... TWO YEARS LATER.

... TWO YEARS LATER.

Running with scissors—is the term I would use to describe this bloody moment. It frankly meant we were fucked.

The mart was in a remote area of Turkey that people rarely visited. The light that filtered through the roof was weak and of little comfort.

The cigarette rack is empty, and the only sign of life inside is the old shopkeeper sleeping near the cash register. The lights in the tiny mart weren't on, yet the infinite mirrors and glass shelves created a blue-green glow that covered the earthy-colored floor.

"Everyone on the bloody floor now! This is a robbery," I growled.

The cashier chuckled. "Siz sadece silahsız çocuklarsınız. Ne yapacaksın?" He taunted us with laughter.

"Bizi test etme," I growled back, ready to pounce. (don't test us)

Grace grabbed a chocolate bar in the background. She shoved the whole thing in her mouth and chewed it quickly. Grace's eyes were like fire, and her jet-black hair shone with a sheen of oil, like glass strands of black.

"Bloody hell," Noah screeched.

The officers entered the building. Light from the outside filtered through the door and spread over the back aisle. The officers' guns were drawn, cocked, and ready to shoot if you moved or made one wrong move.

The officers entered with guns drawn, each held in both hands, some with hands on the trigger, ready to shoot. The mart is dark, and the only light came from the cracks in the roof—shelves lined with food, drinks, and many things. I've grabbed into one of those before. The chocolate bar glistened from all the other products that had been there for so long. My heart was pounding. It was hitting so hard that my ears were ringing. I could barely see the bullets coming from the guns. I stumbled and fell over, but then I jolted.

"Sorry, mate," Noah said. He chucked a case of floating glass colas, knocking one officer out cold. Then chaos erupted as bullets flew.

"Bu çocukların süper güçleri var," One cop shouted. "Öldür onları!"

A row of officers frames the scene. They wear blue uniforms with yellow dots on the shoulder pads. One has a mustache and watches with interest, pistol in hand. He shouts orders to the other officers, and they run behind the counter.

Bullets flew through the air, sometimes missing. The store clerk was running for his life, scared out of his mind. He bumps into your chest and drops his keys. He looks up at you, and before he can say anything, you tap the side of your head and point to the register. A look of terror crosses his face as he nods. He opens the record, and the drawer pops out. Just as he's going for the cash, he grabs a gun tucked in the back of his pants.

"Don't move a muscle," the man demanded in English. My hands raised to the sky.

"I'm not bloody moving, am I?"

The pallet was wooden and worn but needed to be in use. Four long nails held it down to the floor, two along each side. There was no pattern, but the nails were all at a 45-degree angle from the top. It's heavy, and as it floated, it shimmered like a mirage with its reflective polish.

"Wait, wait! I can help you guys. What do you want? Money? Food?"

"I don't want your business or your mercy." I spat.

"How old are you, son? Why did you choose such a life?" The man kneeled before me, his hands raised to the sky.

"Eleven and a half," I replied, unamused.

"Forgive me, and I will forgive you,"

In a flash, he bled deep red, and the ribbons of his blood were so dark they were almost black. His torso laid flush in the pallet's center, like a book held fast by its spine in perfect alignment. I levitated off the ground, my head pounding with glee. My eyes shot sparks of agony into him.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "May your soul rest in peace?" The floors were sticky with congealed blood, the walls, too, as if a great flood had risen to the content where the three of us stood.

The moon was too bright for me to see anything explicit. My eyes ached in their sockets, bloodshot from the intensity of the light. The trees along the trail looked like mushy black smears. Noah was in the lead, leaving a trail of yellow diamonds in his path.

"What the fuck did you guys do?" I roared.

"What the fuck did you do, Max?" Noah rolled his eyes, gesturing to the squashed man behind me. I hurried past Grace and Noah and popped open the register, realizing I had already robbed it.

"Let's go," I instructed them.

"Uh, Max? Did you forget we just massacred a bunch of cops?" Grace screeched, gesturing at the bloodied crime scene around us.

"I'm not bloody stupid, Grace," I snapped. The droplets of red glistened on the white tiles. A trail of lines stretched out along the floor to the door. Sticking to the walls of the building like a maze.

Raw meat and spoiled bread littered every corner of the store. Blood pooled in every nook and cranny, soaking the linoleum and causing it to swell like the gray skin of a corpse.

"Let's get out of here before we make another mess," I snapped.

"Agreed," Noah said, following behind. I checked the front entrance, which was swarmed with armed law enforcement.

"Fuck!" Noah cursed.

"Now what, genius?" Grace snapped at me.

"Don't get bitchy with me, or I'll tell Alexander all about your kiss with that boy," I threatened.

"You're just like Alex—stubborn, manipulative—should I go on?"

"She's not wrong, mate," Noah said before assessing the number of cops outside the mart. I shot them both a daggered glare. They both quickly backed down for their safety—smart asses.

"Head to the back. I'll take care of them," I barked at my siblings.

"What are you going to do? Kill them?" Noah asked.

"Do you need to ask that?" Grace asked, tugging Noah's hoodie. "Come on."

Noah took one look at the crowd outside and sighed. "Don't kill them, Max," Noah instructed. "We did enough damage in here."

The moon hung in the sky like a great big beacon. It was almost too big. It was overwhelming. The stars around it were of many sizes, but the moon seemed to be as big as a baseball in comparison. The moon's glow gave the surrounding darkness a subtle shade of blue.

The sheer number of police officers dwarfed the Knight. Their glistening black and white cars filled the parking lot, each one supplied with weapons and officers. They all pointed them at the boy, who was less than half their height, standing before them—a mere child.

The setting sun turned the sky from dark to blood red, the moon a sliver overhead, its pale white light and ineffectual rays merely streaming past the rising sun as if it were a spectator to this drama. There were no stars to be seen, only the startling, white-hot light of the sun as it reached the horizon.

"O bir çocuk," One officer said, lowering his weapon. A bunch of officers followed him.

"Kanmayın Beyler," another officer warned, lifting his gun to shoot. "Bir düzine adamımızı öldürdü."

"Zahmet etme," I said, dropping to my knees as I placed my hands on my head. The cops slowly exchanged confused glances before they lowered their weapons—big bloody mistakes, guys. The ground rumbled as I tossed the men backward with an invisible force, disarmed them simultaneously, and set their guns in a pile off to the side. Then, Noah and Grace appeared by my side.

"Let's go," Noah snapped.

The men slowly raised their guns toward us. With all the power of a thousand lions, I shouted, "I'm bloody coming."

The men fell to the ground, the weight of a hundred tons of pressure flattening them to the tarmac. The metal creaked and groaned under the force but didn't break. The cars rattled, their steel frames bending and warping under pressure.

Noah's hand is by my side as I reach for it. The concrete was warm under my feet. The asphalt felt gritty beneath my shoes. The air was cool. Every gust of wind brought goose flesh to my arms.

"Now, Maximus! Alexander wants us on a flight to Mexico in an hour," Grace ordered.

"Fine," I said, giving in. I looked at the men, intimidating them with one glare before Noah, Grace, and I disappeared off to pack our bags back at the hotel before we were off to Mexico and soon to the United States of America to seek revenge on Dad—the vengeance he never deserved.