The path was quiet, except for the occasional banter of the crows. If it was one of Miranda's, or just a part of the local murder he couldn't be sure. But his guard was most certainly not down. The closer they got to the ceremony site, the more he worried. His eyes constantly scanned the trees. The woods were usually teeming with Lycans, but Miranda must have sent every last one into his factory, and he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the rage it must have sent her in to know it hadn't made a single damn difference.

Before they walked out the door, he made sure that anyone who tried to visit would receive only the warmest welcome from his favorite failure, his most deadly creation, whom he left to wander the halls. He hoped he wouldn't regret it, that the walking braindead battering ram wouldn't headbutt through something important.

It had taken them longer than he wanted to leave the factory; it was his own fault. After their session in the monitor room, he let her shower and dress while he scraped up some food. It had been a while since the Duke brought his provisions.

While they talked over their breakfast of canned food from the pantry he tried to hide his growing embarrassment. She hadn't complained, just smiled at him over her canned meat and spinach. Spinach, which was so old he couldn't make out an expiration date. Spinach he had dug out of the very back of the food stores, because she looked like someone who preferred green, healthy things. He would have to find something better for her.

Next time.

After they were done eating and gathering what weapons he could find, it had been her to rush him out, and when no excuses remained, he finally had to acknowledge that deep pit in his stomach that had him lingering there with her. That fear of what they would find when they got to that castle on the hill.

They walked close enough to touch, but they didn't. She broke the silence first.

"There are so many."

"Hm?"

She pointed to the bodies lining the forest floor, some partially buried in snow and leaves, some with blood so fresh it still glistened around their throats where it had pooled and frozen. All of his would-be subjects, (either as Lycan's or men when his soldats took Miranda out), all dead. Kids. He turned his head from the sight. He didn't want to think about the role he played.

"Miranda's will." Was all he said, jamming his hands into his pockets.

"So, what was it like, being worshipped?" She looked at him with genuine interest, and he thought about that lifetime ago. Thought of his picture on the alter at the church littered with flowers and coins and trinkets. Miranda's four dark Lords. Her dogs, and the spoils that came with the title. He, more than the others, had taken advantage of it. Well maybe not more than Alcina, though her version of 'body count' was slightly different than his. But either way, he didn't want to answer, because it sounded too much in his head like a different question.

What was it like being the bad guy?

And oh, he was. He had done awful, shameful, disgusting things. Some he didn't want to, some he wished he didn't want to, and some...like the wreck in the woods that killed her partner, he wished he hadn't. Despite it all he never forgot. He told himself he wasn't ashamed for what he had done in all those years. At least, he wasn't until it came to her knowing. His face was a mask, that sly smile he had perfected over the years as he answered her question.

"You tell me, it's only been a few hours." A deflection.

She scoffed. "Shut up. I mean it."

"Highly overrated." It wasn't totally a lie.

"Hm." She gave him a deliciously wicked side-eye. "I'm sure you were popular with the women."

How could he deny that? "Sure, but none were as pretty as you, doll." His tone was playful, and he said it almost reflexively, but his stomach tightened as he realized how true it was. And how temporary it was supposed to be. He didn't have anything left to say, so they walked as quietly as the dead leaves and ice laced ground would allow.

Keep her. Keep her.

And suddenly without him realizing it, to his horror he was speaking out loud. "Listen, swee...Celia. I want to ask you s–"

But she pulled back, shrinking from him. Her eyes took on a look of terror. "Oh my god." Her words were barely a whisper. "No."

Confused, he opened his mouth to ask what, why - but she cut the question away with a swing of her arm to his chest, freezing him to the spot as she stared at him.

No, not at him.

"Chris." It came out as a whisper, then a scream. "Chris!" She was looking past him to a figure hulking towards them. If he didn't know any better from this distance he looked just like a lumbering villager, skulking around the trees. He wouldn't be surprised if there were survivors.

"Celia, wait." His hand found the wrist that lay against his chest. "You don't-"

"Chris!" she screamed again, losing her composure in a way he hadn't even seen when she was staring death in the face at the hands of hundreds of drooling Lycans. The palm of her free hand pushed hard against his chest, and before he could stop her, she was twisting out of his grasp and sprinting past him into the arms of another man.

xx

While the wind whipped air around her, Celia couldn't seem to pull any of it into her lungs. She was hyperventilating; her chest was heaving with the effort to keep oxygen moving into it. Tears were streaming down her face...was this the first time she had cried? She suddenly felt so aware of every bruise, cut and scrape littering her body and the heaviness of it made her sag in his hold, barely registering his arms tensing around her body as he stroked her hair. His eyes ticked to Karl, but neither man spoke as her breath caught enough to push out the words. "Yo- you're alive. Oh my god, Chris is it really you?"

"It's me." His hold tightened before he released her, his fingers gripping her arms and pulling her closer to his face as if to answer her question. Those deep brown eyes stared back at her. It was him. But it wasn't. His face was tight, eyes red rimmed and tired. Had he been eating? Sleeping? Tortured? He still smelled the same, under that hint of copper she hoped wasn't all his.

"What happened to you?"

"I was knocked out. One minute I was with Miranda, and the next...and the next I was chained up in some dungeon. I have no idea why she didn't just kill me while I was out. I was able to escape-"

She took a step back from him, towards Karl where he stood behind her. "Did you kill her? The woman at the castle?"

