Governing the She-Devil

10 Not a Saint

I like you a lot.

Saint's eyes flickered against the darkness of the night. After a few seconds, she turned on her side for the nth time that night. She looked around the barracks and found everyone fast asleep in their camp beds.

Marcus's words bothered her deeply. He had this mischievous grin that would never leave her head. "Does he really like me?" she gasped as silently as possible.

She looked at her watch and read the time—2:23. The assembly would start at five in the morning. She groaned helplessly.

Saint carefully looked around before peeling herself away from the bed. She charged towards the tent opening and found two soldiers guarding the barracks. She walked towards them and saluted, "Permission to go to the comfort room, sir."

The rude-looking soldier eyed her head to toe before saying, "Pee on your post."

She shoved a tampon in front of him. He was disgusted. "I have my period," she flatly said before proceeding without waiting for the soldier's response. She briskly walked toward the makeshift toilet.

Inside was a porta-potty and a faucet with running water. It was covered by a tarpaulin from the outside world. It did not have a roof even. "I can't smoke here." The smoke coming from her cigarette would be visible from the opening.

Saint climbed out through the roof opening and sneaked into the woods. Once when she was deep in the woods, she climbed a tree. She could see the camp from her point of view. She camouflaged herself carefully.

Laying her back against the tree for support, she unrolled the tampon containing a cigarette stick. She lit it and took a hit. She took the habit right after her mother's death. Her eyes closed shut at the memory.

Saint was about to take another hit from her cigarette when she heard a sharp whooshing sound ring right before her ear. The sound was followed by a loud thud. A body fell from the tree. It was one of the camp's marksmen.

Silent bullet shots filled the air. She traced the origin of the attack and found a few men hiding behind the trees. Carefully calculating her steps, she jumped to a nearby tree to get a good bird's eye view and counted the trespassers.

The attack somewhat reached the seer and sounded the alarm. However, the enemy refused to directly attack the base camp. They were stealthy. Their abilities could be defined as sly and cunning like a fox.

Without making any sound, Saint ran to the nearest enemy and snapped his neck. She pushed her lit cigarette against his skin and threw it on the side. She fumbled for a weapon and found a couple of jambiyas—a curved dagger. She expertly slipped both daggers around her fingers before running to her next victim.

At the camp, recruits were given menial tasks while the soldiers in positions prepared for a tactical charge. They did not expect someone to attack their base camp. However, the people attacking them seemed well-prepared. It was not like all the other attacks they recorded in their books.

"What do you need from the camp?" she gnashed her teeth as she put the dagger against the enemy's throat.

The man attempted to turn his face to attack, but Saint let go of his neck and glided to the other side like a breeze. Her small stature floated like air, not a crisp pressure on the leaves could be heard from her steps.

When the man did not see anyone, he turned again. No one was still there. "Where are you?" he shouted, alerting his other companions that there had been an attack on him.

Saint showed herself and smiled devilishly. "What do you need from the camp?" she repeated.

The man scoffed upon seeing the face of the one who threatened him. The bright full moon lit Saint's face. Her dark wavy hair flowed with the cold breeze. Her looks resembled a fragile angel. A beauty to behold. "I'll let you off, little miss. Go and run to your camp for shelter," the man dismissed her presence, thinking that she was not someone to be afraid of.

"You're not answering my question." In one swoop, Saint broke both his legs and shot both his arms. The man groaned in pain. His voice echoed through the forest, scaring the birds out of their nests. It was a clean shot, not even a spatter of blood touched her. "I'm keeping you alive."

At that moment, it was too late for Saint to hide in the darkness. The man's groaning alerted his companions and was now circling her.

They kept coming. Their stance was ready to kill. Saint did not waste any time and attacked first. She ran to the man on her south side and smoothly sliced his throat. Through her peripheral vision, she saw someone aiming a gun at her. Instantly, she kicked his hand holding a gun. She caught the gun midway and shot the man in his head.

Saint tried her best not to get blood on her clothes. But then a man snuck a punch to her stomach. It was a full-blown attack against her. She dropped to her knees.

"Don't kill her." She heard someone say. A gun was pointing at her head. "Let's take her to our camp."

But before they made a move on her, she put one foot down for support and held the dagger tightly. She turned gracefully like a pinwheel as she held her hand forward. Her spin came to a halt, and she stood straight on both her feet. The bodies of the men surrounding her fell to the ground.

Saint just sliced all their throats in one spin. She made a face upon realizing that her cuts were terrible and traumatized the men's carotid artery, resulting in their blood spattering onto her. "I need to work on my cutting skills," she mumbled.

Without looking, she flew both the daggers in the air. It was followed by a soft thud as two men who were running scared fell to the ground. The daggers stabbed their skulls.

She looked at the man cramped against the tree. He was the only one left alive. He shivered at her presence. Her body was drenched in blood as her skin glowed against the moonshine.

She smiled at the man and left.