Ruined By Your Blood

The rain in the capital always smelled like wet roads and wealth. Looking out the large windows of the Britton home, twenty-two-year-old Margot Britton fixed the silver buttons on her suit. Tonight was the annual Judiciary Ball. It was the one night when the city's top lawyers and politicians gathered together following strict rules of polite behavior. "He is late," Margot said softly, looking at the large clock in the room. Her father, Chief Justice Thomas Britton, was always on time. He lived by strict rules and a regular routine. The heavy wooden doors of the study opened. Thomas Britton walked in, soaking wet with his coat stuck to his body. Margot noticed his eyes more than the rain. The judge, who was usually calm and strong, looked scared. In his right hand, he held a small, locked data drive. "Dad?" Margot stepped closer, feeling worried. "What happened? The party starts in an hour. The Vaughan’s are already there." "The Vaughan’s won't be celebrating for much longer," Thomas whispered, his voice rough as he locked the study door. He put the drive on the desk carefully, like it was a dangerous bomb. "I found it, Margot. The Vault. Every bribe, every secret mission, and every life Arthur Vaughan destroyed to become Prime Minister. It is all here." Margot felt a sudden wave of fear. As a Britton, she knew the rules of their rivalry well. Never enter Vaughan land. Never be friends with them. Most importantly: never use your strongest weapon unless you are ready to destroy them completely. "Is it true?" Margot asked, walking near the desk. "I am absolutely sure," Thomas said, looking at his daughter with both great pride and deep fear. "This ends their family's power. I am not using the local courts. Tomorrow at sunrise, I am giving this directly to the International Regulatory Board. Arthur Vaughan is done." "Dad, if Arthur finds out you have this—" "He won't," Thomas said, cutting her off. He tried to smile to look calm, but he didn't look happy. "The rules protect us tonight. He thinks we are just going to a boring dinner. We will act normal, smile for the photographers, and tomorrow, the law will work. Get your coat, dear. We will drive together." Ten minutes later, the shiny black Britton car drove out of the estate gates through the heavy rain. Thomas was driving, and his hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. The secret drive felt heavy in his pocket. Margot sat next to him, looking out at the dark, foggy road, feeling sick with worry. "The rain is getting heavier," Margot said, watching the wipers fight the heavy rain. "Maybe we should take the old mountain road instead of the highway. It is more peaceful." "No, the highway is safer in this weather," Thomas replied, looking in the mirror. "We are twenty minutes away." They arrived at the high bridge that connects the living area to the bright city. Below them, there was a steep drop to a fast, flooded river. Suddenly, the lights behind them went away. Margot frowned and turned in her seat to look out the back window. From the deep darkness, a large, dark military truck appeared from where she could not see it. It was not slowing down. It was speeding up. "Dad—" Margot gasped. BOOM. The crash was very loud. The big truck hit the back of their car, making it slide sideways on the wet bridge. The metal made a loud noise as Thomas pulled hard on the steering wheel to try to stay in control. "Margot! Hold on!" Thomas shouted. Before Margot could scream, the truck hit them again. It was a fast, intentional side impact on the driver's side. The glass broke into many tiny pieces. The crash crushed the car's frame and trapped Thomas immediately. The car lost control and crashed through the bridge's concrete wall. For a scary moment, everything felt weightless, and there was only the sound of wind and the feeling of falling. Then a terrible crash happened. The car hit the rocky slope upside down right next to the loud river. It became quiet, except for the sound of a broken radiator and the heavy rain. Margot wiped the blood from her eyes. She could not see well, and her left shoulder hurt very badly. She was hanging upside down by her seatbelt. "Dad..." she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "Dad, wake up." She reached out with a shaking hand. Thomas Britton was leaning over the steering wheel. He was not breathing. The crash on the driver's side was total. "D-dad..." Even though it was hard, she tried to check on his father. She trembled, and her eyes widened when she saw he had stopped breathing. He was dead. 