DAMIEN

I jumped at the sudden sounds echoing through the tunnel. There was nothing around me. It was just a few rats scurrying through the halls. The thought didn't put me at ease. I shivered.

I hate rats.

I'd been walking through the empty, never-ending halls of the Raven base for over an hour, nearly two. At first, I tried searching for my brother, taking numerous paths as soon as I came across an intersection in the halls. It did nothing besides make me lost for a short while. Finally, I decided to continue on without him. I'm sure he was fine. I'm sure I would be fine.

After wandering around a bit longer, I found a staircase tucked away in the corner of an intersection between two hallways. The odd placement made sense. The Ravens couldn't place the staircase somewhere obvious if they were trying to hide them between the walls. But, if they took so much care to hide in gaps in the floorplan like I expected, then how did they hide the Blood Battles cavern and docking station between floors? The rooms must've been twenty feet tall and they had to have stored the water for the battles in large tanks, which would also need to remain hidden.

How did they do it?

It didn't matter at the moment. I would figure it out later. I'm sure Arielle or Xavier would manage to capture at least one high-ranking Raven to interrogate for answers. I needed to focus on taking any information I can from the Raven servers and then set up the explosives. I trusted that Arielle was well on her way to Indigo.

So I managed to climb six floors up before the staircase ended, forcing me back into the identical halls. Not a single Raven appeared in my way. They were probably watching as I walked straight into a trap, but there wasn't much I could do about it at the moment. I would have to deal with it when it came.

Tapping the screen integrated into my cuff, I activated the sensors. They would lead me to areas where other devices were sending out and receiving any form of signals. I would be able to track down the servers, and then Arielle and Xavier and anyone else in this stupid base who used a Tab of any kind.

I looked down at the screen. There were a few small signals coming from all around me, most likely cameras and light controls, but a major port of them seemed to be concentrated only a floor above me. I just needed to find a way up there.

I want some of Nydia's sugar cookies.

I shook my head, pushing the sudden thought away. I'd been way too distracted all of today, which was terrible timing. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much coffee. Or maybe I should've drunk more. I wasn't really sure.

Besides, I wasn't even sure where Nydia was. The last clue I had to her whereabouts was when she seemed to be at the bomber's house before us. I didn't even know what she was doing there. I had my suspicions, of course, but they couldn't be true. They just couldn't. Even Xavier didn't believe it, or he would've told me. There was no way she...

No.

I shook my head. I wouldn't think about her either until we left the Raven base.

I turned the corner, entering a particularly long and dark hallway. There was only one light in the distance while colored lights hung, like those of fire alarms, hung in a long line. With a start, I realized the lights were alternating between blue and red.

They were cop car lights.

My stomach sank, though I wasn't sure why.

I continued down the hallway carefully, hoping there would be a staircase at the end. Right when the end came clear, an open doorway sitting at the end of the hallway, things went to hell.

The exits at both ends slid shut, metal doors locking me in.

I fucking hate the Ravens.

There was a low whirring, and I was scared the floor would open beneath me again, like in the Blood Battles. Instead, a white mist, almost completely translucent, wafted down from the vents all around the hallway.

I brought my shirt up to my nose, trying to block the mist from entering my system until I found a way out. I thought it was chloroform or poison.

It wasn't poison, but it might as well have been.

In my hurry to reach the door and find a way to break it open, I accidentally took a breath. It was the smallest of breaths, just a whiff, but it was enough.

The air was filled with the scent of a silky sweetness, one that reminded me of balls or the parties of the rich. It was the scent of watching a nice sunset on Cressida, a cool breeze blowing into the long glass balcony. It was the scent of my destruction.

Alcohol.

I froze.

My mind whirled. While it couldn't have been hard to scour through files of my behavior, or my stay at the infirmary after the car crash, only certain people would have obtained access to the files and been able to piece my addiction together. We definitely had a Raven spy in the ranks of the Assassins, someone fairly high up.

Still, they wouldn't be able to take control of my mind no matter how hard they tried. I am a Kingston. I calmed myself down, taking deep breaths and lowering my heart rate.

Besides, there was nothing to drink. No way to relapse.

And then the lights turned on, playing the patterns of cop cars. Voices crackled on the speakers.

"Damien," the smooth voice of a boy said, "you're in no state to drive."

