CHAPTER TWELVE
vol i — bloody fjerdans!

THE BLAST FROM THE HARBOR LIFTED
Dinara off of her feet, flinging her into a wall. She let out a groan, pushing the pain away and standing up. Dinara wasn't going down without a fight, it was in her blood. She vanished from the scene, hoping to get a better vantage of the situation at hand. She launched herself up the cargo crates, scaling them like a nimble insect, her boots finding grips and footholds. The view from above was disturbing. The Dregs were outnumbered, and there were men working around their left and right flanks. Kaz had been right to keep their real point of departure a secret from the others — someone had talked. Dinara had tried to keep tabs, but someone else in the gang had to have been talking, and that wasn't good. She saw flashing from the Ferolind, meaning that Jesper was up there shooting — thank the saints, they finally had a chance.

Dinara ran lightly over the tops of the crates, making her way down the row, seeking her targets. She was thankful that she had purchased new blades a few hours ago — the new ones gave her better accuracy. She slid behind two men that were firing at Nina — she slit one throat, then the next. Blood coated her blade and fingertips, making her seem like the devil. It merged with her own blood, giving her the best rush any drug could have. When the second man dropped, Dinara crouched down and rolled up his right sleeve — a tattoo of a hand, it's first and second fingers cut off at the knuckle. The Black Tips. Her mind scanned for answers on how they rallied so many people, they shouldn't have had so many numbers. Dinara moved onto the next aisle of crates, taking down a girl who was holding a massive, unwieldy rifle, then skewered the man who was supposed watching her flank.

Dinara checked his tattoo — five birds in a wedge formation: how many gangs where they up against. She rounded the next corner, she had a choice: climbing up a cargo box or risk being stuck in a blind spot. Finara decided to suck it up and head for the blindspot, crouched low and slipped around the corner in a lunge. Two men were firing on the docks, their backs to her — leaving them in the perfect attacking position. Dinara dispatched them with two thrusts of her blades. She had taken six lives and was begging for more blood on her hands. It was a drug to her, feeling the lifeless body of her victim fall on her body — crushing her with their weight. It was a sin, but a beautiful one.

Killing was an addiction like no other, setting her soul free and drowning it all at the same time. There was no way she could stop once she started — it was a real problem. Everyone left the streets, leaving them silent and still. They ran for their lives, hoping to not be the next victim of 'The Shadow'. She wiped the knives on her dress trousers, hoping that it would suffice. She returned them to their places among her body, then ran at the nearest cargo container. Her fingers gripped the rim, only to feel a piercing grip under her arm. she turned in time to see Ooman's ugly face split in a determined grimace. He yanked her down and grabbed the front of her coat, giving the knife in her side a sharp twist. Dinara fought to not black out.

As her hood fell back, he exclaimed, "Gheeen! I've got Brekker's Shadow!"

"You should have aimed... higher," dinara gasped. "Missed my heart." Her body was starting to give out on her, but she had no will to die yet. If she was dying, she wanted Kaz to do it himself.

"Don't want you Dead, Shadow," he said. "You are quite the prize. Can't wait to hear all the gossip you've gathered for Dirtyhands, and all his secrets too. I love a good story."

"Well that sucks. I'm not a story teller," she snarked. "But, I can tell you how this one ends. You won't like it."

"That so?" He slammed her up against the crate, and pain crashed through her. Her toes only brushed the ground as blood spurted from the wood at her side. Oomen's forearm was graced against her shoulders, keeping her arms pinned. Dinara was stuck until she thought of a plan.

"Do you know the secret to fighting a Shadow?"
"Talking nonsense, Shadow? Don't die too quick. Need to get you patched up."

"The secret," she panted. "Always keep your eyes open." She brought her knee up, jamming the blade between Oomen's legs.

