As desperate as Harvey seemed to be for me to go to Llangollen and meet the woman that he lived with, there were still other things that I had to do.

  Ever since getting back from Paris, I had wanted to talk to my people. Let them know about the situation. But I hadn’t had it in me to do it. But speaking to Harvey seemed to have brought me out of my shell. As a result, a small stage had been set up outside the front of The Tower, and I was due to step up on it in about five minutes.

  To tell the complete truth, I was terrified. I wasn’t the best at public speaking, which was a problem. I was the Prime Minister.

  I had rehearsed sentences in the bathroom mirror to myself, but I didn’t have an entire speech that I knew by heart. I was going to have to string together those few sentences.

  ‘And I hate suits,’ I mumbled to Cecilia and Natasha.

  My other friends were all outside as part of the crowd, but Natasha and Cecilia had decided to stay back for a bit before I had to go out there.

  ‘We know,’ Natasha said plainly. ‘You’ve mentioned it a fair bit.’

  ‘What if something bad happens out there, huh?’ I retorted under my breath. ‘There’s no holes in this damn thing for me to fly. I’m trapped.’

  ‘You’re a descendant of Titan, Albert, you can fight without your wings,’ Natasha replied quickly, rolling her eyes. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘Worst comes to worst, I’ve got my sickle bracelets,’ Cecilia added, grinning at me. I gave a sort of sad smile back.

  The Paris fight felt like weeks ago. In reality, it had only been at the beginning of the week. It was still fresh on my mind. I could say a few words about it, right?

  ‘Let’s get it over and done with,’ I said quietly, beginning to walk towards the door.

  Cecilia wordlessly stopped me and pulled me into a hug. I hadn’t really realised how much I had needed one until she had given it to me.

  I wrapped my arms around her back and squeezed her gently.

  ‘Thanks,’ I breathed. ‘See you on the other side.’

  ‘You say that like something big’s gonna happen,’ she teased as she pulled out of the hug. ‘Go on, Your Highness, let ‘em know how it is.’

  I smiled at her again.

  Stepping onto the street was strange. There was a small flight of stairs in front of me that led up to the small makeshift stage. Even from where I was, I could hear the almost deafening chatter from the crowd in front of the stage, and I was almost blinded by the flashing lights. What in Titan’s name were they taking photos of? I wasn’t even there.

  I slowly made my way up the flight of stairs, not making eye contact with the nameless security guards lining the sides. Once I reached the top, I heard them file in behind me. Now it was me and my people. The only thing between us was this microphone.

  Everyone stopped speaking once they realised that I was now standing atop the stage. My stomach flipped. They didn’t look happy.

  Fighting through the blinding lights and horrifyingly powerful nausea, I managed to weakly murmur, ‘The situation in France is leaning heavily in our favour.’

  Nobody in the crowd spoke, so I continued.

  ‘The attack on Paris was a huge success.’

  Didn’t feel like one.

  ‘Our forces are now marching towards Versailles as we speak. Our goal is to topple the French army and government in hopes of knocking them out of the war.’

  I couldn’t mention Maltor’s name. That would get everybody asking questions.

  ‘With Fra-’

  ‘What happened to the Eiffel Tower?’ a hopeful reporter piped up, and I saw a microphone supported by a metal rod fly towards my face. Didn’t they realise there was one in front of me?

  ‘They took it down themselves in an attempt to kill our soldiers,’ I replied quietly. ‘We had no part in bringing it down.’

  ‘What’s the official casualty number?’

  The questions had begun.

  ‘I cannot reveal the number just yet, and I apologise for such. Everything must be triple-checked before I reveal it to the public.’

  In truth, I had no idea. Nobody had told me the casualty count.

  ‘Any families that have lost somebody in the fight will receive-’ I began, but I was cut off. I was going to look horrible because they wouldn’t let me say the good things I was trying to do.

  ‘Where was Russia in the fight in Paris?’

  ‘Russia is merely an ally that gives us supplies. It was not agreed that they would help us attack enemies. They are background support.’

  ‘Why did you decide to ally us with Russia?’

  Any hopes of giving a ‘speech’ were dead. All I could do was desperately pump out answers to the questions that they kept throwing at me.

  ‘Russia are, at the moment, the only country willing to help us. In times of war, you take whatever help is available. I’m doing this for the city.’

  ‘What happens if Maltor launches an attack on Russia? Will we help from the sidelines?’

  ‘If our defence around the city is strong enough, then RoCitian forces will be deployed into Russia to aid them,’ I replied calmly, knowing damn well that my response would likely not be received well.

