Horror punched through me: a little boy toddled towards us with a toy car clutched in his fist. The young man dragged himself, groaning, towards his son. My breath snagged. Ashur looked like a corpse just hauled from a coffin—eyes empty, fixed on me—while I still held his gun down.
I swallowed hard. 'We don't touch civilians.'
The boy—four, maybe—had frozen, staring at his dad. My heart thudded, and Ashur kept staring. The man reached for his son, voice shaking to pieces. 'Go to your room… go…'
Ashur slid the gun out of my grip. As he brushed past, he murmured, 'If they compromise the op, I'm authorised.'
I stared, shocked, unbelieving. He levelled the gun at the man. I couldn't seem to breathe; the blood in my veins felt like ice. The little boy's face was wet, bewildered, his red car slipping from his fingers.
The father looked up at Ashur, eyes wide, and whispered, 'Please.'
Ashur's finger settled on the trigger.
I found my voice and bit out, 'Is he stopping your mission right now? You want to leave a trail of evidence behind us?'
A thought hit—sharp and ugly. I stepped in, furious, yanked my own gun from the back of my trousers and cracked him on the temple with the butt.
The man slumped, unconscious, and the little boy, sobbing, bolted to his side. I straightened and growled at Ashur, 'Wasn't that easier? Now we can go.'
He just stared at me, gun in hand—a knowing, mocking glint in his eyes. I fought to keep my face still so he wouldn't read what was going on inside me.
He smirked, lowered the weapon, and headed for the balcony door. I let out a slow breath and looked back at the boy trying to rouse his father. Throat tight, I went to him, picked the red car up off the floor, and set it beside him. He kept calling for his dad through tears.
It felt like my whole body was burning from the inside out. Wrong. All of it—so wrong.
I bent close to his ear and whispered, 'He'll wake in a minute. Don't be scared.'
I straightened—and froze. Ashur stood framed in the doorway, his cold gaze fixed on me. His eyes were emptied of anything human. Just black, without end. I could hear my own heartbeat. I walked towards him and slipped past, bearing the weight of that stare.
I followed him over the balcony rail. This time he didn't catch me; I hit the tarmac hard. Pain tore out from my bullet wound and lit up every nerve in my head. I clutched at my side, lips pressed together, as he dropped down beside me.
I scowled up at him. He gave a crooked little grin, swept his gaze over me, and said, 'Told you to jump properly.'