Blood & Honour [Book Four of The City of Eternity Series] [✔]

4.6: Officers

As I stand in the corridor; the light bouncing off the white walls and reminding me of just how little sleep I'd procured the previous night, the echo of Dhana's footsteps reverberates through the halls, a chilling reminder of the fate that awaits her. Each step she takes seems to drain more life from her, her once vibrant spirit now reduced to a hollow shell. She walks willingly, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped in resignation. It's as if she has already made peace with her impending death, a thought that gnaws at my conscience.

My heart clenches at the sight, a mix of sorrow and frustration boiling within me. I want to reach out, to shake her, to remind her of the fire that once burned so brightly within her. But I am rooted to the spot, my own fears and doubts chaining me in place.

As the guards escort her down the corridor, something unusual catches my attention. An officer, his armband a couple of shades darker than mine, steps forward and whispers to the guards. This man, a high-ranking official, stands out in this lower level of the building. His presence is an anomaly, a deviation from the rigid protocols that govern our society. Officers of his rank seldom descend to these depths, preferring the safety and comfort of their lofty offices, their interactions with lower ranks minimised to the absolute necessities.

The officer's words are too hushed for me to catch, but I strain to hear, my curiosity piqued. Why is he here? What could warrant his personal attention? I search his face for clues, but his expression is inscrutable, a mask of authority and detachment.

Then I noticed something unexpected: Dhana's eyes. For a brief moment, they lighten, a flicker of recognition or understanding passing through them as she listens in on the conversation. It's so subtle, so fleeting, that I almost miss it. But it's there, a glimmer of what I imagined the old Dhana to be like.

This small change in her demeanour sends a jolt through me. What did she hear? What could provoke such a reaction in someone who seemed so utterly defeated? My mind races with possibilities, each more troubling than the last. Is there hope still kindling within her? Or is this a sign of some deeper, more sinister plot?

The guards, now informed by the officer's quiet words, resume their march, leading Dhana down the stairs to the lower levels. I watch them disappear, my heart pounding in my chest. I know that once she crosses that threshold, there's no coming back. The lower levels are a one-way journey, a place where hope goes to die.

Yet, I can't shake the image of that brief light in her eyes. It haunts me, and teases me with the possibility that all is not as it seems. I turn to the officer, whose presence still lingers like a dark cloud. He catches my eye, and for a moment, our gazes lock. Something is unsettling in his stare, a knowing glint that makes me feel exposed and vulnerable.

Before I could retreat into my office, the stack of unfinished paperwork looming like a mountain of unspoken obligations, a startling crash erupted from the office to my left. The sound was jarring, a chaotic symphony of glass shattering and furniture toppling. Instinctively, I froze, my mind racing as I considered the name on the door. Evangeline. Evangeline, a younger officer, had been in her role for barely a year. Despite her limited experience, she approached each case with a level of empathy and fervour that often set her apart from the more seasoned and jaded members of our team. Where others saw numbers and regulations, she saw faces and stories, a trait that both endeared her to some and exasperated others. If there was anyone likely to storm into a leader's office, demanding leniency and justice, it was her,