'N-no... It is not true...' she thought. 'He is fine, he... is... fine,' Through the broken car window, Margot heard loud footsteps on the gravel. Two people in clean, black military clothes came down the hill. They did not act like scared people trying to help. They moved with the calm, exact teamwork of experts. One man reached into the car and grabbed Thomas's jacket with his gloved hand. He pulled the secure data drive out of her father's pocket. Margot tried to move, but her legs were stuck under the broken dashboard. She made a small, painful sound. The second man in a mask heard her. He pointed a quiet gun through the broken window at Margot's chest. "Leave it," the first man said through his radio. "The fuel tank is broken. The battery spark is already starting a fire. They will both die in the flames. We have the drive. Move." The footsteps made noise as they walked up toward the bridge. Margot's vision began to narrow. The smell of gas was too strong, then she saw bright orange spreading under the upside-down car. 'F-fire,' she thought. The heat started to burn her skin. With a last burst of energy to stay alive, Margot unfastened her seatbelt. She fell hard against the roof of the overturned car. Using her hands to push through wet mud and broken glass, she dragged her injured body out of the broken window, pulling herself slowly away from the wreck. She got to the side of the fast, dark river right when the fuel tank caught fire. BOOM. As she lost consciousness, she could not stop seeing her father's burning car. 'Daddy...' The name 'Vaughan' kept repeating in her mind like a bad omen. Then, she felt nothing, and everything went black. - High above the river, standing on the broken bridge, two men in black combat clothes looked down at the big fire below. The fire shone on their dark face shields. One man touched his earpiece, the noise breaking through the sound of the heavy rain. "We have the item. The car exploded. Both targets are dead in the fire. The Britton family ends tonight." Far away, in the top floor room of the most expensive hotel in the city, a man stood by the large windows, watching the storm in the distance. Arthur Vaughan, the candidate for Prime Minister, slowly stirred a glass of expensive scotch. He looked very high-class—wearing a custom suit, with neat grey hair and eyes that looked as calm and dangerous as a hunter's. The phone on his dark wood desk shook once. He did not answer it. He only looked at the bright screen, which showed one secret text message: [Operation Gavel: Complete.] Arthur gave a small, mean smile. He locked his phone, picked up his glass, and turned toward the large wooden doors of his office. The doors swung open. Luther Vaughan, age twenty-one, walked in wearing a nice, dark suit. His bow tie was a bit loose, and his knuckles were covered in new white tape. This showed he had spent the last two hours punching a heavy bag in a gym instead of talking to rich people at the Judiciary Ball downstairs. "You missed the opening toasts, Luther," Arthur said in a calm voice that sounded fake and kind. "The reporters were asking for my son. The future of the Vaughan family." Luther laughed coldly and poured a glass of water. "I told you, Dad. I won't be a tool for your campaign. Tomorrow, I have to look at court files for free legal work. That is real law, not the fake show you run downstairs." Arthur kept smiling, but his eyes became cold and hard. He walked over and put a heavy, condescending hand on Luther's shoulder. "You like to break the rules, son. It is fun for now," Arthur said quietly. "But remember: the world is dangerous. Large kingdoms can fail overnight. People who do not change, or who think the law will protect them from how power really works... will fail and suffer." Luther frowned and pulled away from his father's hand. He suddenly felt very cold in the room for no reason. He looked at his father and felt that the man was acting dark and proud. "What do you mean by that?" "It means," Arthur said, drinking his scotch slowly while looking at the burning city, "that a big problem has passed. Go back to your gym, Luther. Practice your fighting. You may need it sooner than you think." Luther looked at his father, feeling very nervous and worried. He did not know what his father had just done. He did not know about the burning car on the bridge or the Chief Justice who died in the river. He did not know that far away, on a sharp muddy riverbank, a girl was barely alive. She was digging her fingers into the ground and taking her first breath as Sienna Nilsson.