My heart seemed to stop beating, my throat constricting. The sound of his voice, his desperate voice, stung my chest.

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," I heard myself say.

"Rider, let it go," Rosalind said from the backseat. She forgot to stop recording a video she took in the bar. At least, that's what I thought. I found out later through Chance Dayholt that she was yet another Raven spy. Maybe she was pushing me to my limits, waiting for me to slip up something useful. I should've known a real friend wouldn't wish for me to ruin my life for a few minutes of cheap thrills.

"He's not even that drunk," she continued.

"There's nothing called 'not that drunk'."

"Rider, just shut the fucking door," I slurred.

"No."

I listened as Rosalind reached through her window on the passenger side and pushed the door shut. I had locked it before he could get out. I signed the contract for his death.

I couldn't breathe. My head spun. I leaned against the wall, but my arm slipped and I fell to the ground. It seemed to grow hot, unbearably hot. I was sweating, but yet I couldn't stop shivering. The scent of alcohol was intoxicating, the memories of that night overwhelming.

"Are you two crazy?" he shouted as I started driving. I could remember picking up to nearly fifty miles per hour over the speed limit in a minute. The street lights flashed by and all I could see of him were glimpses of light brown hair, powerful dark eyes. But his voice was as clear and silky as always.

I could remember everything. Every little thing.

"He's been more drunk than this and drove us home perfectly fine."

"He got lucky! You think that's gonna happen every time?"

"You know what does happen every time? Your incessant complaining."

"Rosalind," I said. "Don't insult him."

"He's being a pooper."

"I'm being logical!"

"That's why I love him," I said.

"But not enough to listen to me."

"I'll be fine," I said. "I'm a Kingston."

My eyes stung. I suppose it was true.

"Even Kingstons can't live forev—"

Rosalind shouted, the sound of crushing metal filled my ears, the world spun, and Rider's voice was drowned out. Later, I would see his face hanging with scars, his blood spilling from his forehead, frothing from his mouth. I would see him again when they patched him up as best as they could and placed him in the coffin. I would see his face in perfect resolution plastered everywhere during the funeral, his eyes following me wherever I went. But I would never hear his voice. It would never be as it was in person, when he spoke or when he laughed or when he cried. It was gone.

The hall was silent. I could taste the salt of my own tears, though I didn't know when I started to cry. I gasped for air, suffocating by my own memories, my own thoughts. They were everywhere—pressing in, pushing down, pulling me apart. I covered my ears, but none of it would stop. It couldn't stop.

You killed him. You're still alive. He's dead.

And then the speakers turned back on, playing it all over again, and the voices meshed with my own. They were too loud. Too, too loud. I pressed down harder to no avail. I still couldn't breathe. I tilted sideways, hitting the hard floor.

And then the world drifted far, far away.

So... I didn't win the Wattys.

It was a bit disappointing at first, but I expected it (especially since I can clearly see the flaws in the Wattpad draft which was what I submitted) and, therefore, managed to prepare for it. So, don't worry, I still have further plans for the Crown Assassins and, of course, improvements in store! ;)

On a lighter note, I can't wait to read all of the stories that won the Wattys! Congratulations to everyone who won! And, if you didn't win, always remember to keep practicing and improving and don't make any impulsive/rash decisions in the heat of the moment. Take some time to process it and reflect on your work so that you can succeed in the future! (I will certainly be taking this advice to heart)

Also, I have an idea for another story that's been nagging me for a while, so I decided to finally start working on it. I'm working on worldbuilding at the moment. However, I've decided to save it for traditional publishing and not post it on Wattpad because I don't think Wattpad is the right platform for the story. Still, I promise to keep you guys updated and I hope all of you will get the chance to read it some day.

And, I'm thinking about having a few select people who will get to read the chapters as I write them. Essentially, I want to emulate a Wattpad-style schedule so that I can stay motivated to continue writing, especially when people are expecting a new chapter every week. This will be, as mentioned earlier, off Wattpad, most likely through Google Drive/Docs. The people involved can only be a select few (probably no more than five total for the early stages) and they must keep everything absolutely secret. I was going to mostly rely on irl friends, but if any of you are interested in this, let me know!

Anyways, that's all I have for you guys and there has been no further valuable intelligence divulged by the Great Philosopher Connor Claymon this week (I'll make sure he shares some next week), so that's it for today.

See ya!