  ‘Why do you believe we should give them our footpower when they refuse to give us theirs?’

  ‘I am the giving type, you could say,’ I returned in the lightest tone I could muster. ‘It does not matter what they give us, I will give them everything that I can if need be.’

  ‘Don’t you think that that is a rather unwise way to think?’

  ‘If it results in some sort of benefit for another, I believe that no action can be unwise.’

  The crowd seemed stunned into silence for a few seconds, but it wasn’t long before another question came flying at me.

  ‘Why haven’t you killed Maltor yet?’

  It seemed obvious that it was that one that was going to break the silence. If they had no questions to ask, or no responses to give, then that is of course what they would resort to.

  ‘I am trying, I can assure you. But Mal-’

  ‘Not trying hard enough!’ a heckler yelled.

  ‘But Maltor is very slippery and seems to always have a backup plan,’ I continued through gritted teeth. ‘If our last battle had taken place anywhere other than Paris, I would have brought home his carcass, I can assure you. It was the work of a French soldier that allowed him to escape earlier this week.’

  The crowd began to murmur. Clearly, my words were not being taken well. The volume of the chatter rose.

  ‘Just man up and kill him!’ someone shouted.

  ‘If you’re so strong, put an end to this now!’

  Then, one sympathetic soul cried, ‘He’s just a kid!’

  A bang echoed through the air. Followed quickly by another. And another.

  Security hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t noticed. Nobody in the crowd had even noticed. Or, they didn’t care enough to say anything.

  I realised after the pain in my chest began that I had been hit by two bullets. The third one had missed.

  As I began to topple backwards, I saw the assassin. He now seemed to stand out from the crowd. About five-foot-eight in height, he had gelled brown hair and dark brown eyes that glowered at me with such power that it felt almost as though I were being forced down by them rather than the bullets. His clothes? All black.

  Blood sprayed from my wounds. I had been shot in the stomach and in the right side of my chest. Then, with another bang, I gained a second wound in my stomach.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I hit the ground and immediately the world began to spin. I heard the crowd give a unanimous scream of terror before I heard what was undoubtedly all of their footsteps as they scurried away.

  ‘Mr Santrrer!’ a voice shrieked from above me.

  Through my rapidly blurring vision, I saw the smallest of the security team staring down at me. He had strawberry blond hair and panicked brown eyes.

  ‘He…Hen…What?’ I breathed.

  It was bizarre. Losing limbs? Manageable. A Killing Curse? Survivable. Three bullets? It looked like they were a bit much for me to take.

  ‘Get him!’ the man above me roared to the rest of his team. Four gunshots followed his command. ‘Sir! Look at me!’

  I slowly moved my head to try and look him in the eyes, but I couldn’t seem to find them. I could get through this. I’d survived worse. Gods, I’d even survived bullet wounds before. This was nothing.

  ‘Sir! How many fingers am I-’

  That was the last thing I heard before my hearing faded and my vision slowly eased into darkness.

  ***

  We really need to start listening to Albert when he says something bad’s gonna happen, Natasha couldn’t help but say to herself as she dived behind a car with Jay.

  A team of six had attempted to assassinate Albert, and, at the moment, it looked as though they were successful.

  It had all happened so fast. Albert had been answering questions, then the crowd had grown uneasy, then there were bangs, and then Albert was on the floor covered in blood.

  Jay let out a chilling scream of terror as the corpse of one of the security team flew straight into the wall of the home in front of the two of them. He stared at it for a few moments, his eyes wide with horror.

  ‘Do the security team carry guns?’ Natasha said loudly as to be heard over the noise of the crowd and the shots. ‘Jay! Focus!’

  He shook his head rapidly. ‘No clue!’

  What felt like a round of gunshots seemed to be unloaded onto the car that the pair were hiding behind. The vehicle rattled violently, making Natasha’s body freeze with fear.

  Jay didn’t have a weapon on him. She did. She had her ring and her watch.

  ‘Uh…Natasha…’ Jay murmured. ‘It looks like…we’re…uh…prime targets…’

  Of course they were. As friends of the Prime Minister they wanted dead, it came as no surprise to Natasha that they were the next few people in line for those guns.

  She kissed her teeth before slapping her watch and sliding her finger across her ring. Within a few seconds, her sword and her shield had sprouted from the items and were rested in her hands.

  The silver sword glimmered under the summer light, making her initials on the crossguard seem to pop out. Her silver shield, too, seemed to shine.

  ‘Stay here, Jay!’ Natasha shouted before shooting to her feet. ‘I’ll-’

  ‘You’ve never killed before!’ Jay countered. ‘Give me the-’

  ‘Hey, smartass, you’ve gotta kill once before you start! This’ll be my first!’

