A clap of thunder roused the little boy from a deep sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, groaning at the fading light outside his window. Clouds the colour of his mother's eyes billowed, covering the stars, the moon, any sign of light in his world. The grumble of the skies blocked out all noises – all but one. The rasping of voices.

Frowning, the boy slid out from under his covers, wincing as his feet hit the cold floor, and tiptoed into the hallway. At the end, his sister's door was closed, a slim panel of light managing to escape from underneath. He started towards it when the voices drew his attention to the staircase. The boy turned on his heel and moved slowly downwards, pausing to listen to the shouts.

"I can smell it."

"Smell what, Mary?" The words were slurred, the voice deep. His father.

The boy tiptoed down the stairs until he could see the room. His father, leaning against the back of the couch, and his mother, sitting on it with her head in her hands.

"The alcohol on your breath. I didn't know the Enforcers were naïve enough to trade with you."

He chuckled. "They were smart enough to know a man of power."

Mary sighed as she stood, eyes glassy. "Bartholomew, you're drunk. We'll discuss this in the morning."

His hand closed on her arm like a vice. She winced, trying to twist out of his grip.

"You're hurting me."

"How could you?"

She stopped moving. "How could I what?" she spat.

As he yanked her towards him she gasped, tears spilling from her eyes. That only made him angrier. "You know what."

Mary shook her head. "I, I don't know what you're-"

Her words were cut short by a fist closing around her throat.

The boy took the stairs two at a time, stumbling as he missed the last one, and didn't dare stop until he reached the pair. At the sight of him Bart released Mary. She fell to her knees, heaving in deep gulps of air that never seemed to be enough for her lungs. The boy glanced between the pair of them as his hands began to shake. He'd never seen his father like this.

"Just in time."

Bart swung at a boy, sending him spiralling across the floor. He threw an arm out to catch himself and groaned as pain splintered up it. A metallic taste filled his mouth; the finger he raised to his lip came away stained crimson. Bart aimed a kick for the boy's abdomen, pummelling again and again, and no matter how much the child begged him to stop, he wouldn't. It only ever stopped when Bart uttered those four, brutal words.

"You're not my son."

And then, when the boy looked close to death, when all he could smell or taste or see was blood, when his parents had both gone upstairs, the blonde girl crept down. She held him, as she always did, with tears in her eyes, and said the words that reverberated around his brain with each beating. "Next time, you don't go downstairs. You stay in your room, in your wardrobe, until it's silent. And then we go to bed as if nothing ever happened. Nothing will ever happen to you again. Okay, James?"

"Ashley!"

James awoke with a start, his heart beating so fast and furious it could have woken the entire city. He waited for his breathing to slow, return to a normal pace, but the shifting shadows in his room made it impossible to calm down. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and switched on the lamp. The sky outside was dark, too dark to be evening or morning. His watch confirmed it: 11.56 PM.

The fact that he woke himself up by screaming his sister's name was not lost on him. Ashley's disappearance weighed not only on his waking hours but his unconsciousness too. She had always been the one who dragged him out of his nightmares – unless he was at Kyra's, because he never had them with her. But Ashley had been gone for a few months, and the nightmares were in high supply. He hadn't had them that bad since he was a child. It was miraculous he woke up after only one; better than the night before, where he'd slept through ten before coming to, covered in sweat, scratches and salty tears.

How can I leave her there to die when she saved my life too many times to count? he thought. The answer came quicker than the question: he couldn't - no, he wouldn't. Ashley was going to live even if it cost him his life.

James tousled his hair, thinking. Ashley was being held in the securest of Arabel's facilities. While his duties had occasionally sent him there undercover, he'd never attempted a mission alone, and without backup it would be close to impossible. But that sliver of possibility was all he needed.

Dressing in a rush, James made it out the front door and into the street in under a minute. He pulled up his hood as he approached the nearest street drain and leaned over it, teetering as he blinked into the darkness. He wasn't a stranger to long drops, but the thought of dropping an unknown distance onto uneven ground he couldn't even see made his knees shake. Huffing, he shook his head. "Get a grip, you're doing this for her."

He prepared himself for the drop, wiping his hands against his shirt, jumping up and down, cracking his limbs to rid them of air. James eased himself down the ledge until only his fingertips suspended him. "This is fun," he murmured. "Exactly how I like to spend my nights." He bent his knees, and then he dropped.

As his feet hit the ground he rolled back onto the balls of his feet, groaning as sharp tingles rose from his heels. The pain was forgotten as soon as he became aware of the smell. Gagging, he stood quickly, using his shirt to cover his nose. Underfoot the ground was squishy, and James was glad the darkness concealed whatever he was walking on.

