-"

I twisted him around with a speed that even surprised me. My knife was at his throat in less than a second, but my eyes stayed on the girls steadily getting closer. "Shut up!" I hissed. "You don't care about me. You don't know what I have and don't have to do. You don't know anything, so shut up before I kill you right now."

Instead of responding, Grant glanced up at the Girls. "Cam, listen to Zach." The girls stopped moving, almost looking confused, but I could tell their focus wasn't on me anymore. It was on whatever was going on in their ears.

Newman moved his attention back to me. "Why haven't you killed me yet, then?"

My eyes dropped down, and it was the worst thing I could have done. Newman wasn't glaring, or scared. There wasn't anything in his expression but a strange mixture of sadness and something else. Something I didn't want to think about.

Possible answers to his question were racing though my mind. Because Ally told me not to. Because I want it to hurt. Because you're not worth it. None of them were true. None of them explained why I couldn't make myself apply the small about of pressure needed to end his life right now. My brain couldn't understand why I'd all of a sudden become weak.

I nearly jumped when Clara's voice rang out above us.

"Ally, you're okay!"

The Gallagher Girls in front of me snapped back into reality, both glaring at the girl I guessed was approaching from behind me. I didn't know how she got past the barrier of wood, fabric, and metal, but if she could get in, we could get out.

"Let's go, Viper." I turned my head in surprise. She sounded out of breath, which wasn't abnormal, but the apprehension and tension in her command were. Her hair was a mess, and the way she stood told me there was more wrong with her than her voice. Her eyes flashed when I didn't move immediately. "Now!" she hissed.

Just like that all the concern and confusion evaporated on the spot.

I narrowed my eyes, dragging my knife down Newman's arm to make sure he didn't jump me the second I stood up. He hissed slightly, but my focus was on the Gallagher Girls in front of us who were talking into their comms as they got closer. Above us, Clara was weaving in and out of beams and props.

Alyson kept glancing back, her feet ready to run at a moment's notice. When I was done with Newman, she cocked her head towards the far back corner of the stage behind the Gallagher Girls. "There's an exit behind them. It's the only one we can take."

"Where's Zach?"

She turned away. "Focus on getting out of here."

The Girls were watching us carefully, but no one was moving. I could see the taller one glancing at Grant, but I knew she wouldn't move to help him yet. Not until we were in their custody. They weren't stupid. Caging a wild animal had risks, and the closer they got to us, the slimmer the chances either of our groups would get out of this unscratched.

My fingers tightened on my knife. I didn't want to get out of here unscratched. I wanted to take these Girls down or die trying. I wanted this stage to run red as the fallen curtain behind us. I wanted the icicles to melt, the pain they caused to thaw.

Behind us, shouts were being exchanged. I glanced back to see Zach and some other guy close our last option of retreat. Beside me, Alyson looked ready to bolt. She was nearly as bad as Clara, always running.

"Alyson-" Zach started, but his sister turned her back to him, craning her neck to look at Clara above us.

"Clara, let's go!"

"Alys-"

A knife flew by his head. I turned to Alyson, but she was already running. Zach yelled something, but neither Alyson nor the Girls acknowledged him. I doubt the Girls were expecting Alyson to simply run around them.

Expect the unexpected can only prepare you for so many things. One of them isn't normally a trained assassin running away like a ten-year-old.

Hissing through my teeth, I glanced at Clara, who would have the hardest time getting out of this. Something was wrong with Alyson- more than normal. She wouldn't leave Clara; she wouldn't just run- not like this anyway. She'd been running from a confrontation too long. Ignoring the people closing in on me, I glanced up at the girl singing in the rafters.

She was staring right at me. I blinked. She held up a rope.

My confusion must have shown on my face because she pointed back to the catwalk, where the main controls of the rotting props were. A grin spread slowly across my face as I understood what she wanted me to do. It was simple. A precise throw would bring down the dangling props and let us get out of here. The scene was familiar, too familiar.

If you would have sliced the rope, you wouldn't have been caught.

My throat tightened, but I was already shoving my way across the stage. It didn't matter Zach was yelling at me. It didn't matter that I might have dislocated one of the Girl's shoulders. In less than a minute I was in a position to throw. My hand tingled, the knife steady as I found the perfect target.

One centimeter is the difference between cutting a rope and nine months in an asylum.

Alyson was nearly to the door. Clara looked ready to jump. The only sound in my ear was the rushing blood to my head. Clara crouched forward, ready to lower herself to the ground. I nodded at her once before letting the knife fly.

For one paralyzing second, it was simply hurtling through the empty air.

Then the rope snapped. The prop fell, taking another down with it, and another, and another. The noise was terrible, but my focus was on the girl laughing above the chaos. The girl who wasn't jumping down from her perch.

"Clara!" My voice ripped through my throat of its own accord. Ahead of me, Alyson was snapping at me to hurry up.

Clara grinned at me, swinging her legs over the edge of the teetering catwalk as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was happening around her. In a simple gesture, she waved me ahead, telling me to run. She'd done it before, multiple times. She always followed right after me, but this felt different.

"Viper, move!" A hand was pulling me, nearly ripping the sleeve of my shirt. A harsh voice was hissing near my ear. The stage was starting to shutter from the impact. My heart was in my throat, thoughts flying faster than I could keep up. My feet stuttered along, forced to move in order to stay somewhat balanced. One of the last clear memories of that moment was Clara saluting us, before launching herself into a flip. She tumbled twice in the air before landing on her feet among the remains of the props.