  A bullet zoomed so close to Natasha’s face that she saw her hair wave slightly as it passed. Instinctively, Natasha raised her shield to block her left side. Three more shots were fired, but they were all caught by her shield.

  Every time a bullet hit the metal, Natasha’s bones rattled. Her body already felt weak. Albert did this regularly. She could do it once, right?

  Making her blood run cold once more, a pair of evil little eyes appeared over the top of her shield.

  ‘The Aphrodite girl, right?’ came a sickening voice, obviously belonging to the same person as the eyes did. ‘I know what we’re to do with you.’

  A hammer slammed into the side of the attacker’s head. He crumpled into a heap at Natasha’s feet as Asbel began to kick him ferociously.

  ‘Get cover!’ he screamed before slamming his weapon down onto the gunman’s head.

  ‘That didn’t wor-’

  Ethan’s body soared over their heads and slammed into the roof of the car that Natasha had just been hiding under.

  Immediately, Natasha began to dish out orders, even if she was in no position to do so.

  ‘Watch over Ethan!’ she barked to Asbel. ‘I’ve got this!’

  ‘Nat-’

  It was too late. She was off.

  Natasha Acclere barrelled in the direction that Ethan’s body had flown from. She darted past the front door of Madam Sweetheart’s café, which had been barricaded shut by tables and chairs. As she passed, she saw Madam Sweetheart and her husband standing fearfully behind the counter out of the corner of her eye.

  She found Ethan’s attacker.

  Without missing a beat, he raised his gun directly at Natasha’s head.

  ‘Take a gamble,’ she remembered her brother saying as he pointed a Nerf Gun at her.

  Her Gun was out of bullets. Lost under the beds and under the radiators, she presumed. Her brother, three years her elder, had plenty of bullets. His Gun was full, as were his pockets.

  She looked up at him, feeling defeated.

  ‘You could take a step forward,’ Christopher continued cockily. ‘Take a gamble, Natasha. I could spare you and we can take on Georgie together. Or I’ll shoot you. Come on, take a gamble.’

  They always did Nerf wars. The general rule was that if you were shot in a vital you were out. If you were shot anywhere else then you lost one of your three lives.

  Christopher’s gun was aimed directly at her forehead, as was the gun of the man in front of her in the real world.

  Take a gamble, she repeated.

  Natasha shot forward, not even pausing in her stride. As she did so, she pushed her sword forward, hoping that it at least reached her attacker before his bullet reached her.

  He didn’t shoot. Just as her brother had done years ago, the gunman spared her. It was just a shame for him that it cost him his life.

  Her first kill.

  Natasha knew that taking someone’s life could really drain a person. She had seen Albert’s mood plummet simply because he had ended the life of one of his many enemies.

  She was prepared for that feeling to hit like a truck once the adrenaline wore off.

  ‘One step closer and they get it!’ she heard a voice shriek from her right.

  Three of the six assassins were left. And they all stood in the same place, in a standoff against the security team.

  A middle-aged woman with an oval face and greying black hair was being grappled by one of the assassins whilst another one held who was evidently her younger daughter tightly.

  The third member was pointing his gun directly at the woman.

  If Albert were in Natasha’s shoes, he would simply blitz forward at light speed and decapitate the gunmen. She couldn’t do that. Maybe she could apply some makeup for them.

  Only two members of the security team were left. It was those two, Natasha, and Asbel staring down those monsters.

  ‘Prime Minister Albert will stop you!’ the young girl cried defiantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw Asbel wince. She understood. The girl should keep quiet. ‘He’s powerful!’

  ‘Prime Minister Albert is a good-for-nothing stain on this city, girl,’ the man snarled. ‘We’re trying to save everyone. And don’t be mistaken. Your Prime Minister isn’t getting up from those shots.’

  Blood spurted from the speaker’s chest as a bang made Natasha’s ears ring. Another bang and the man dropped.

  ‘And neither will you!’ Jay roared, wielding a gun and pointing it straight at the remaining two men.

  ‘You’ll miss!’ one of them cried desperately. ‘Pull that trigger and you’ll kill the kid!’

  Jay brought up his other hand to grasp the gun more firmly. His eyes were full of fearful anger.

  Natasha wanted to help. Albert was one of her friends. She couldn’t just let someone shoot him and then threaten a child.

  ‘What do we do, Natasha?’ Jay whispered, his voice dripping with terror.

