In the Company of Shadows

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Based on an original story and alternate future by Sonny & Ais called In the Company of Shadows.

The story contains..

Slash (M/M), het (M/F) and graphic language, violence and sexual situations. Not intended for anyone under 18!


Book One: Evenfall See Evenfall chapter list.

Book Two: Afterimage
See Afterimage chapter list.

Interludes list

Book Three: Fade
See Fade chapter list.


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Evenfall Chapter Nine

The hallways were long and dark, and every noise echoed tellingly around Boyd. He had to be especially careful when he moved, because even the slide of fabric could give away his location. Jeffrey had decoded the information on the location of the headquarters of 53, and it had come time for Boyd and Sin to follow up.

The place was located twenty miles outside of Carson. It was ideal for escape into the thick forest near the Wastelands following 53's repeated attacks on the city. The large, abandoned underground bunker 53 had chosen for their headquarters had steel so thick that signals could not penetrate it. Not cell phones and not GPS. Leaving Boyd completely cut off once inside.

It took him awhile to discover where Warren Andrews was hidden in the maze of hallways and floors. He managed to narrow it down to a corridor but the electricity was faulty this far underground and the lights were flickering into darkness more often than they were on.

It was the second assignment he'd had since Ryan had given him the flash drive and the second time that Sin was actually participating to an extent. While he limited his cooperation to playing lookout or offering opinions on tactical aspects, it was more than it had ever been in the past. It was a big difference to actually work together for once, and so far everything was going well. Sin was watching the outside of the bunker to see the movement of the hostiles as well as generally checking out the area.

Boyd had slipped into the base itself to observe the set up from the inside. He wanted to get an idea of what may have changed from the blueprints and to see if there were any specific security vulnerabilities he could take advantage of the next day when they would actually carry out the mission.

Boyd spent nearly an hour inside the base, slipping from one shadow to the next in silence. He was very careful to tread so his boots made no noise. Unit 16 had provided him with clothing that allowed him to blend in with the hostiles and had replicated their signature red armband. He wore the armband over a dark green long-sleeved shirt and black fatigues, and his hair was pulled back in a low ponytail at the base of his neck.

The temperature was rising as summer rolled in, but it wasn't unbearable. Still, he could feel the heat trapped by his hair against his skin. The shirt he wore would have felt stifling if it had been just 5 degrees hotter. The heat was made worse in the bunker where there was little air flow, although the ground helped mediate some of the intensity.

He heard footsteps treading heavily toward him, the scuffing of soles against concrete. It echoed so much that Boyd could hardly tell which direction it came from. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small hand held radio that he'd found in one of the supply rooms. From what he saw, the men guarding the perimeter were not the only ones to carry them.

Two men turned a corner and walked toward Boyd down the hallway. Boyd fumbled with the radio, turning it around and trying to click it on and off as if he had no idea how to work it. The men were talking quietly about something and the words bounced around them. It was nothing of consequence, but he kept it all in his mind anyway.

As they came up beside him Boyd looked up, visibly startled, and stood to attention. The radio was gripped in one hand and hit his thigh, causing him to seemingly accidentally press a button. It blared static and he dropped it on the floor with a resounding clatter.

"Sorry," he said, frazzled. He knelt down and fumbled with the radio.

In his peripheral vision, Boyd saw one man roll his eyes. They walked past without incident. Boyd made sure to make noise fumbling and cursing softly with the radio until their footsteps were long gone. When he no longer heard them he flipped the radio off and left the facility without anyone else seeing him.

Boyd made it out to their agreed upon meeting place and leaned against a tree waiting for Sin to arrive. He examined the radio so he had an excuse in case someone walked by and wondered what he was doing.

It didn't take long before Sin appeared, as silent and undetectable as always.

"Two exits other than the one you used," he said flatly. "One to the North and another to the East. They are guarded by two hostiles at all times. Beginning at approximately 0900 hours they switch shifts every eight hours. It is done efficiently with no opening, however at half past the hour, five hours into each shift there is a thirty minute meal break for each man. When one leaves, the entrance is guarded by one guard for this time and there are brief, three minute openings at intervals as he paces back and forth to observe either side of the forest." He looked at Boyd. "When you sneak in tomorrow, that would be the best opportunity."

Boyd nodded. He noted the term 'you' and was unsurprised to realize Sin had no intention of accompanying him on the mission the next day. Pushing himself away from the tree, he put the radio in his back pocket and walked away from the base.

"I believe I've located the leader. There's a corridor on the main floor in the Southwest corner that seems likely to hold his rooms. It's in the best position to be defended. The lighting is faulty in places and every sound echoes considerably, but there are few checkpoints once one is inside the building. They put too much faith in the lack of entrances and the heavy guarding."

Sin nodded sharply and looked away. He looked more tense as the time for the assault on the bunker came closer. "If you are able to speak with Andrews, they will most likely immediately disarm you."

"I have some hidden weapons and if nothing else I can attempt to steal some from them. Still," he continued, looking at Sin with faintly narrowed eyes and a serious cast to his features. "Do you really not plan to come?"

