(sorry for no update. i feel like this series has gone to shit, and i always get writer's block before the ending of a book. the end for this is coming up, by the way. i feel like i've really disappointed everyone and let it go downhill. i'll try to end the book strong. thank you for reading, i truly do appreciate it xx

p.s. it's *unedited* i will say that this chapter is hella intense and stressful. good luck.)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EVELYN GRABS MAXIE'S WRIST, hauling her away from the fence although no other experiments lurked there... yet. She clutches the young girl's shoulders desperately, forcing their eyes to meet.

"I'm not stupid enough to believe that you'd leave if I told you to," she says. "But if you're not going to leave, I need you to do that supernatural shit, okay?"

Maxie blinks, her mouth agape in fear. "I-I don't really know how, I just--"

"If you have to get angry or scared, then get angry and scared. We're going to need all the help we can get Maxie."

The younger nods rapidly, her hands already trembling as she wrings them together.

"I want you to stay by me the entire time, got it? I want you in my line of sight at all times."

Maxie nods again.

Evelyn drags a hand through her hair, peering out the gate. "They aren't too close yet. Probably taking their time to scare us more. You should find a weapon."

Maxie throat closes up. "Eve, I've never..."

"Trust me, if your life depends on it, never having held a weapon before won't stop you from using it."

Harry comes up behind her, his hand on her lower back. "You should get to higher ground before the swarm comes in. Wait until it thins out."

"Since when did I ever leave the thick of the fight?" Evelyn asks, giving him a look. "I'm not going anywhere, but Maxie is."

Maxie doesn't argue and nods, listening to Harry when he tells her to get on the rooftop of the conference hall where the archers are.

Evelyn turns to Harry, her lips pursed. "Why does this feel like the final brawl?"

Harry kisses her forehead. "Because it might just be."

"I can't tell if I'm relieved or terrified."

"Decide when it's over."

"Hey..." She reaches up to cup his cheek. "Don't die, okay?"

He kisses her lips briefly before pulling away. "You're the one who can't die. I'm not going to let it happen."

There's a shout from one of the soldier's at the gate that makes them pull apart. Max comes jogging up to them, a machete in one hand, gun in the other. His face is flushed red and he's already sweating, undoubtedly from nerves.

"They're slamming into the gate together to make it cave," he tells them, out of breath. "Dude, there's a lot of them. I don't think..." But he can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Evelyn bites the inside of her cheek. She wishes they could just set fire to all of them, but there's too many trees and buildings around to do something so careless. That sure would be annoying; to die from a forest fire in the middle of a battle. She'd rather take a more honorable death to at least prove she fought.

"We should stay together as long as we can," she tells them. "Where's Micah, Killian, and Gavriel?"

"Gavriel, at your service," the man himself says, sneaking up behind them. She smacks him in the shoulder for startling her. "As for the two lovebirds, I'm not sure. Killian was with the archers last I checked."

"Micah won't let him out of his sight," Harry points out. "It'll just be us four then."

"Mind if we join in?" Leo says as he, too, approaches, Monique at his side. "We'd be honored to have trustworthy allies fighting alongside us."

"The more the merrier," Evelyn says in a sigh, preparing her stance as she hears the growling of experiments. "Think they've breached the gate yet?"

"Not yet," Harry hums. Then a moment later, "Now they have."

And she sees the sea of bodies rushing towards them.

***

Killian fires arrow after arrow, aiming for the head and neck like Harry had once instructed. He sees the diseased experiments amongst the well ones. He can hear the difference in their growls and screams, as if animals have taken over their bodies. It gets harder and harder to aim the further the fight progresses because of the mix of Nicole's guys. Killian stops shooting altogether after a while, too afraid he'll accidentally hit an ally.

He looks down in the crowd instead, trying to find Micah. He needs to make sure he's still standing, still in one piece. There are so many bodies crushing together that it's hard to pick out him out. Killian leans forward, careful not to get too close to the edge, but still to no avail does he find him.

The other archers stop too, some of them shouting that they need to go down and help. Killian isn't the best swordsman, and he certainly isn't the best with guns. Aiming an arrow and aiming a barrel are totally different. But he knows he can't just sit up here and watch the battle rage on. He has to do something.