He shrieked and released her, hands going to his bleeding groin. She staggered back down the row of crates. Dinara could hear men shouting to each other, the pop of gunfire coming in smattered and bursts now. It was unclear as to who was winning, but as long as she got onto the boat alive, it was a win in her books. As she was trying to get to the boat, a wave of dizziness rolled over her. When she touched her fingers to the wound at her side, they came away wet: too much blood. Dinara let out a groan, this is not going the way she wanted to. Footsteps. Someone was coming. She couldn't climb her way out of this situation, but she could hide and ambush. She weaved in and out of the cargo containers trying to find the perfect one to hide behind. Huns were going off all around her, slighly messing with her hearing, making it difficult to track her prey.

"Come out, come out, Shadow! We have secrets to tell!" She found the perfect spot, except it was on-top of a cargo container. She desperately reached out for the lip of the crate and gripped it, fighting through an onslaught of pain as the container under her dropped away. Then she was just hanging, legs dangling helplessly down. The men didn't open fire, they wanted her alive and that scared Finara for some reason. "Come on down, Shadow!"

Dinara was not going to let herself die in a place like this, leaving her to find the last bit of strength she had and heaved herself up. Her body was slowly giving out on her, making her head spin, the world tilting on its axis. She was hoping for someone to save her, praying to all the saints Inej believed in, hoping they would save her. a hand seized her ankle. They had managed to find her among the vast containers. She was flipped onto her back unwillingly, but the amount of blood she had lost was catastrophic.She was on the last leg of energy, trying to save herself. Dinara slid the knife she had in the arm of her trench coat into her palm. She was ready to put the person out of their misery. Slipping the blade up her torso, placing it directly under her breast. As Dinara went to bring the blade up, a hand clasped around her wrist stopping her.

"Not just yet, Dinara." she knew the sound anywhere. She would be able to pick it up in a crowded room, it was embedded into her brain, making her unable to forget it. She could feel herself being bundled up into his arms, feeling herself jolt as he jumped from the crates. His bad leg buckled under the extra weight, making her wince at the thought of him going through this just to save her.

Dinara was unable to stop the moan that slipped through her lips as they landed. "Stop carrying me. Your going to get yourself killed. Also, did we win?"

"I'm not letting you die, Di. It isn't in the plans for tonight, and I'm still here, arent I?" Dinara peered her eyes open, seeing the ground move by fast, she figured Kaz must be running.

"I'm only dying if it's at your hands, Brekker. Only then am I willing to part with the world," she snarked. Kaz let out a small chuckle, glad she was her normal self.

"I can arrange that if you want. Though, it might put a bit of a hole in my personal plans, but I can if you so desperately please." Dinara was unable to keep her eyes open, shutting them against his chest. "Keep talking, Shadow. Don't slip away from me."

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. I'm stuck to you like Jesper is to a game of cards."

Kaz clutched her tighter, not wanting to believe that she was slipping away in his arms. "Just make it to the Schooner. Open your damn eyes, Dinara."

She tried, she really did. Her vision was blurring, but she could make out a pale, shiny scar on Kaz's neck, the one she wanted to trace multiple times yet resisted the urge. The amount of scars and small divots in his skin made Dinara admire him more. All she wanted to do was trace each single one, yet couldn't, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. Yet, here she was, dying in his arms, so she did what she wanted — she reached out and traced the scar. He shivered under her touch, yet did nothing to stop her.

"What was that?" he questioned, a certain sharpness in his voice, not that he minded the touch, it actually brought him comfort.

"I've always wanted to do it. Now that i'm dying, it seemed like the perfect opportunity," quipped sarcastically.

He sucked in a sharp breathe. "You're not dying," Kaz snapped. "I'm protecting my informant."

"I'm glad I'm bleeding all over your shirt."
"I'll put it in your tab."
"Good. I owe you something for a change."
"Why's that?"

Dinara never had a chance to respond. The world had grown very dark around her, making her slip into the abyss, not hearing the shouts he screamed at her to stay awake.

they touched!