The Skin Thief

Chapter 105

Marcus collapses to the floor, a splatter of red bursting out of his chest. The echo of the gunshot slowly fades away, and I stare at his broken body in a state of shock. Blood, oozing quickly, pools on the ground around him and the air is strong with the smoky scent of gunpowder.

Slowly, I lower the gun.

I can't feel my legs as I walk to his side. My breathing increases as I look down at his sickly pale face. As I realise what I've done, my knees buckle.

He looks up at me with those beautiful grey-blue eyes, tears glistening. I feel dampness on my cheeks and lift my hand, feeling my own tears spilling down my face.

Marcus gasps desperately for air, his chest heaving and his body trembling. It's like he's trying to faze into his smoke form. He grits his teeth in pain, moaning loudly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice breaking as I let out a small sob. He holds up his hand. I'm not sure what he's trying to do. I take it, though, and kiss his bloody knuckles. With my other hand, I stroke his hair gently as my vision blurs with thick and heavy tears.

"It wasn't all fake," I say to him, needing him to know that. He gazes up at me, the pain on his face breaking me. I lean down, my own body trembling now, and kiss him on the temple tenderly.

I look at his chest. I can't see the blood on his black clothes, but I know my shot hit its mark. It won't be long now. I take in a deep breath, trying not to break down into sobs as I watch this man dying before me. I've really done it. I've killed the man I...

I refuse to think of the rest of that sentence.

His hand in mine grows weak, and I meet his gaze once more. Time seems to return, and I hear approaching footfalls. I smile softly at Marcus and gently stroke that beautiful curl off his face for the final time.

"I loved every moment with you," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

I tenderly press my lips against his, hating how cold they are. He kisses me back weakly, and I let out a small sob. Then, I pull away and take a deep breath.

Now it's time to survive.

The door bursts open.

I scream. "Help! Help! He's been shot! Help me!" I don't need to fake the agony in my scream. The guards rush towards me, confused, as I press my hand over the wound as though I'm trying to stop the bleeding.

Marcus looks at them out of the corner of his eyes, like he's trying to warn them. It's too late. From my side, where I had the gun hidden at an angle they wouldn't suspect, I shoot. The three guards drop instantly, blood exploding from their heads.

I stand up and walk over to them, quickly taking the guns off their bodies and reloading my own weapons as more shouts sound throughout the corridors. I turn back to Marcus once more. His eyes are wide, and he stares at me. I can't tell if his gaze burns with hatred or awe. Perhaps it's both.

I grab the file off his desk and tuck it into my uniform in a rush. The shouts get closer, and I hear the loud thumps of the approaching soldiers. Leaning down, I take a dagger holstered in Marcus' trousers. It's a beautiful thing, with a black handle and a curved, gleaming silver blade. There is a nice, satisfying weight to it. This will do nicely.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and stretch my neck. Adrenaline rushes through me like fire, but it doesn't make my body tremble or my heart race. That familiar calm fills me as I zone everything out. The world is still. Everything moves slowly in these final few moments of peace.

I will get home.

I stand behind the door, the pistol and dagger ready in my hands. The next wave burst into the room. I attack as they rush past me, shooting the closest in the back of the head. As they turn to face me, I duck under a shot, slicing at the knees of the next attacker before using his collapsing body as a shield from the next wave of bullets.