He grabs a sword discarded on the rooftop, following a few others archers over the edge of the building down the ladder. The archers immediately begin running once their feet hit the land. Killian makes sure to have his bow across his back before he jumps down as well, jogging for the crowd. He picks a few more off with his arrows before his supply runs out and he curses. It'll have to be hands-on now.

And the experiments are quick to notice the extra arrivals. Many break off from current fights just to pursue them instead. Killian steals his nerve, holding his sword firmly. He can wield it; he can do this. He can't be the only useless one of the field.

"Killian!" Maxie shouts from above, still on the rooftop where Harry commanded she stay.

He looks up at her.

"He's going to go for your right side," she tells him.

He returns his attention to his oncoming assaulter and, sure enough, the experiment flanks to the right in an attempt to knock Killian off balance. With Maxie's help, it's easy to dodge the attack and bring his sword down on the back of the experiment's neck. Not decapitated, but certainly out of the fight.

He scans the crowd again and this time he sees Micah, holding his own against a pack of experiments, both crazy and normal--or as normal as an experiment can be, he supposes. He sees Micah struggling and he knows he must be exhausted. There's no one around to help him as everyone else takes on their own handful of opponents. He doesn't have to think twice to start running to Micah's side.

"Killian, don't--!" he hears Maxie scream, but she doesn't finish her sentence before he's slamming himself against an experiment, both of them tumbling to the ground.

He drops his sword, but he doesn't need it for close combat. He yanks a dagger out of his boot while keeping pressure on the experiment's chest, not wasting a moment before shoving the blade in the monster's throat, twisting it until Killian no longer feels his breathing.

He doesn't have a chance to get off, though, as another experiment comes barreling into him. A diseased one. Turned, didn't Harry once say?

No matter. It's a hideous thing missing an entire cheek, both rows of decaying teeth exposed. He's not even sure it has its nose still, all he sees is a giant hole where it should be. Killian swipes his dagger, but the experiment is quick and grabs his arm, opening its mouth wide. Killian's heart races. He may not know what they are, but he definitely knows he cannot get bit by this thing.

He fights against its grip, but it's stronger than it looks. He throws his knee into its stomach, but it merely snarls at him and leans closer to his wrist. Killian throws his other hand into the experiment's face, but it's like beating on a brick wall. The experiment just takes it, barely flinching.

Killian squeezes his eyes shut.

Come on, Micah. Be that cliche hero, please.

His heart is racing faster and faster the longer it takes. He still fights against the monster's grip. He's still trying to get away.

Then, the weight on him is gone.

He lets out a big sigh.

Amen for cliches.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Micah roughly grab his hand and haul him up. "I told you to stay on the roof," he growls, blood on his face and hands and clothes, but Killian knows better than to be bothered.

"You needed help," Killian says, but he realizes now that he probably only made things worse for Micah since he had to save him.

Micah is livid, whether at Killian or the battle he isn't sure. His eyes are a darker red than usual, his jaw clenched tight. He tugs Killian, but not harshly. He must be enraged by the battle, then. "You can help by staying safe. Get back to the roof."

"Micah--"

Micah suddenly wraps an arm around Killian's neck and forces him to duck, a bullet whizzing right over his head. Killian's breathing is uneven now as the reality of the war punches him in the gut. He shouldn't have tried to help. He should have known better. What was Maxie trying to say when he left? Did she know something?

"Shit," Micah grumbles. "Stay behind me."

That's no problem. Killian can't even find the strength in him to stand, much less fight back. His head is throbbing, his vision blackening around the edges. Is he having a panic attack? He can't tell. All he hears are screams and gunshots, bodies hitting the ground. Bodies and bodies and bodies.

He manages to look over his shoulder. Micah doesn't seem the least bit tired anymore as he fights off enemy after enemy. Killian looks around for his sword. He can try one last time. He can get one more down.

He can't find his sword. Dirt is being kicked up in his eyes from the mass of feet around him. He coughs, rubbing at his eyes, trying to get to his feet. He gets knocked down by two scraping, throwing punches. One of those punches hits him in the side of the head. He falls onto his side. He shakes his head and tried to stand again. He needs to get to his feet at least. He's on his hands and knees now, nearly there.

The world is spinning.

