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run to help her but skid to a halt as Father raises his sword and plunges it into the stomach of one of his own soldiers. As the boy falls to his knees, his helmet slips off. Not a soldier. Inan.
It wasn’t that quick…
He stumbles back in pain, unprepared for a lethal blow from my sword.
Was it really lethal though?
Father trips. This is my moment, a chance to end our endless dance. Do it now!
And that means she’s not going to do it…
First Mama, then Baba, now me? “We can’t leave him,” I gasp. “How do we bring him here?”
Didn’t you hear what she just said? You’re not dead hun.
