"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Grim Wolf
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He listened.

That was all. He did not try to speak, he did not try to protest; this, whatever it was, needed to be said. His eyes didn't stay on her, of course; they flickered frequently back to the two people he'd just killed.

Jacob and Victoria Logan.

Victoria deserved to come after him. Perhaps he even deserved to die, for what he'd done to her and Alice--for the terror he'd put them through, the unnecessary violence. What mattered it that he'd lost a finger? What mattered it that he'd tried to resolve things without violence? Alice had every reason to stop him from taking the only thing that could protect the two of them.

Raidon looked at the gun in his hand

"...people so drunk on hope that we pick up guns and shoot our friends because maybe we can put our life back together once we’re done..." The words drifted into his consciousness without him paying them much mind, and he kept staring at the gun he'd picked up from besides Victoria's broken, bloody body. No life to put together, one this is done, he thought vaguely. I haven't once thought about what I'm going to do when I get out of here.

Odd, that. What did he have to live for, really?

She wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. He didn't react to her touch, not physically; he was still thinking about what she'd said.

Maybe we can put our life back together once we're done.

“I can’t stop you from killing on your own.” There was a dread, weak, and determined finality in her tone. “And I wouldn’t, even if I could. This is your fight.” Her eyes were closing, no longer forced dryly open by the pain in her knee. “But I will not let you kill on my behalf, and I will not—I’ll do everything in my power to prevent anyone around me from murdering anyone else. It’s what I do. I suspect this means I’m leaving you now, and that’s okay.”

Raidon's throat felt suddenly dry, but he nodded and stood up. "It's probably for the best," he conceded, as she started to get up. "I don't..."

I don't want to have to choose between you and me, if it comes to that.

And then she was falling, and without thinking Raidon dropped the gun and caught her around the waist. It wasn't an easy catch--Raidon had little arm muscle to speak of--and his arms trembled as he tried to keep her aloft. His exposed left pinkie dragged over her bare skin in the process, and he hissed through his teeth. Without thinking he moved closer, so he could support her with his whole body rather than just his weak arms.

"Yeah, you're leaving," he said, his sarcasm eclipsed by exertion. He started to pull her in the direction of the stairs--he'd carry her up if he had to. She resisted, and he turned back to her. "You can leave me if you like," he grunted, the words coming out sharper than he'd intended. "But you're not leaving me like this. You're going to walk out of here standing..."

He trailed off.

In the process of trying to lead her towards the stairs, he'd pulled her closer. His hands were wrapped around her lower back, entirely bare since she'd taken off her shirt; her breasts, shielded only by a ragged blue bra, were pressed against his chest. And her lips were close, so close it seemed to him that they were all he could see...

His throat felt very dry.

"I should..." he started, still staring at her lips. "Should find you a place to..."

What was he thinking? What right did he have to be looking at this girl, to feel this momentary absence of guilt? Simon was dead, and he'd killed Scott McGregor and Alison Walworth, Madison Stone had deserved it and maybe so had Jacob but had Victoria? Hadn't she just been acting as he would have, to stop him? Hadn't she just-

"Soryu," he said, his tone suddenly much softer. "I don't want to think anymore."

He pressed his lips to hers.
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