Right in front of her traitorous cousin.

...

Within five seconds we were out the door. The ground was making my head spin. My unfocused vision finally started to clear twenty yards from the building. The sound of feet pounding the ground was the only sound in my ears besides Alyson's growls to move faster. Every instinct in my body was reeling its head, fighting for control.

Don't get caught.

All for one.

Every man for himself.

Never leave a member behind.

Protect.

I nearly tripped as my heels dug into the ground, my voice ripping through my throat. "No!"

Ahead of me, Alyson stuttered to a halt, glancing back at me with wide eyes. I didn't give her a chance to respond to my outburst. "Stop running! I won't do this again, Alyson!"

"Go back then! I'm done with them." she snapped, her hands shaking. I did a double take and realized she was only wearing one glove, the scarred skin pale compared to the rest of her arm. I didn't take the time to wonder how she lost the glove, or what it took to take it off.

I pointed at the building that no doubt would soon be pouring with agents set on tracking us again. "Your cousin is still in there!"

Alyson took another step back. "You saw her. She knew what she was doing!"

Breathing was becoming a difficult task, each exhale burning my throat. "So you're just going to leave her to be taken again?" The yells weren't helping the pain in my throat, but I couldn't keep any quieter. "You're just going to abandon her-"

"I am not abandoning her!" There was suddenly a gun pointed at my face. I wasn't aware she had a gun. In a second she seemed to realize what she was doing. She lowered the gun, eyes wide, chest heaving with every breath. Her hands were still shaking. She almost looked... afraid? What the hell did Zach do to her?

Alyson shook her head slightly. "I'm not abandoning her. She chose to stay behind. She chose to separate from us." I wasn't sure if she was trying to convince me or herself. She looked down at her bare hand, curling and uncurling her fingers. "They won't hurt her. Zach won't..." Her voice died in her throat.

Confusion and anger stirred in my chest, bubbled right below my skin. A hundred things were running through my head, but only one made it to my mouth. "What the hell is wrong with you, Alyson?" I growled, pointing at her with a knife.

"Nothing." Her eyes steeled, every wall she had going up.

"Bullsh-"

"Shut up! You haven't listened to me for weeks! If you have a problem with what I'm doing then you don't have to stick with me. You're just mad I'm not letting you kill someone."

I almost choked on the rage that was threatening to tumble through my teeth. I'd never wanted to attack Alyson, never wanted to see her bleed, until now. "You're leaving your family behind-"

"What do you know about family?" She seemed to reel back as soon as the question left her mouth, but it didn't matter. I was already lunging.

Everything was a blur of red hair, my own blonde, leather and the glint of knives. No one ever tells you that when you're fighting, you have nearly no idea what is going on, that your brain relies completely on instinct and muscle memory. Your mental state must be stronger than your opponent's.

Alyson and I started training together when I was ten. Our instincts were practically identical, and neither of us was in the best metal state. So when I sliced through her shirt, and blood started running down my leg, it wasn't too much of a shock.

A high pitched scream knocked our surroundings back to the forefront of our minds. Fifty yards away, a group was watching us, jaws dropped, phones up, recording us. A rosy-cheeked blonde was clutching a boy's arm, her hand over her mouth in horror.

Cursing under my breath, I staggered back, my hand gripping the stinging cut on my thigh. It took me a few seconds to reach for my knife, now coated with red. Blood could fix anything. Melt the ice. Thaw the pain. My chest still ached, but my senses were going haywire. I glanced at the girl in front of me once, then I was running. Away from her. Away from the building, and the people inside. Away from the source of the pain, the truth that everyone leaves.

No more.

It was my turn to run. My turn to leave.

As I broke through the woods, my breathing steadied into a fast rhythm. The cut on my leg was still bleeding slightly- I would have to fix it soon, or else my own blood would leave an obvious trail.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the entrance to the underground safe room. Luckily, Alyson had missed any veins that would have made running without passing out difficult.

The room was nearly pitch black, but there was nothing to trip on. I could hear things scurrying away from me as I found the string dangling from the dank ceiling. The weak light clicked on, revealing a small room with stone walls, concrete shelves on the walls, and a small bundle of rough fabric sitting atop a creaky metal cot. I didn't linger on the memories that hid in the cracks on the walls. Instead, my focus was on grabbing the gauze in one of the concrete cubes in the corner and wrapping my leg.

My body was aching, and my throat still burned. I refused to think about who Alyson had just left with her brother. Who I had just left. It didn't matter. I sucked in a ragged breath as the ice splintered, piercing my lungs. My grip tightened on my knife.

This was all those Girl's fault. They took Zach away. They took away my only security. They were driving everyone insane. They needed to be erased, obliterated. The ground needed to run red with their blood. Blood to fix. Blood to thaw.

Pacing around the small area, something caught my eye in the small cubicles on the walls. A slow, wicked grin spread across my lips as I picked up the small vile. Maybe I could skip blood just this one time.

I sat back on the cot, excited for once in a long time. For the first time in years, I was following my own orders. It was my turn to attack, my turn to plan. My turn to take revenge on those who deserved it. Blood would taint this world.

And no one was going to hold me back.