Her Shadows

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

AMELIA POV

My hair whips in the wind behind me, lashing my neck with the strands as I speed through the shadows. With a backpack secured across my back, I peer at the blurred trees and barely lit bitumen, rushing past my motorcycle so quick I can barely make out more than colours and hazy shapes.

The road ahead of me stretches for miles and as I drive further and further, the lights dim to an almost pitch black. Not even my headlights are strong enough to light up more than a few rocky metres ahead.

My speedometer continues climbing, the sound of the engine blaring into the silent night, disrupting the eerie quiet with grumbles and revs.

Finally, my target building appears through the cracks of wilted tree branches. I quickly slow, my bike growing quieter... slower.

Parking in the thick brush of the forest, hidden behind the ample bush, I remove my helmet and shake my hair out before tying it into a tight bun at the base of my neck.

As I begin to walk, I hear the faintest disruption of leaves beside me. Glancing down, I see the smallest shimmer of a snake skin dart through the foliage. Remaining calm,

I watch the snake travel the same path I am following myself. I watch as it slithers through the forest, sneaking past the wildlife, careful not to disturb a single branch or leaf.

My attention is pulled from the viper as the blinding glow of lights set alight the peaceful greens into blazing yellows. The enormous concrete block building so out of place amongst the bush. A male guard stands at his post before the metallic door that leads inside.

I continue to sneak toward the door, slithering toward the entrance. I take the snake as inspiration as I too slip into a killing calm.

I am the embodiment of a predator.

Like the snake, I stalk my prey and ready myself for the impending fight. Climbing a tree, I shuffle along the branches and just like that snake as it finds its prey on the ground, I pounce. Jumping down directly where the Guard stands, I manage to land brutally on his shoulders, quickly wrapping my knees around his neck and covering his mouth.

I feel his breath huff against my palm in a stunned scream as his knees buckle from my weight and he crashes to his stomach. My own knees jar at the impact, but I pay it no mind. The Guard remains winded, but his body quickly fights against me as he flails and shakes. I press my thumbs into the soft skin behind his ears and within a few seconds the shaking ceases.

I jump off his back, dragging his limp and unconscious body to a nearby tree out of the security camera's sight, and remove his clothes and quickly changing into the uniform.

Whilst it's much-too-large and ill-fitted, I manage to make it work with a few hair ties and tucking the excess shirt into the pants, before rolling up the ankles and shoving them within my own boots.

No use in having ill-fitted boots that will only succeed in clumsiness.

Leaving the Guard in only his boxer shorts and shoes, I generously lay his jacket atop him, deciding only to wear the dress shirt.

I then slip into the persona I must portray – a bored and yet intimidating security officer – and move toward the entrance.

~~~

My platinum blonde strands swish back and forth slightly with my steps. The wig itching slightly.

I walk without trouble through the winding corridors, past a sea of robotic eyes. Their boots slap against the tile, their gloves crinkling and stretching as they fiddle with their tight uniforms and cufflinks out of boredom.

I feel my bones creak and skin buzz as I mirror their behaviour, my whispering steps turning to obnoxious stomps. Feline grace morphing into stocky brute.

Whilst this appears effective to the majority, a particularly burly man decides to mark my presence. With a questioning squint of the eyes, he beckons me over and asks to see my badge.

With feigned boredom, I rip it from my chest, readjusting the bag on my shoulder, and hold it toward him, looking around with exasperation. In the corner of my eye, I watch his hand twitch toward his radio, and with a now empty corridor, that movement becomes his undoing. My bag drops to the floor.

A slam of my palm into his jugular knocks the wind from his lungs.

A punch to the diaphragm, he doubles over.

A roundhouse kick to the temple and he's out cold.

Within seconds I disarm him and am dragging him toward a nearby janitors' closet.

Cliché, I know.

Stepping over his limp form, I retrieve my bag and continue my journey. Finally, the metallic door comes into view, along with the three expected guards. Two stand on opposite sides of the entry with the third leaning against the concrete wall opposite them, with one foot propped up and arms crossed.

They await their fourth guard, a female with platinum blonde hair, always pulled into the same tight ponytail I now adorn, to arrive for her rotation. Her post being past that allusive metallic door.

She finally arrives and just as she crests the corner, I drop into a side lunge, swiping a leg out and knocking her to her knees. I quickly straddle the lady and go straight for the neck as my bag slides out of reach.

However, it seems the woman has training of her own as she manages to flip us round and pin me to the floor.

I allow her two punches to my nose.

One for her cleverness.

And a second to watch that sweet, sweet victory alight her eyes as she believes herself the winner.

Oh, how I love to rip that away.

I catch her fist before a third blow can be made and twist harshly, quickly covering her mouth with my hand to muffle her groan of pain. The woman tries to bite my palm, so I grab her hair, pull her head back violently and feel those platinum strands rip from her skull as I flip us once more and slam her skull into the concrete.

Tiring of this amateur duel I press two fingers into a joint between her neck and ear and watch as her eyes roll into her skull, knocking her unconscious.

I drag her to that same closet my last victim currently resides and prop her against a wall. I reach for a paper towel on one of the shelves and wipe the blood from the floors and retrieve the abandoned bag. I then blow all the blood out of my bruised nose and try not to wince at the bursting of pain behind my eyes.

I quickly run my fingers along the bones.

Barely fractured. No bruising, thank the lord.

Once satisfied the bleeding has stopped, I wet a towel with disinfectant and wipe the guard's hands and ensure no trace of my DNA is left behind. I slip a pill under both their tongues and leave them to their nap, where they will oh so unfortunately wake with no memory of working today.

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Ok I literally just broke my nose in a car accident a few weeks ago and then Amelia fractures her nose as well! Twinningggg

Anyone else ever broken their nose?

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)