**UNEDITED**

(WOW WOW WOW I'm so freaking sorry I haven't updated in turdy seven years--never gonna let that go--please forgive me. I explained it vaguely on my message board. My father & grandma have been in and out of the hospital, for different reasons and both of them are all right, but I've been super busy. I also tried to do NanoWrimo but... that was a fail :( anyways, here's an update and I hope it makes up for my absence. Only a couple chapters left... I'll be working on the third book soon! xx)

--also, new covers are done by the amazing and kind harryseditor on Instagram!--

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

EVELYN SWEARS UNDER HER breath as she kicks the dead beast whose throat she just slashed. The blood has gotten onto her boots, the stickiness of the liquid most certainly going to make the trek through the mud more difficult. She wipes the blade on her jeans, then tucks her knife back into her belt loop and looks up to survey the rest of the damage.

Harry finishes snapping a neck, his mouth mercifully clean to show he hadn't given into the monster inside him. He's panting, though, five bodies littered around his feet. It had taken Evelyn the entire five minute ordeal just to take care of that one, and here Harry is offing majority of the pack. The lot had been huddled in the house Damien so cleverly suggested they reside in for the night. Speaking of, he's currently fighting off a straggler, clearly not so adept.

Harry rolls his eyes and motions for Evelyn's knife. She hands it to him, and within moments it's hilt-deep in the lingering beast's neck. Damien shrieks, shoving the body off of him as it were diseased.

"Aren't you a soldier?" Evelyn remarks.

He shoots her a glare.

She holds her blood-stained hands up innocently--or as innocently as she could be. "Hey, you're the idiot who disturbed their nest."

"Despite my rank, I hate fighting," he bites back. "It's barbaric."

"Aw, how sweet," she coos. He gives her an obscene gesture in return.

She notices then how still Harry is beside her. She sighs dreadfully, knowing the look on his face all too well as he listens intently. She doesn't bother looking around or listening herself; it would pointless. For a brief moment as she considers this, she's baffled at how wholly she entrusts Harry with her life. Literally.

"How many?" she asks, stomping over to snatch her dagger out of the beast's neck. She cleans the blade again on her pant leg, the blood seeping through to her thigh. She cringes, but ignores it. She should be used to it, after all.

Harry purses his lips. "It's distant. Only one, so we'll let it be."

She nods curtly.

Damien frowns. "I can't even hear that."

"Well, you aren't the doctor's prodigee," Harry replies snarkier than he intended, she thinks.

Damien falls silent and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

"Come on," Evelyn says softly, lightly pushing Harry's back. "Let's go inside."

He walks without her forcing him, Damien trailing behind. The three of them scope out the house one more time to ensure there's nothing else lurking in the shadows. She scavenges through the kitchen afterwards, finding a few cans of green beans. Not the best dinner, but it'll have to do. She grabs one, and tries not to think about the dinner Harry and Damien will have.

She goes into the mainroom where a shattered television sits, and plops down on the couch in front of it as if she'd just gotten home from school and plans on watching cartoons to avoid her homework. She clenches her jaw as she ponders such a life that feels like eons ago. Almost angrily, she tosses a green bean into her mouth. She eats in silence, albeit against her better judgement, she imagines she's watching the rom-com she never got to see since it came out the week the world fell apart.

Harry comes back down the hall from examining the bedrooms and pauses a moment when he sees her. A strange look passes through his eyes as he casually sits next to her, his arm draped across the back of the couch. He glances to her, then to the broken television.

"What was your favorite film?"

She eats another bean before answering. "I never really had a favorite. I loved movies, and practically every genre."

"I quite liked Violetta the Giraffe, if I'm honest."

She turns to him with a failed attempt to stifle a grin. "Had a thing for children icons, did you?"

His smile is somewhat wry. "Well, when you had a little sister constantly running the channels, you learned to enjoy what you could."

She understands then, and her amusement disperses. "What happened to her?" She doesn't know if he'll answer, but she figures there's no reason to offer condolences that no longer matter, if they ever did. Apologizing always seems superficial and meaningless.

For a second, she doesn't think he will answer her. She almost wishes she never asked after seeing the genuine pain etched into his features. His arm falls from the back of the couch to in between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Right when she's about to tell him she shouldn't have asked, he speaks in a low tone. "She was beheaded. I think you can guess by whom. Her and my mother both, right in front of me."

Evelyn is speechless for a while. Suddenly not hungry, she puts the can of beans on the floor next to her feet. Then she situates on the couch to where she's facing Harry and crosses her legs. She's still scrambling for something to say when he continues.

"That was a few months after I was drafted. My mom was sending me letters, always telling me to stand up for myself and what I believe in, not what they want me to do. She was constantly preaching about peace. Hated the war. The doctor caught whiff of the letters, of course, and he thought he could beat the defiance out of me. Or lash it, or brand it, or drown it... You name it."

He angles slightly so he can push down the sleeve over his shoulder. Imprinted in his skin is the single word DISGRACE. The skin is still raised from the branding. Evelyn feels nauseous.

"There's a larger one, too." Harry glances at her with another weak smile. "I think there's four in all saying the same thing. The funniest part is that he actually thought that would work. We have two very different definitions of 'disgrace.'"

She wonders how she'd never noticed all the marks marring his skin before. She's seen him shirtless a few times, but she supposes since scars are so common amongst everyone these days, she hardly registered his. That makes her feel cruel. She should have noticed them. Seeing them makes her feel guilty. But what could she have done?

She hadn't even known him.