He's so dizzy when he gets to his feet that he nearly collapses again, but somehow manages to stay upright. He can still hear the battle around him. He tries to open his eyes some more but the dirt is still there. It burns like hell.

"Killian!"

The scream is so desperate and terrified that Killian forces his eyes open against the sting of the dirt, his head whipping around. An experiment is coming towards him with a sword straight out, ready to pierce through his chest, his heart. Before Killian can even think about getting out of the way, the experiment disappears.

Micah's back is in front of him.

He's not moving like he would be fighting back.

Killian peers over his shoulder. He wishes he didn't look.

Micah has his feet braced in the dirt, both hands wrapped around the blade of the sword. Killian can see the blood dripping from his palms. It's dripping so fast, so much of it. The experiment is strong and pushes harder, causing Micah to groan against the pain, his teeth gritted. By the time Micah manages to twist the sword out of the experiment's grip, it's too late.

Micah falls to his knees, blood oozing from his hands and leaking from his stomach.

***

Evelyn's hair is stuck to her face with sweat and blood. She doesn't think it's her blood, but she may have a few cuts. Her bones are weak. She feels like keeling over. It's been going on for ages it feels like.

She's on her own apart from Max. Harry is ahead of her, keeping the stronger experiments from entering the camp. Leo and Monique disappeared right when the battle started, swept away by the storm. Gavriel is undoubtedly near Harry, but Evelyn isn't sure where. So she and Max fight shoulder to shoulder, sometimes back to back where a group pursues them at once.

Max is exhausted too, though, she can tell. His sword doesn't swing as violently, his eyes aren't as determined. She tries to encourage him every time either of them make a kill, but it's difficult to stay positive when there's a seemingly neverending flood of enemies.

"Max, stay focused," she shouts, glancing over at him warily on and off. He's making her anxious how he's barely lifting his arms.

She knows he never had to fight like this when he was in his camp. Evelyn is used to this--these constant battles where there's no end in sight. She's always found the end, though. Always in one piece. She doesn't plan on stopping that today.

She feels the knick of a blade on her arm, hissing through her teeth. She swings her sword around and the blade lands in an experiment's neck. It's like hacking at a tree trunk. She makes sure he's gone before pulling her blade out, kicking his body away from her.

She hears a groan of agony.

Her heart stops.

Please, please.

She turns and sees the sight she was dreading but somehow felt coming.

Max has jagged blade stuck in his side. He falls to the ground. The blood already starts pouring.

"Max!"

She swiftly kills the beast who injured her brother, then chops a few more down before dropping her sword, dragging her brother to the nearest building. The two duck behind it. It's bizarrely peaceful.

"Max, keep your eyes open," she snaps, slapping his cheek gently. She lays him carefully on the ground, moving quickly to his injured side. "I don't think it's the deep. You're going to be fine, okay? You're going to be fine."

But she can hear her heart pounding in her ears. She can feel her stomach churning and the bile in her throat. She can feel the tears already in her eyes.

"I just got you back, you asshole, you're not going to die." She doesn't know if she's assuring him or herself.

Max chuckles, a weak sound that's barely audible. "Duh. I lost months of teasing you that I still need to make up for."

"Exactly," she says, going along as she inspects his side. She's scared to pull the blade out in case she makes it worse. She wishes Harry were here. He would know. "Stay awake, okay? I swear to God, Max, if you close your eyes I'm going to kill you."

"Defeats the purpose of saving me then, doesn't it?"

Her eyes start stinging. Usually she would tell him to shut up, but now all she wants is to hear him talk for hours. Just so she knows she has hours with him.

She's not sure if it'll works, and she's almost positive it's selfish of her, but she tries anyway: "Harry!"

"My headache from you hurts worse than my side," Max jokes.

She hates and adores how he can joke right now.

She calls Harry again, louder, more desperate, more hopeless. She can see Max's eyes fluttering despite his determination to keep them open. She can see his chest rising and falling more slowly than before.

"Harry," she says in almost a whisper, her throat raw and her strength gone as Max lets out a sigh. She chokes on the word, "Please."

(hi again, you probably hate me now but i posted a short story called "it was always you" if you need a break from this... it's full of fluff. okay, don't hate me just yet, bye x)