Parallel Crossroads

Chapter Four

(Iris's POV)

    Click

    An empty barrel. The bullets, which Dad had me check dozens of times weren't there? I glanced down and instantly noticed why. In the soldiers hand was my clip of bullets, centimeters away from their rightful place. 

    "H-how," I stammered, backing away. 

    She smirked at me and followed me back, "You're half-frozen, distracted, it was easy." 

    "I'm warning you-" 

    "Shut up already," the authority in her voice sent shivers down my spine, the hairs on my arms raising in primal alertness. 

    Her hand wrapped around my wrist, (the one holding the gun) and disarmed me faster than I could've anticipated. I watched as she darted around my body and wrapped an arm around my neck, pressing her personal gun against the small of my back. 

    "Too slow Johnson," she murmured in my ear, "That's a shame, I was hoping for more of a fight from the heir to the Johnson Clan." 

    "My Father will have no problem trading for me, but if you even scratch me," something shiny and sharp whisked below my eye, followed by a harsh sting. I yelped, instinctively backing into her. A hot droplet of liquid rolled down my cheek. 

    In shock, I didn't dare glance back to see what she used to cut me. Whatever it was though, it was sharper than the blades we used in training. 

    "I scratched you," she said, teasing me, "Where's your Father?" 

    "He'll come for me," I assured her. Although, a part of me wonders if it was really her I was assuring. "And when he does, Cortes will have no choice but to let me go." 

    "Don't underestimate the power of Lord Cortes," the gun pressed deeper into my back, urging me forward, "As of now, you're merely a prisoner of the Cortes Clan. If you speak we'll gag you and if you run we'll chain you-no special privileges." 

    "Do what you want," I hissed, "But trust me, my Father will either come to trade for me, or he will come with enough manpower to completely wipe out your clan." 

    I didn't get a response. 

    We walked through the bushes towards the upper part of the mountain. My feet were stinging by the time we had reached the 'first checkpoint'. I was slightly amazed by the fact that the soldiers managed to make the walk in their uniforms. 

    Sweat plastered my much thinner uniform against my body; movement was almost impossible. The girl didn't seem to notice or care, keeping her gun on my back and eyes straight ahead. 

    "Prepare a cell for the Johnson," she suddenly said, her men leaping into action. I couldn't see the Cortes fortress at first, but eventually, it revealed itself as a massive stone wall behind a desert of rubbish heaps. Fear? Anxiousness? All kinds of emotions flowed through me as I was escorted past mounds of car parts and used needles. 

    The stone wall got larger, towering well over me and the rest of the party. I began to notice other things about the group as well, how they moved as if they were going to shoot each other at any moment. How they warily glanced at their leader, the girl, eyes filled with...pity? 

    And the girl. Her hair was dark, deceptively dark. Nothing like the night sky or an unlucky cat, no. It was like a lightless void of a color. 

    She limped on her left. By the looks of it, she had untreated wounds all over her body, all of them covered by the gear which was probably causing all of them to overheat. 

    "H-hey?" I felt her stiffen in annoyance, "What's your name?" 

    "...None of your business," she grumbled hastily as we made our way to the gate. The security was tight, that was obvious. 

    "Please, if you're gonna kill me I at least want to know the name of the person walking me to my doom," I exaggerated, heaving a sigh and being as sarcastic as possible. 

    She caught it immediately and the smirk reappeared on her face. Never a smile, only the twitch of her upper lip. "My name's Eden," she said, "And what's yours, daughter of Johnson?" 

    "Iris," I said, "You can call me Iris." 

    "Well, Iris," we arrived at the gate-the guards saluting and letting us in without a single moment hesitation, "Are you an i***t?" 

    The others disappeared. Scattered on the wind, among crowds of soldiers and recruits. 

    Seriously. I looked around as slowly as I could manage, taking in every morsel of information. 

    Children about nine years old battled with wooden sticks and toy guns. Simulations of airstrikes and raids played for the teenage population, some of the innocent infants wearing military coats with their name and dog tags. 

    "W-what is this?" the words came out before I could stop them. 

    "This is the Cortes Clan," Eden replied smoothly, "Unlike you Johnsons, we train from the moment we can walk. Our lives revolve around survival since we're trapped here on the wild side of the Whitewater River, so only the strongest get to live here."

    "What happens to the weak?" 

    "...They're taught to be strong," I ran out of time. 

    We made our way through an old, sad-looking courtyard. Nothing but dry grass and old shrubs seemed to grow, the fountains which could've been beautiful had moss growing all over them and mushrooms sprouting from who knows where. 

    "A word of warning," we stopped in front of a wood door with a large C carved on it. Eden had gone stiff, each movement became more and more strained until we were just outside. 

    "Yea?" I wondered, eyes glued in front of me. 

    "Lord Cortes isn't like Johnson," she continued, "He's harsher, not as merciful. It's best you don't threaten him as you did me." 

    "Fine," taking the little advice I could, I let her open the door and push me inside. 

    "Lord Cortes..." there was a man at a desk, his hair in his fists, and a look of rage on his face. 

    He slowly looked up, eyes staring at Eden with intense hatred. The pure anger he radiated, the power he had over his soldiers was terrifying. Something about him had every fiber of my being both screaming at me to run and frozen in fear. 

    "Why is she not dead?" the man growled. The sound was hardly a voice, more like a mix between a growl and a snarl, "Why is it that when presented with the opportunity to please me, you throw it away and choose exactly what angers me?" 

    "If I killed her, the Johnson clan would surely kill me and the rest of my team before we made it back," she answered shakily. She was as scared as I was, the only difference was her emotion was buried under a thick sheet of discipline. 

    "Then why has my disgrace of a daughter, come back alive?" 

    I froze, slowly turning to look at my captor. A sick, twisted realization dawned on me as well as a mortifying thought. 

    I was in the presence of the head and heir of the Cortes clan. It was the heir who captured me, without even wasting a bullet or breathing a single labored breath. 

    What would happen to the Johnson Clan if they decided to attack? The m******e would be my fault.