  A piece of Jay was seemingly shining through. A piece that Natasha hadn’t seen for years and years. It was like he was just that small scrawny kid he had been when he and Natasha had first met. When she and Ethan had taken Jay under their wing and protected him from everyone else.

  One of the men pointed his gun directly at Jay. And he fired.

  Natasha cried out his name and threw her left arm out in hopes that her shield would catch the bullet. As if she could move faster than one of those things.

  Fire shot from the end of Asbel’s hammer as he, too, tried to protect Jay. But it was Ethan who got there first.

  ***

  Ethan flew down from the sky, his body coated with electricity. He sliced through the air and cut cleanly through the bullet making its way towards one of his best friends.

  He landed on the floor, planting his feet firmly down on the concrete. Rage was building inside of him. They had shot Albert. He couldn’t let them shoot someone else.

  ‘Get any closer and we’ll shoot the girl!’ one of the shooters shrieked. ‘You’ll see soon enough! We’re saving you all!’

  Ethan paused for a moment before tensing his legs to dart again. But his pause gave the other man an opening to speak.

  ‘You’re blind because you’re his friends! He’s a fool! He hasn’t done one good thing for our lives since he took office!’

  Ethan took a step forward. The hand of the man holding the young girl tightened. If his finger bent any more, the trigger would be pulled. Ethan froze.

  He didn’t know what to do. Sure, there were a lot of options. He was a son of Titan, for his sake.

  But Ethan didn’t know whether Albert would want them to kill the failed assassins. They had already been reduced to just two. Albert’s public image would most likely be damaged even more if anyone who tried anything against him was killed immediately.

  But they had to be restrained. Arrested. The only problem with that was that they were threatening to shoot the child if anyone got close.

  Ethan had used Godspeed mere seconds ago. He doubted he could pull it off again. He couldn’t use it like Albert could. Or could he?

  One of the men smirked. ‘Can’t act without permission, can you?’

  He turned his head to Ethan.

  ‘You. Son of Titan. You can kill me before I can blink, can’t you? You just showed me how fast you can move. Come on. Do it. You’re free.’

  ‘Ethan, don’t,’ Natasha warned under her breath. ‘He’ll kill the girl. Look at how tight his finger is on the trigger.’

  She was right. His finger was so tightly pressed against the body of the gun’s trigger that it looked as though even a slight gust of wind blowing in the right direction would cause the gun to fire.

  Ethan had killed before. What was one young girl’s life in the mix of it all?

  He told himself it was because she was innocent. Oblivious. She had no role in any of this. But one could argue that most of the people that Ethan had killed had been innocent. Their only crime had been posing a threat to somebody close to him.

  He had not realised it, but he was leaning rather heavily on his front leg. He was subconsciously readying up to fly forward. So what was stopping him?

  A stumble. Ethan stumbled forward. The pressure he was applying on his leg seemed to be a bit too much. He lost his footing and caught himself just before he could crash to the ground. Eyes wide, he looked up.

  The girl was still alive.

  Was it all a bluff? Were they really prepared to kill a child? Or even her mother? These people only hated Albert. Killing innocents wouldn’t get him out of office.

  Ethan began to consider his options and their downsides. He had the perfect Breathing Technique in mind. He just had to disarm them. Get rid of the guns.

  ‘Arrest them,’ came Albert’s voice from above.

  Ethan’s head snapped up to the sky.

  Albert was hovering a few feet in the air behind him. Steam was pouring thickly from his bullet wounds and small droplets of blood were falling from his body and splashing against the floor.

  ‘Just what we needed!’ one of the men roared.

  Both of them raised their guns and fired.

  Anger was coating Albert’s eyes. His pupils were tiny. Time seemed to slow as the bullets raced through the air towards him. Albert began to bend low, but he paused. The bullets whizzed past either side of his head.

  ‘I actually thought I’d have to avoid those for a second, there,’ he scoffed. ‘You might want to train your aiming abilities before trying to assassinate someone.’

  Ethan noticed something rather strange behind the two men. Well, ‘strange’ may have been the wrong word to use. It was another person.

  He was at least six feet in height and had long glossy black hair that fell marvellously down to his narrow shoulders. He had brilliant blue eyes that were visible even from such a distance.

  The most questionable aspect of his appearance was his clothing. He was dressed in a black waistcoat and a light blue shirt as though he were at a formal event. His trousers sported the same colour as his waistcoat and fell sharply down to his brown shoes.

  Around his neck appeared to be a necklace of some sort, but Ethan could not tell what the symbol on it was.

  He would find out pretty soon.

  Yellow energy flared to life on the man’s hands as he threw them out as though he were pushing something extremely hard.