Marc had run down a few blocks to the right of where the ambush had occurred, knowing that Cassie and Irene had gone in the opposite direction. He desperately wished to chase after them, but he knew that he was at risk of endangering himself doing so, and he had already been separated from the rest of his squad. He recalled how Cassie's fingertips had only barely brushed his own before he had been pushed away with the crowd. He hoped she was uninjured.

She'll be okay. She's with Irene, Marc reminded himself.

Marc wandered down the streets, confused by the layout of the headquarters. He realized the tower was growing farther in the distance, the opposite of his intended goal. If he was going to meet up with the other soldiers again, he needed to head back the right way.

He peered from the corner of a building, realizing the street ahead was the main street the others had come up. It was deserted now, save for a few discarded weapons and one or two bodies here and there. Marc crept forward, glancing around before practically fleeing to the other side of the street.

Marc breathed a sweet sigh of relief. At least he knew he was back on the same side as Irene and Cassie now, if they hadn't caught back up with the others already. Not wanting to risk walking the main street again, Marc began taking side streets once more, this time becoming satisfied that the tower was beginning to grow closer with each block he walked past.

It was quieter over here. Most of the fighting was taking place at the gates and near the center of the headquarters, though he assumed more fighting would occur as his allies grew closer to where Lynch was hiding.

Marc's walkie-talkie began to speak. He hissed and lowered the volume, only able to make out the last bit about cells being opened and a search for medics. A sigh of relief went through Marc. That meant that the others had successfully reached the prison and were hopefully defending it. At least they had managed to overtake one part of the headquarters thus far.

Marc continued up the street, wondering if he should rip out his walkie-talkie to contact Cassie and ask if she was all right. He could call for Irene as well, but the eerie silence prevented him from doing so. The last thing he wanted to do was be caught by a passing by Preserver soldier.

Marc heard a few footsteps in the distance and quickly pressed his body against a building. It seemed a few civilians were still escaping with some Preserver soldiers following them. There couldn't have been more than four of them, but Marc could see they were armed anyway. If he made a single movement, he would be shot on sight.

He watched until the footsteps were gone and stepped out from behind the building. He froze, hearing the click of a gun. Marc slowly turned his body, finding a gun pointed at him from behind. His eyes slowly connected with the man a few yards away who was holding the weapon. Anyone could recognize that honey-colored skin, brown eyes, tall and muscular frame, and dark hair.

Marc pulled the trigger without a second thought, watching the bullet strike. And then he pulled the trigger again, just to be sure, as Miguel staggered a few steps and collapsed. Marc realized suddenly how rapidly his heart had been beating.

Without staring at Miguel too long, Marc took off past him, back up the street, running as fast as he could. Why didn't he feel remorse? Why was he able to easily kill one of his comrades, one of his former friends, in a matter of seconds? He had pulled the trigger without a second thought.

I was thinking of my own safety, Marc attempted to convince himself. Miguel had proven his allegiance to the Preservers. He was going to kill Marc if Marc hadn't shot back. But Miguel had hesitated, Marc realized. He had hesitated just for a moment, giving enough time for Marc to make the first shot.

I can't afford to feel guilty right now, Marc reminded himself, continuing to travel north toward the building. He supposed it was wise to start heading back to the main street now. He wouldn't be surprised if some of their own soldiers were already back on track, ready to take down Lynch.

Marc turned his body, about to head back to the street he had come up, when he heard something in the distance. He paused, thinking at first it was an enemy, but it sounded like...crying, he realized.

He crept up the street again, listening to the quiet sobs get a bit louder. He only needed to listen to them for less than a minute to realize they were Cassie's. Marc eyes widened, and he began racing up the street. Was she hurt? Had a Preserver captured her?

"Cassie!" he called against his own judgment. He raced past a block, noticing someone out of the corner of his eye. He quickly retraced his steps, spotting Cassie in the distance. Her legs were splayed out under her, and she was holding something. Blood was seeping onto the snow around her.

"Cassie," he breathed in relief as he walked toward her. She appeared okay, but his heart began to seize when he realized there were not something, but someone, she was cradling in her arms. As he grew closer, he saw the wispy strands of blonde hair and noticed the blood stained on parts of Cassie's face and fingers.

Marc's footsteps came to a halt beside the two. Irene was lying limp in Cassie's arms, her shirt dyed a deep red from what appeared to be a fatal bullet wound. Cassie was quietly crying, rocking the body back and forth.

"Cassie," Marc said, crouching down next to her.

"I couldn't save her," Cassie breathed. "It wasn't even a soldier that shot her. It was just a civilian."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Marc asked, placing a hand on her arm.

"I-I'm fine. I shot the man who shot her," Cassie said. She finally turned to make eye contact with him, her eyes swollen with tears. "It's not fair!" she practically screeched.

"Sh, quiet down," Marc warned. He was trying to look away from Irene's dead body, but it was nearly impossible with how close Cassie was holding the girl to her. "I know it's not fair," Marc said quietly. "Miguel is dead. I shot him."

"Huh?" Cassie asked.

"He was escaping with some other civilians, I think. He must have noticed me and was plotting to sneakily shoot me, but I shot him first," Marc explained. "I barely hesitated. I shot him without another thought."

Another sob wracked through Cassie's body as she glanced down at Irene.

"Cassie, you need to pull yourself together," Marc tried to say as calmly as possible. "We still need to get to Lynch's building. Then we can avenge Irene."

"I-I..." She was too at a loss for words.

Marc slowly began drawing her arms away from Irene's body. They fell loosely, without any struggle. Her tears were beginning to cease, despite the occasional sniffle here and there.

"What will I tell Elijah?" Cassie breathed.

"We'll figure that out later. Right now we need to—" Marc was cut off by the sounds of footsteps and a hand grasping him. Within a second, another hand was on him, and he was being pulled up on his feet by Preserver soldiers he realized.

"Marc!" Cassie screeched, gently lowering Irene's head to the ground as she stood up, trying to reach for him. He was about to call out for her to run, to try to reach the others, but he watched a few Preserver soldiers come down the street, circling Cassie in a matter of seconds.

"Cassie!" Marc called, his voice hoarse. They had lingered too long. He should have just pulled her away from Irene and run up the street instead of trying to comfort her. And now...

Cassie's sobs were growing again, and he could see her struggling in the distance. He tried breaking free from the grasps of the other soldiers, but one wrong move, and he would be shot. This was it. He had subjected himself to death. He had been caught, and they were going to kill him.

"Marc, no!" Cassie screeched as the Preservers began taking her away.

Marc felt his heart shatter into pieces. He opened his mouth and tried to call out to her, but nothing came out. Even if he knew she wouldn't be killed, he was sure she was in for torture. And now that she was captured, the Preservers had gained an advantage again.

Marc practically dragged his feet as the Preservers took him away. All had gone wrong quickly. What little hope they had at defeating the Preservers and taking down Lynch had now vanished completely.