"Ouch!"
He held his jaw, a small snort slipping from his mouth.
I couldn't speak, too focused on detailing every single trait that was the same, and every single one that wasn't.
"Even the prison guards were nicer to me..."
A smile cracked on his face as he looked at me again, that playful spark still in his eyes. Another rough chortle fell from his lips.
His laugh was different. More guttural, hoarse, like he hadn't drunk water in a long time. But the folds in his cheeks were the same, forming that familiar, irresistible smile.
Deeper than V's, even.
As if he had laughed more in his life.
As if he had lived longer.
He gripped the edge of the crate, preparing to jump out, but he struggled to do so.
I stepped back, heart thudding in my throat.
I was alone in a dark tunnel with a stranger.
A man who looked disturbingly like the one I had just left.
"Who are you?!"
His attention, focused on exiting the crate, shifted back to me.
"Well... I thought I was more recognizable."
Behind the sweaty strands of black hair, his eyebrows arched, his stare more serious now.
Again, I could see him.
But it wasn't him.
In the small things, you could still differentiate them.
My heart could've burst through my chest.
"You're his brother," I said aloud, both for him and me.
That smirk twitched again at the corner of his cheek.
"Vincent!"
Both our heads turned to the voice coming from the other side, where bright lights were running toward us.
Firinne rushed in, immediately yanking open her backpack to pull out a heavy metal flask.
Vincent snatched it, gulping the water down.
"Easy," Firinne pulled on the flask, warning him not to drink too fast.
I grabbed her shoulder, this new reality settling in.
"Firinne, what the hell is going on?!"
I felt safer now that she had arrived. She seemed to know the man and wasn't thrown out like me by his presence. But with that safety came the space to start processing what was actually happening.
Prison guards, he said?
Firinne ignored me completely, already checking the other crate's content, then crouching to inspect the wheels at its base.
"Who is this?" I demanded. "This wasn't part of the plan!"
Kira appeared beside me, also carrying a heavy pack.
"Vincent," she greeted flatly, jaws clenched.
The man stopped drinking and considered the redhead.
"Kirana," he replied, matching her tone.
Kira's face darkened even more.
Vincent made another attempt to climb out of the crate. This time, both women moved to help, each holding one of his arms.
They both seemed to know him. They both seemed to expect his presence here.
Though he looked muscular, he was clearly weak, barely managing to sit on the floor. He leaned back against the crate, seemingly out of breath from climbing out of it. I felt guilty that I had slapped him only minutes ago.
"Eat," Firinne told him, digging through Kira's bag and pulling out a VitaFuel Bar.
"I'll recon," Kira muttered before running into the tunnel toward the oasis, turning up the light of her lamp as she went.
Vincent got another energy bar, and Firinne lifted the two heavy packs they brought into the now-empty crate.
"You have to tell me what's going on," I hissed behind her back.
I tugged at her sleeve, refusing to let her ignore me again.
At last, she looked at me.
"I'll explain later," she simply replied, pulling the panels shut on both crates.
"He's a prisoner," I stated aloud, wondering if maybe she wasn't aware.
"He's one of us," Firinne replied.
One of us.
What kind of group needed medicine... and a prisoner?
"What happens if we're caught?" I whispered, almost to myself only.
Smuggling medication hadn't seemed so bad. But freeing a prisoner? That was a whole other level of danger I hadn't signed up for. If we were caught, I wasn't only fearing the end of my contract... I was fearing turning into a prisoner, too.
"Did you follow my instructions?" she asked.
"Yes, but-"
"Then we won't get caught," she shrugged, in her usual confident tone, her green eyes steady and not blinking. "Can you walk?"
She turned to the man on the ground and offered him a hand.
"I can," he said, accepting it.
Their hands grasped each other's wrists, and she helped him to get up. He dusted himself off, seemingly only now realizing how filthy he was. I noticed the brief glances he gave me from beneath the greasy strands of dark hair. Firinne pulled from her pocket the same map she had shown me a few days ago.
"But you have to explain at least," I insisted, stepping beside her as she angled her lamp's light onto the map. "I never signed up for this."