High up in the air, a wavering, hollow square of light caught his eye. Nose blocked, he crept sideways until he was directly below it. The wall curved upwards under his palms; he felt the surface with his arms, digging his fingers into groves between the bricks, finding foot holds as he climbed up the wall blindly. Sweat soaked his palms. Climbing in the dark unsupported was nothing like the training he'd done in the past, where a mistake could be fixed by falling onto a mat and starting over. If he fell here, he'd die here. And there was no way he would willingly die in that stench.

The square of light was within his reach. Grunting, he pulled himself up until he was inline with it and ran his fingers around it, searching for a handle, a gap, anything that would allow him to enter the light. His fingers caught on a groove. Grinning, he hooked into it and pulled it out, nearly losing his balance as the small door swung out towards him. He adjusted his grip and climbed into the space. The passage was slim and square, and shed light on the sewer below. He didn't dare look at the muck he'd come from; what little food he'd been able to eat lately would come flying back up.

Arms shaking, he pulled himself into the crawl space and made his way to the end. This drop was only a metre, much more his size. Past it, the path dropped into nothing, and two thick metal rails hung unsupported in that space. As he swung his legs around to dangle off the edge, something cold latched on his ankle and yanked. A scream ripped itself from his throat as the world spun. He blinked, once, twice, until he could be sure of what he was seeing. A six story drop to ragged rocks below. And him, suspended upside down by an unknown figure. Using all his strength he struggled to pull himself up, to catch a glimpse at the person holding him.

"Hayes?" His voice came out in a scream as the blood rushed painfully to his head.

"Did you really think you weren't being watched after that meeting?"

"Well, yes." At his words Hayes loosened his grip, tightening it just before James could fall. He shrieked and tried to grab onto the rough stone wall behind him. "Okay, okay. I'll stop! Just please. Let me up!"

Hayes did as James asked, dropping him onto the edge of the cavern. He scrambled backwards until he was as far away from the ledge as possible. Heights didn't bother James, but being dangled over a giant drop wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He clenched his head between his knees until his breathing slowed; his brain turned to Ashley, to what atrocities were happening to her while he sat doing nothing.

"You know I have to go after her. You know I have to."

Hayes knelt by his side. "You can't. You'll expose us and die in the process."

"I can't just leave her there!"

The man grabbed James' face roughly with his hands, forcing him to look into those familiar dark eyes, at the faint wrinkles crinkling the umber skin. "You have to."

James took a deep breath and closed his eyes, realising what had to be done. "Sorry."

"It's fine, you just weren't think-"

In a flash he whipped his arm up to catch Hayes in the face, knocking him backwards. James scrambled upwards and away from Hayes; it was the wrong direction but it was the only one he could risk. Hayes was fast, but James was the fastest. "You'll forgive me one day," he called over his shoulder as he rushed around the corner.

He froze. The path ahead was blocked by a wall of shadows too uniform to be intangible.

"Come on, we don't have to do this." He crossed his arms behind his back, feeling for the outline of the knife in his back pocket. It was gone – probably shaken loose when Hayes held him over the cavern. He held back a groan.

"It seems as though we do."

James' limbs turned to lead. He'd know that voice anywhere. As the man stepped out of the shadows, his fears were confirmed. The Commander. Icy blue eyes, towering frame and scarred pale skin that hadn't aged in years. His stomach filled with dread as he stepped back, all too aware of the threat behind him.

"Sir, please. I'm begging you not to make me do this."

The man chuckled. "You think you can? I've always admired the spirit of Henderson children, however misplaced it is."

James bit his lip to hold back a retort. "Please. She's my sister." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Footsteps echoing, the man sauntered forward, stopping within arm's reach. "And your loyalty lies with me."

James' eyes met the man's across from him, blue on blue, so different and yet so similar. "I would do anything for her."

"Anything? Even betraying your leader, your family, the people you love? All for her?"

The people you love. A familiar face with hazel eyes and dark hair swam before his vision. Grimacing, he blinked Kyra away, and said, "For Ashley, I would do it."

The man grinned and cocked his head. "I'll keep that in mind."

James stumbled backwards under the weight of a fist, but something caught him and pushed him back into the throng. The others stepped forward, close enough that he could see their faces. They were people he knew, people he trained with, friends. He curled his hands into fists.

James would not go down without a fight.

—

Hey guys! How's it going?

Another James chapter! One more Ethan chapter to post and then it's all Kyra to the end. What do you guys think? Have you enjoyed getting in their heads?

Please vote and comment if you enjoyed this. I hate asking but honestly your feedback is so important to me, so any thoughts are welcome. xx