ASTRID

CHAPTER 6

I still don’t understand what just happened.

The fire-breathing man…

I touched his skin, and something changed. His power flickered—disappeared. And then… he died.

It doesn’t make sense. It’s an impossible puzzle, pieces scattered, refusing to fit together.

There are unnaturals in this world. That much is clear. But how? Were they born this way, or did someone make them? Was his fire-breathing ability the result of genetic alteration? Experimentation?

A shiver runs down my spine.

Kenny’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“We have to follow your father's order, Astrid!” He’s still insistent, pulling at my arm as we push through the destruction. The walls groan under the weight of fire and debris. This place won’t hold much longer.

“No.”

I yank my arm free.

I won’t run.

The wreckage around us is proof enough—this isn’t just an attack. It’s an extermination. And if we keep running, we’ll be nothing more than prey.

Kenny curses under his breath. “Astrid, there are others—stronger ones. We just got lucky earlier.”

I turn to him sharply.

“If you’re scared, Kenny, then turn back.” My voice is cold, unwavering. “I won’t stop you.”

I tighten my grip on the rifle, feeling its weight steady me.

“But I was trained for this.” My pulse pounds, my exhaustion buried beneath raw determination.

“So I will fight.”

I push forward, my grip tightening around the rifle. The air is thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning metal and flesh stinging my nose. I don’t stop. I can’t. Not when my father’s men are falling, not when the enemy is tearing through them like they’re nothing.

Kenny is still behind me, his breaths uneven, his presence a constant reminder that I’m not alone. But I can feel his hesitation, the way he lingers just a step too far back, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind.

We stick to the walls, slipping between shadows, dodging enemy patrols as we navigate through the burning corridors. The wreckage is everywhere—flames licking the ceilings, bodies crumpled on the ground. Some of my father’s men are still alive, groaning in pain, but we can’t stop.

And then I see him.

A soldier—no, a monster—stands in the middle of the hallway ahead, his presence enough to make my breath hitch. He’s massive, built like a fortress, with muscles straining beneath a torn combat suit. Blood stains his knuckles.

And there are bodies at his feet.

I suck in a breath, gripping my rifle so tightly my fingers ache.

One of my father’s men lunges at him from the side, gun aimed—

But before he can fire, the man with inhuman strength moves.

Fast.

Too fast.

He catches the soldier by the throat and lifts him like he weighs nothing. A sickening crack echoes through the burning corridor before he tosses the body aside like discarded trash.

Kenny’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. I barely stop myself from flinching.

“We can’t fight him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. “He’ll kill us.”

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering. He’s right. We’d be dead before we even got a shot off.

We have to get past him.

Carefully, we inch backward, slipping behind the remnants of a collapsed wall. The heat from the spreading fires presses against my skin, beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I force myself to breathe quietly, to wait.

The soldier doesn’t move.

For agonizing seconds, he just stands there, scanning the destruction, his shoulders rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Then, as if deciding there’s nothing left to kill, he turns and stalks down the hall, away from us.

We don’t hesitate.

The moment he disappears, we move. Fast and low, weaving through the wreckage, careful not to step on any loose debris that might give us away.

We barely make it past unnoticed.

And then, finally—we reach my father’s office.

My stomach drops.

The door hard wooden door is missing. Not blasted apart. Not riddled with bullet holes. Gone. Torn clean from its frame like it was made of paper.

Inside, a voice speaks.

“Where is the girl, Mr. Levine?”

I freeze.

The voice is deep, smooth, yet edged with something lethal. It’s the kind of voice that commands attention, that sends a shiver down my spine without even trying. The kind of voice that belongs to a man who knows his power—and wields it mercilessly.

Beside me, Kenny stiffens.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay still, to listen.

Inside, my father says nothing.

The silence stretches.

And then, a low chuckle.

The voice speaks again, softer this time.

“Don’t make this difficult.”

My fingers tighten around the rifle.

“Your men are dead,” the voice continues, smooth but laced with quiet menace. “No one is coming to save you. You have no choice.”

A ragged breath, then my father’s defiant snarl.

“Then kill me already! I don’t need to hear your damn speech!”

A low chuckle.

“You really think we didn’t see through your little game? That we wouldn’t find out?” The voice sharpens, every word dripping with venom. “You son of a bitch.”

Shit.

I flinch as a sudden, wet choking sound fills the air. My father—struggling. Gasping. His boots scrape against the floor, the sound frantic, desperate.

I don't like my father.

But I won’t let him die like this.

Before I can second-guess myself, I move.