I glanced toward the man behind us and caught him doing the same.
"You wouldn't have helped us if you knew," Firinne replied, not even looking at me. Her mind was clearly elsewhere. "I'll explain later."
I stared at her, stunned.
"Firinne—"
"Sade," she snapped, her eyes flashing annoyance at me for the first time since I met her. "This isn't the time or place."
It was the same harsh tone she had reserved for Kira until now. She gestured broadly at the dark tunnel around us. The light from the lamp reflected in her eyes, no longer the soft green I knew, but a stormier, greyer shade.
I stepped back, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.
"Sade?"
I turned to the man speaking my name.
"I'm Vincent," he said, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm sorry we have to meet... like this."
His tone was softer now, as if deliberately gentler than Firinne's.
Again, I found myself staring at his face. The light cast across his features, and I saw them more clearly: the same upward tilt of the eyes when he smiled, the same creases at the corners. His straight nose. The hard jaw.
And the cupid's bow of his lips.
It felt like seeing V, but some years older. Another version shaped by time and wear, but unmistakably... him.
A version living into another decade of his life already.
"I've been told I look like him," he spoke, reading my thoughts. "But I'd rather say... He's the one who looks like me."
A sardonic smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head, eyebrows arching with mockery.
I didn't like him.
We all turned as Kira emerged from the other side, huffing and puffing.
"All clear. Let's go."
"You stay here and shut the door behind you," Firinne repeated the instructions she'd already given me. "We'll be back in less than three hours. If you hear anything—anyone—"
"She should come with us."
Vincent's voice cut her off.
Both women turned to him.
"What?" Kira's whole face recoiled like he'd said something completely absurd.
Firinne didn't react. Her gaze locked with his.
Vincent held it, raising his brows slightly, as if they were used to communicating without words.
"Okay. Let's go," Firinne said at last, with a curt nod.
"Whaaat?!" Kira threw up her hands. "Are you serious?!"
"We'll need help pushing the crates," Vincent said, already positioning himself behind the crate with the backpacks. "I'll try my best, but I'm not in the best shape... And you look just as bad as I do." He nodded toward the bruises on Kira's face. "We could use some help."
Kira clenched her jaw, casting him a look that could kill. She shot Firinne the same glare, but this one with a silent "I might kill him."
But she did follow his order and got behind the crate anyway, pushing it with him.
I stood there in disbelief at everything that had just happened, and the fact that no one had even thought I could participate in this discussion. But a part of me did want to go. I wanted to meet this group and understand more about this mission. I knew more about the oasis than they did, apparently. And like Firinne had said... I was already involved. I might as well make sure we all get out safely.
I joined Firinne behind the crate full of medications and helped push.
The first part was easy. The second part was even easier, as the tunnel sloped downward. We had to slow down the crate more than anything. But the worst came at the steep incline at the end, just before the basement of the shed.
We were drenched in sweat from the tunnel's thick humidity and the effort.
We paused before the final push. Firinne opened the bags again and passed around water once we reached the small basement room.
"Ouch," Vincent winced again, holding the side of his face.
He noticed my look and gave me a small shrug, like he wanted to downplay his pain.
"I'm sorry I slapped you," I mumbled, taking the heavy flask he offered me with his other hand. "I had... a complicated day."
All the anger I should have felt earlier with V's manager had bubbled up and exploded on this man's face.
"I deserved it," Vincent answered with a crooked grin, peering at me through the dark strands of hair. "Sorry I called you a bitch... Finn told me about you. If there's a little bitch, here... It's me," he winced again, holding his hanging jaw in his hand. "It's... too'f... pen...", he uttered, massaging the side of his cheek with his knuckles.
Tooth pain, I understood, as well as the hint of acknowledgment of trust he had just given me.
I turned to Firinne, unsure what to make of her approval, but before I could say anything, we all froze.
Above us, in the shed, something was moving.
Vincent raised a finger to his lips, but it wasn't necessary. We all understood we had to remain silent, waiting for the next sound.
Suddenly, the trap door above us lifted, and dozens of pairs of hands reached for us.
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