She hadn't known anything about the doctor or his experiments or the evil within the walls of laboratories. She hadn't the faintest idea that anything was amiss aside from the war itself. Actually, the government had tried to pass the beasts off as other countries' doings, not our own. That is, until one of them got ahold of the president. That's when the country really went into the dark age. People are dependent on a leader to give them orders, and they crumble when there's no leader to do so.

Hoping to lighten the mood, she takes off her jacket to reveal a burn on her upper forearm. "Older brother put a sparkler on me when I took his slice of chocolate cake on New Year's."

She lets out a subconscious sigh of relief when he smiles, much easier this time. "I trust you gave him hell for it?"

"A whole week's worth. I was only about nine, so I did what I could. I hid all of his soap and shampoo once and took all of the towels out of the bathroom. Pretty sure the neighbors heard him scream at me. Then he ever so foolishly entrusted me with fixing his bowl of spaghetti--"

"Oh God, you didn't spit in it, did you?"

"Please, don't insult me. I dumped a whole bottle of pepper in his sauce and told him Mom put extra basil."

"You're evil."

"I try." She offers her own mischievous grin for show, wiggling her eyebrows. "He was paranoid the entire week, and even after I stopped. I had the internet to thank for many of my schemes. People are incredibly imaginative."

It's then that Damien sticks his head in front outside. "Hey, can we go now? I'm starving."

Evelyn scrunches her nose at the thought, reaching for her green beans again.

Harry chuckles at her and gets off the couch. "You have your dagger, right? There's a rifle in the master bedroom. I think it's loaded, but it might not be good for anything. We'll be quick since it's dark and--"

"Harry, I survived for months on my own. I think I can handle a few minutes."

He gives her a look, then a curt nod. It's a pleasant surprise when he bends down and kisses her forehead. Her cheeks redden at the small action, a smile impossible to hide stretching across her face. She kicks him in the butt towards the door.

"We'll be back," he assures her, then the door closes behind them.

Even after months in solitude, she isn't used to it anymore. Being alone is suddenly suffocating, and she feels the need to look over her shoulder every second. She shoves a few green beans in her mouth and stands, her back to the wall for extra comfort. She stares around the empty room as if a threat will pop out from beneath the floor and end her. Her fingers itch to grab her dagger, but instead she stuffs beans into her mouth.

She begins to pace the floor without realizing it. Deciding she's more comfortable outdoors than in, she slips out onto the back porch. She used to be in nature for days on end, so it feels much more natural to have the breeze caress her cheeks and the stars to twinkle above her. Outside, she has all the space in the world to maneuver or escape. She might even feel free on her good days.

She sighs through her nose, closing her eyes. When she opens them, she sees a figure walking towards the house. Her breath catches in her lungs. It must be the man Harry had heard earlier. He said he was too far away to be a concern, but obviously he'd been mistaken. It has to be a beast to have traveled so quickly. The silhouette is marching briskly towards her, like he's in a hurry but trying to keep an even pace.

She snatches her knife from her belt and falls back into the house, latching the glass door though she knows it will do no good. A comforting thought, at least. She quietly walks down the hall, peering into the three rooms to decide which she should use to hide. Then she scolds herself and slinks back up to the hallway that leads to the backyard. She flattens herself against the daisy wallpaper, waiting to hear the latch on the door snap.

She waits. And waits.

And waits.

She entertains the idea of the beast entering through the front, but surely he'd seen her go in from the back. She doesn't like to think of them being overly clever, no matter the evidence that proves her wrong. She steadies her breathing and doesn't move. A flit of the eyes down the hall and back confirms he had not yet entered the home at all.

Then she does hear something, a scrape like nails on glass. She tightens her hold on the dagger's hilt, counting the seconds. The latch snaps; the door slides open. She counts the footsteps. She waits until he's right in the middle, a perfect distance for a knife throw. If she can distract him, she can get out of the house and perhaps trap him until Harry returns. She's too exhausted to fight.

Once she's certain he's in position, she grits her teeth and pulls herself around the edge of the wall, flinging the knife with precision and anger. She can't go a single hour without these buffoons ruining any peace of mind she may gain.

However, as soon as the dagger leaves her hand, her eyes go wide and her jaw slacks. The blade does not meet between his collarbones like she intended. No. He grabs the blade with his inhuman speed, the tip mere centimeters from meeting its mark. He doesn't flinch as the blade slices his palm open. In fact, he looks quite amused as he meets her eyes.

"I suppose I should've known better than to sneak up on you."

"Micah," she breathes in disbelief. Maybe the universe is with her after all. "How did you get here?" Then she gasps in realization. "Where's Robbie? You still have him, don't you? I swear to God, Micah, if you let anything--"

"Relax, relax. He's fine. I left the others behind so I could scope out the neighborhood. I caught your scent." He hands the dagger back to her, wiping his cut hand on his jeans. "Still, that wasn't a very nice way of greeting, you know."

"You left him? Without knowing the area at all? I don't trust Michelle as far as I could throw her, so what makes you think--"

"Good grief, Evelyn. Give me a bit of credit, would you?" He huffs. "I have someone capable of watching over him. Don't worry, he's human," he comments a bit sardonically with an eye roll.

She lets the tension out of her shoulders. "I'll go with you to get him."

"We better wait for lover boy to get back or he'll have my head on a spike," Micah says. "He'll go completely ballistic if he thinks you've gotten captured again. Best let him return first."

She wrings her hands, not wanting to waste any more time. Could their measly group really be reuniting after so many times getting separated? Of course, she still needs to find Locke and Sasha and maybe even Erik before she can fully call them complete. She tries to picture a life of them all together without the fear of being ripped apart over and over again.

She can't.