I sprint into the doorway, rifle raised, breath coming fast.

The man stands with his back to me, his broad shoulders squared, one arm outstretched toward my father—who is pinned against the wall, feet dangling, fingers clawing at his throat.

I don’t think.

I pull the trigger.

The shot rings out.

But before the bullet can reach him—he turns.

And the bullet stops.

Mid-air.

Suspended.

My breath catches as I watch it hover there for a split second before it drops harmlessly to the floor with a soft clink.

Then—before I can react—my rifle jerks violently from my grip, yanked by an unseen force.

It whips through the air, slamming into the far wall and clattering to the ground.

I curse under my breath, my heart hammering.

He can control objects.

And now—I’m unarmed.

“And who is this girl?”

His voice is smooth, laced with curiosity, but there’s something unsettling beneath it—something cold and predatory.

I brace myself to fight, to run, to do something, but before I can move—my body betrays me.

A force wraps around me like invisible chains, yanking me off my feet. My stomach lurches as I’m lifted, weightless, helpless. My back slams against the wall, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

I gasp. My limbs strain, but I can’t move.

Across the room, my father is pinned the same way—his feet barely touching the ground, his face twisted in agony as he grits out, “W-where is Kenny, Astrid? Didn’t I tell Kenny to get you both out?”

His voice is tight, rasping, and—shockingly—worried.

I freeze.

I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before.

The man holding us captive tilts his head, watching me with amusement. Then he smirks, lips curling into something smug, something dangerous.

“Oh,” he murmurs, his voice like silk over steel. “I think we’ve found exactly what we’re looking for.”

Now that he’s closer, I can see him properly.

And he is—beautiful.

Golden-blond hair, tousled but perfect. A sculpted jaw, sharp cheekbones, and piercing eyes that gleam like molten gold under the dim light. Every feature is symmetrical, flawless, as if he was carved by some divine hand.

But beneath that breathtaking exterior—there’s something else.

Something dark.

Something monstrous.

“You don’t lay a finger on her!”

My father’s voice is raw, more furious than I’ve ever heard it.

I whip my gaze to him, my mind spinning.

What?

He cares?

He’s acting like I matter. Like he’s afraid for me.

Confusion floods my chest, tangling with the terror already gripping me.

The man’s golden eyes flick toward my father, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance.

“Shut up, old man.”

With a flick of his fingers, my father jerks violently against the wall, a choked sound escaping him. His face contorts in agony, his entire body trembling.

“No!” The word rips from my throat. “Stop it!”

Slowly, the man turns to me.

His smirk widens.

“And you…” His voice is almost playful now, like he’s enjoying this.

I feel it before I see it—the pull.

An invisible force drags me forward, like unseen hands clutching my arms, my legs, my waist. My boots scrape against the floor, but it’s useless.

I have no control.

No escape.

I’m being reeled in.

My breath turns shallow as I float toward him, my body weightless in his grip. My instincts scream at me to struggle, to fight back, but I can’t move.

Closer.

And closer.

Until—

His fingers wrap around my throat.

Not tight enough to cut off my air.

Just enough to remind me that he could.

That my life—my existence—is dangling in his hands.

I bite down a groan as a sharp ache spreads where his grip presses into my skin.

He leans in slightly, his golden eyes burning with amusement.

“Hi there.”

Then he chuckles—low, heartless, cruel.

"W-who are you?" I rasp, my voice barely escaping past his crushing grip.

His golden eyes gleam with something unreadable—curiosity, amusement, maybe even hunger. But before he can answer—

A deafening bang shatters the moment.

A searing force slams into my back, knocking the air from my lungs. But it’s not pain that registers—it’s the sudden loss of pressure around my throat. The unseen force binding me vanishes, and I collapse to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath.

The golden-eyed man staggers, his body jerking from the impact of the bullet. For a fleeting second, his expression shifts from smug confidence to stunned disbelief. His knees buckle, and he crashes to the floor beside me.

I whip my head around.

Kenny stands just beyond the threshold, rifle still raised, his face pale but set with grim determination.

"We have to go!" he shouts, urgency lacing every syllable.

I push myself up, my limbs still trembling, my mind reeling. The man—this thing—shouldn't have fallen so easily. Not after what I just witnessed. Not after stopping my bullet mid-air like it was nothing.

But he's not moving.

And then it hits me—

The moment he touched me, his power flickered. Just like with the fire-breathing man.

I don’t have time to process it. The building groans around us, fire licking at the walls, smoke thickening the air. Kenny grabs my arm, pulling me toward the exit.