"No. I didn't get the chance to. I need to go back though." He opened his mouth to say something, yet no words came out. His brow furrowed. "I'll need to go back and finish the job. But that's not important right now. Celia. Is anyone else..."

"No. When I woke up, I only saw James. He didn't make it."

His face was ashen, and he nodded solemnly at her. He knew how close they had been. "We need reinforcements. We need to get out of the village and contact BSAA." He looked almost ashamed as he spoke the words.

"Chris, BSAA are you sure we should...call them?"

"What choice do we have? We need to get back to the van and call."

Celia shook her head in disbelief. "Aren't you listening to me? The van is destroyed." Celia pleaded with him.

"Who is he?" Chris suspiciously eyed the man who stood at least half a foot taller than him.

"He's a friend. He's on our side." Karl moved from behind her and leaned against a tree a few feet from the pair, arms crossed.

"Hm." Chris rolled his neck "Miranda was ready for us. They took out all our supplies...we can't go after her without reinforcements."

"We have reinforcements." She turned again toward Karl, who had been terribly quiet. Chris eyed him suspiciously, but the Lord didn't appear to notice, or care. "We all have the same goals here."

The energy in the air stiffened around her, growing thick and volatile, crawling from the space between the two men. She stared in Karl's direction, desperate the catch his eye. To reassure him, and herself. A few more tense seconds pulsed by when he finally spoke. "You two, get back to the factory. I'll get Alcina." He slipped on his glasses and a plastic smile.

Now it was Chris who chimed in. "Are you kidding me? Alcina? Isn't that the crazy bitch at the castle? The castle I just escaped?" His eyes darted to Celia. "Who the hell is this guy!?"

For an instant, Karl's features darkened, and his face took on a hardness that Celia had not yet seen, not even when he had been inches away from murdering Ethan. She was standing close enough to him to make out the dark pupils of his eyes which seem to pulse and expand. She felt a pulse of pressure, the smell of static and she instinctively stepped back from him. His gaze flicked in her direction, at the sound of her weight on the dead leaves and suddenly, it was gone. His face lit up, and lips twisted into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as they fixed on Chris over his lenses.

"Alcina fucked you up pretty good, huh? You can relax kid, you look like shit. Can't send a boy to do a Lord's job. I'll go tame the dragon –"

"Lord? Are you serious Celia! Do you even know who the hell you're dealing with?"

"Chris, it's not-"

Slowly, they were closing the distance between each other. With each cocky remark, another step too close. She hoped Karl wouldn't do something she would regret.

"Listen, you gave it the good ol' college try buddy, but we're a little busy here. Why don't you limp back to the factory and lick your wounds while we take care of the rest."

"Huh, those are pretty tall words coming from one of Miranda's lap-dogs. I know exactly what you're up to." Chris pulled out his knife. Karl didn't so much as blink in his direction.

"Cute coming from someone who just slipped their leash. Guess those whores of hers got bored of you."

"What the hell did you just say to me?" Chris twisted from Celia's grasp and stepped towards Karl, anger flaring. She didn't see it happen, but in an instant the knife that he had held in his hand vanished, lodged in a tree on the side of the clearing.

Celia eyed Chris carefully as he almost vibrated with anger, uncertainty flooding her. That last dig seemed to really set him off. He seemed wild, unstable. His skin looked clammy; with a pallor that made her feel uneasy. His face was gaunt as his jaw tensed, and she trailed the flaking, dried blood from his face to his arms and finally, to the gash in his forearm. The wound was bandaged with a gauzy, brown stained material that looked like it belonged shrouding a rotting corpse and not packed against a fresh wound. He must have lost a good deal of blood. She could make out the small beads of sweat that dotted his forehead and cheeks.

Karl must have seen it too, because he chimed in, "Woah, easy there soldier! Just making small talk!" And just like that, it was as if Karl wasn't about the finish the job Alcina started. It was impossible to read him. His tone was too smooth, the way his words drawled off his tongue like they were laced with poison. The way he spoke to her when they first met.

"Karl, maybe we should all head back together. Maybe –"

"Ethan isn't after you two," he interrupted, his voice turning serious again as he continued to look at anything but her. "...he's looking for us. I'll be fine." Now he stared at Chris as he repeated the command. "Go."

"But what about weapons? We –"

He pointed to the castle and peered over his glasses to stare intently at him. "WE are the weapons."

Celia knew it was true, understood that Chris was basically dead weight in this state yet her feet stayed while the injured man ambled over to the tree Karl had nearly split in half with the force he used to rip the blade from him, and he tore it out with feigned ease.

"I said go." His words were low and clipped, said only to her.

Get out of my way.

Twigs and leaves snapped as she fidgeted, her weight shifting as she navigated the uncomfortable territory of someone just informed to get lost. She almost responded when she felt a gloved hand take hers and pull.

But despite seeing Karl turn away towards the castle, her body moved towards his as she adjusted to the feeling of standing between these two men who suddenly felt like strangers. Even when Chris tucked her into his body and walked with her in the opposite direction, the tug in her chest burned with the words he had whispered to her that morning now taking on a different meaning.

'This is the way it should be.'