9. Zeke

Not five seconds after that scream I found her. Rush guided me like a laser around the back of the battered van to find her freaking out at the bloody mess on the ground.

Tendrils of twirling brown hair escaped around her shoulders. A long, black leather jacket, open and showing a silky white top that barely covered her chest. Had she come out in her fucking nightclothes? The fact I have to tell myself not to look down again, has Rush fizzing with adenalin. He wants to do a hell of a lot more than look.

/Fine. What about the guy on the floor/ Rush nudged me but I’m not looking at that gory mess. Not when I need to keep my focus. Last time I stared for too long at a battle victim it sent me straight back down that hole of grief.

Instead I shouted “Freya!” gripping her wrists in my hands, fighting her flailing struggles. Quick as a flash I slammed her wrists high above her against the filthy van doors. I was forcing her to look up, to realise it was me,.

“Freya, we need to get ou