[18+ COMPLETED] BOOK 2
A war that destroyed the world. It came and it went, leaving death and chaos in its wake.
In the resulting turmoil England has split into four regions, a safety measure that was 'essential' to ensure that violence would not r...
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Walking down the same dark corridor as every other damn day, I find myself ignoring the Enforcers, having become strangely used to having them around. That doesn't mean to say I'm happy with it - their presence cropping up in my nightmares every single night before I'm thrust back into the cold, dark cell at Killmoor.
And it happens every single night. Without fail. Even though I've never even seen any of these Enforcers before.
They only seem to swan around the mansion, so maybe... they aren't as bad as the shits in the North.
Maybe.
Or maybe I'm just a fucking idiot.
Gritting my teeth, my eyes dart to the blonde Enforcer standing at the left of the corridor. She shoots me a warm smile and I fight the urge to return it, instead ducking my head and continuing on my way.
I don't need friends here.
Come on, Zac. This is the fucking enemy.
A sudden yell has my eyes widening and I launch into action, sprinting down the corridor. My heart is racing in my chest, panic surging through my veins at the terrifying sound coming from my younger sister.
Of course we aren't safe here. You're a fucking idiot.
I should never have left Poppy on her own. Never should have left her side...
Another shout tears me back to reality as my hand curls around the door handle at the end of the corridor and I throw the door open, my eyes scanning the room.
It's huge, an area that probably used to be the Great Hall that dominated the entire mansion. Fucking parties were probably thrown in here. Dark wood lines the walls and the ceiling is vaulted, higher than any others in this place, windows fill the far end of the room from floor to ceiling, bathing the deep mahogany floor with light.
Apart from that, the room is surprisingly empty.
Apart from three man shaped targets that are propped up at the far end of the room.
Gia and Poppy stand three metres away from me, facing the targets, knives in hand. Darting my gaze back to the target, I see that one of them has a knife sticking out of their fake skull. Fantastic.
Poppy whirls around at the sound of the door. "Zac! I finally hit the target!" She squeals, grinning as I take a step further into the room.
"I thought someone was fucking dying," I grumble, slouching against the wood panelling behind me.
"Just a war cry," Poppy retorts with a smile.
"She's always been a drama queen," Gia pipes up, smiling at me before looking back at Poppy. Our older sister's dark hair is tied up in a ponytail, swinging back and forth as she walks, shiny as ever as her pristine look makes its usual appearance.
