Alina. The Shadows: Part II

Chapter One

MATTEO - Agent 7

     The first time I was shot, the bullet grazed my leg. It hit me in the calf, slicing its way through the skin, tearing into the outer layer of muscle, and finding its exit quickly. It hurt like a bitch, but at the time, it was a mere inconvenience. I had just killed the man who shot me and was able to get Agency medical help quickly after. To me, the wound felt like a trophy of sorts. I was young in The Agency and proud to have walked away from a fight alive. My mission accomplished and a scar to prove it.

This bullet wound isn't an inconvenience, instead it stings like a betrayal. I have known nothing but the brotherhood my entire life. The Agency has trained me from birth and molded me into the assassin I am today. Agent Seven. Nameless and deadly. But now, I am certain that the people who raised me, the ones who have fought beside me, have seemingly turned their backs on me.

I am wounded far deeper than skin and bone; the bullet burrowing its sharp edges into my soul.

That knowledge has a savage fury erupting in the deepest part of my being, seeking retribution.

I take the flimsy paper tickets from Alina's outstretched hand. My heated touch is brute against her cool, trembling fingers. I drop my gaze to hers but she keeps her face down, purposefully avoiding my own.

An odd roiling in the pit of my stomach has me wishing for her to lift her gaze and to meet my eyes. But I already know what I'll find in those cerulean depths. I shouldn't care that that look of hatred has invaded her features once again, but I do. I open my mouth to say something, anything to ease her disdain but I know it's worthless. Nothing I say will take away the hurt I've caused her, no words will undo the wrongs she's endured at my own hands. She despises me.

It's for the best. I remind myself.

"Let's go," I mutter, turning my back to her.

Quickly, we head in the direction of platform four. We have less than twenty minutes before our train departs but there is something I need first.

I scan the crowded vestibule, searching for the right person and the perfect opportunity to execute my plan. My eyes narrow in on a group of three women ahead of us. They are standing in a small huddle near an empty track, distracted by their cell phones, as other patrons hurry past. I walk close, Alina on my opposite side, and use their lack of attention as an opportunity to swipe a small piece of luggage from the young woman nearest us. She is leaning over, showing the other two women something on her phone, her suitcase left unattended behind her. It's a small black roller bag which will be easy to blend in with the mass of other darkly colored suitcases being pulled and carried throughout the station.

We will be long gone before she notices it missing. I snatch it from the ground with ease.

I hear Alina suck in a surprised breath but I ignore her. I'm doing this for her. She won't make it far in those clothes without drawing attention to us. She's half naked for fucks sake with blood splatters marring the clean fabric.

Whether Alina likes it or not, we must move fast, keeping our heads low and eyes off of us for as long as possible. It's the only way to keep her alive.

"There," I nod toward the open doors of the silver and red train. Large windows line the expanse of its metal walls. I grab ahold of Alina's wrist with my free hand and quickly tug her onto the train behind me.

As we make our way to the back of the train where the rows of seats end and the private rooms begin, I pause. There, behind the last row of seats, is a first aid kit. I release Alina's hand, ignoring the wet sticky feel of my fingers against her wrist, and scoop up the large plastic box. My arm screams at me with the movement. My fingers slip on the plastic as more blood coats my hand.