Chapter Thirty-Eight
Fate
Janelle cried out. Rafe looked at her and found her staring white-faced into the smoke. She raised a hand to her mouth, as she often did when frightened, and stepped away from him.
Lifting his sword, he held it ready for whatever was coming toward them. His watery eyes made his vision blurry, and the continuous tolling of that damn bell masked all sound. It could be two, five, or a dozen men approaching.
Or those mutants, who had found a way inside the compound.
He never anticipated the tall figure dressed in blood-splattered armor to appear from out of the smoke like a wraith. A figure with golden-red hair, and a long scar etching his face from his eye to his mouth. The shadows of flames danced across his breastplate and shoulders, giving the impression of a
