𝕌𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 [𝕂. ℍ𝕖𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕘]

Chapter 14

 A horse insignia was engraved on the lid. The word torso along with the name Rose were both labeled on the side. Y/n held the rectangular container to the light. Beyond the opaque, golden liquid, she found a white crystal, just as Heisenberg had described. 

 She could hardly believe the little shard was a living baby. Even more incredible, Heisenberg had explained that the infant was not only safe but also had the power to pull herself together and return to normal. Then again, ever since she stepped foot in this village it seemed nothing was impossible. It gave her an unsettling feeling. She returned the flask. A tremendous amount of guilt stabbed at her heart. “I don’t like this.”

 Heisenberg took the container. His free arm wrapped around y/n’s shoulder and he pulled her to him. She picked up the scent of motor oil that seemed to have permanently stained his clothes. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

 “It’s creepy.” Y/n hugged Heisenberg. Her cheek pressed against his chest. She couldn’t take her eyes off the flask. “Do we have to keep it here with us?”

 “Miranda says I’m supposed to guard it.” Her heart sunk. She wasn’t one for superstitions but the flask unnerved her as if it were a bad omen. Y/n couldn’t imagine having it in the factory with them. 

 Heisenberg placed a set of fingers under her chin and lifted her gaze to him. He slipped the flask in his coat. Her face heated as he pulled off his glasses. He gave her a partial grin. “But for you, sweetheart, I can put it somewhere else.”

 Hearing Heisenberg’s promise to keep the flask elsewhere took the weight off her shoulders. She stood on the balls of her feet and kissed his cheek. Y/n whispered in his ear. “Thank you.”

 Heisenberg ran his thumb down the center of her lips. She felt herself grow flushed as she noticed the slight grin on his face had grown. He motioned his head to the door. “Throw on a coat. I think I know where I’ll put it.”

 Y/n walked side by side with Heisenberg. Today felt colder than usual. She pulled her sleeves past her hands and listened to the freshly fallen snow crunch under their steps.

 He continued to keep the flask out of her sight, holding it in his pocket. Heisenberg spoke about this morning’s events, catching her up on everything she had missed while she slept. The sun had not yet begun to rise and so much had happened already.

 He left the factory right before she had gone to bed to collect his fraction of the baby, Rose. That, she remembered. Y/n hated sleeping without him. She felt safe when he was around. Her mind couldn’t cling onto every small creak and go wild if he was next to her.

 Heisenberg had a smug grin on his face as he continued. He captured a foreigner that Miranda had identified as Rose’s father. Heisenberg spoke with excitement. Y/n clung to every word, listening to his retelling of how he killed him with a contraption he had built under the stone church years ago. She loved hearing such enthusiasm in his voice. Y/n encouraged him to keep taking and inquired how the device worked. Heisenberg described it in detail, comparing it to a grinder.

 Y/n had exciting news of her own. She finished her composition. After months of writing and rewriting, tears and emotions poured onto the blank pages and piano keys, and she finally deemed it performance-ready. If her time with Heisenberg from their first words to the present had music to it. This is what she thought it would sound like. 

 The only thing left was to play it for him. For now, though, she was keeping it to herself. Today seemed like it was going to be a busy day.

 Y/n hadn’t seen the village in person since Miranda had placed the kill order. What was once a thriving community was now desolate. Her heart ached over the loss of life. An eerie silence filled the empty space. Y/n anticipated Lycan growls or some sign of surviving livestock. Instead, she heard nothing. She could taste the smell of burned wood and blood permeating the air. She recognized the path they were taking. It was the same one leading to Michael and Christina’s farm. Y/n’s fingertips brushed against her wrist, almost feeling the bruises Heisenberg’s tight grip had left behind.