Page 260 of Seasons of War
A breathy gasp cracked the quiet between them. His eyes met hers, round orbs.
The captain wavered, curled in on himself, and collapsed on his side. This was real. She’d hurt him badly.
Miya crawled to him, taking the rough handle of the knife. Flashes of the terror he’d unleashed upon her burned in her chest, the old pain mingling with the new.
She thought of the thud of his boots thrashing Lance’s body. His fingers digging into her shoulders. Hands choking her.
His lips twitched, tears pouring from his eyes.
Miya locked her other hand over her own and put her weight against the weapon, forcing it deeper into his body in jerky thrusts.
“P-please...” Pain twisted his expression. He screamed so hard his voice gave out.
Digging her knees into the dirt, she used both hands to twist the blade. It was harder than she expected, and she grunted, fighting against the resistance of his flesh.
Finally, after all he'd done, he truly suffered.
Miya ripped the blade free and fell back from the effort.
Blood oozed from his gut. He drew a hand over his wound, the tip of his pinky and a chunk of his ring finger sliced off.
Blood and burns covered his body.
She eased forward, knife pointed out like a sword to his neck, and dug his keys and phone from his pocket.
His voice was so weak that she had to rely on reading his lips. “Please…”
Please? This person who’d never shown another soul mercy expected it from her.
“Are you sorry?” Her hoarse voice crackled like the flames behind her.
He nodded.
“You are?”
“Yes… Please… Miya...”
A laugh wrenched from her chest. The kind that shook her shoulders and brought tears to her eyes. “You’re sorry.” She struggled to her feet, her knee throbbing. “Liar.”
“Please…”
“You deserve this, Christopher. I should kill you. I really should.” A sob choked her voice. “Because of you, all the men like you, forcing your sins into me, I don’t feel good or pure.” She stumbled a step back. “I won’t put myself through one more moment of questioning for you, not even to give you what you have coming. I won't let your death haunt me. I can't stand giving you that kind of place in my life.”
Miya turned her back on him. He might die out here. She didn’t have the medical experience to know for certain how much time he would have. Only that he couldn’t catch her.
“Enjoy your time with the United if you survive.” Miya threw the blade through the air as far as she could, losing sight of it in the night sky.
It sounded nice in her head: abandoning the captain to bleed out, begging her for his life, dying beside the cabin she’d burned to the ground. Such fantasies kept her going most days. But this wasn’t a fantasy.
Nothing could change what the captain and all the others had done.
Nothing.
Not vengeance. Not forgiveness. Not even justice.
Miya limped toward the van. Flames ate up the cabin, bright in the night sky.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough until she lived in a world where people didn’t rely on fantasy to imagine freedom and safety.