This was a mission that would be too difficult for him to undertake entirely on his own. He would be going into a base filled with hostiles. Then, without backup, he would be expected to negotiate with the leader or, barring that, kill him. His comm unit didn't even seem to work properly in the bunker. There were so many variables involved that it was practically a suicide mission to go in alone.

Pale green eyes met his for a long moment but Sin kept his face perfectly unreadable. In the time they'd known each other Boyd had come to realize that Sin was a master of masking his thoughts and that had not changed over time. His body language, however, was a different story. He fidgeted when he was agitated about something and when he ran a hand through his black and red hair, it was an indication of how much the question aggravated him.

His full lips parted as if to reply but then his eyes narrowed into slits and he abruptly turned away. There was a beat of silence and then all he said was, "Let's get back."

Boyd watched Sin's back and didn't immediately move. It had been obvious since the beginning of their partnership that one day a mission would occur that they both had to be on or it would end in disaster. Having been inside the bunker for reconnaissance, Boyd knew that if anything went wrong, even a small part of the mission, he would have no chance of egress.

Even if he did manage to negotiate successfully with Andrews, there was no guarantee that the dissenters would not determine it to be the last sign of weakness on Andrews' part and simply kill Boyd. He would be outnumbered, likely have his weapons taken from him, and almost positively have no way of contacting Sin to ask for backup.

If Sin didn't come, the likelihood of Boyd dying tomorrow was very high; nearly to the point of certainty. He couldn't tell from Sin's response whether he would help in the end or not but he wasn't particularly hopeful. It seemed the discrepancies and tension in their partnership had finally come to a head. Despite everything Boyd had done to make it clear that he had no biases against the other man, nothing had really changed.

As the gravity of the situation grew clearer to him, he wondered what his mother would say when she found out the inevitable had happened: that her son had finally died. Would it bother her? Or would she simply dismiss the messenger and return to her work?

Would anyone remember that he'd ever lived?

Boyd followed Sin silently as they headed back to the cabin they were using as a temporary base, and wondered if this would be his last night to live.

Boyd didn't know how long he'd been asleep before he heard it, or even whether it was a dream. He only knew that an unfamiliar sound caught his attention and that he felt mildly disoriented.

Opening his eyes, he listened closely with his eyebrows furrowed down slightly. When he realized what direction it was coming from, he rolled his head discreetly and peered through the darkness. It took him a few moments to discern what it was.

When he realized it came from Sin's bed, the surprise jerked him awake.

Sin was curled in a tight ball on his bed as though he were trying to protect himself. Despite that, the muscles in his face and body were twitching oddly. A soft, incoherent exclamation fell from his lips and he unwound himself from the ball abruptly.

He extended one of his arms away from his body and one hand dangled off the bed, the fingers twitching and tensing. He muttered in Chinese softly in his sleep, his voice low and strained.

Boyd shifted and pushed himself up on one elbow, his eyebrows drawn down as he stared. Sin so often seemed silent and still, like a statue, that it was disturbing to see him so obviously distressed.

"Sin?" he asked loudly, hoping to wake him.

The word did nothing. In fact, whatever nightmare Sin was having only seemed to progress in intensity. His head turned back and forth, black hair splaying across the white sheets of the bed. His face turned towards Boyd and moonlight shone across it, showing a vulnerable, naked expression that bordered on fear.

Boyd sat up, looking at him with actual concern. He didn't know what to do; it was almost alarming to see Sin in this state. The man was usually so controlled that Boyd never knew how many layers there were before his true opinion would show.

But in this case, with Sin asleep, Boyd knew everything he was seeing was the truth. The fact that Sin sounded terrified made Boyd get out of bed. Even if Sin hadn't been making noise, Boyd wouldn't have been able to go back to sleep in good conscience.

Boyd threw his legs over the side of the bed and padded across the room toward Sin's bed. He'd seen the way Sin hadn't seemed to react much to Lydia when reliving a nightmare but he'd been drugged at the time.

"Sin, wake up," Boyd said loudly, lightly touching the hand dangling in front of him.

The reaction was immediate.

Sin's eyes snapped open; wild and filled with madness. Seemingly without transition, Boyd was suddenly thrown across the room. He smashed into a table so hard that it flew a few inches off the floor, crashed against the wall and fell over.

He crashed into the floor; his vision clouded and he couldn't properly breathe. Everything that was on the table clattered around him in a spray that peppered his body. His bag fell down next to him, spilling its contents.

Before he could even understand what had happened, violently strong hands were on him. He was yanked back and flipped ruthlessly, slammed onto his back. His head cracked against the hardwood floor and pain shot down his neck.

Boyd's eyes fell shut of their own accord. When they snapped open a breath later, Sin's face was less than an inch from his own, and there was no recognition in it at all.

Fear and surprise overcame Boyd. His heart stumbled. Green eyes blazed at him with the same uncontrollable fury he had seen in the surveillance videos. As the words 'automatic kill mode' moved through his mind, he realized that Sin's hands were now wrapped around his neck.

"Sin," Boyd yelled as Sin's fingers started to tighten. "Hsin! Stop!"

The response was unexpected. The heart-pounding moment, feeling like it had been on fast-forward, suddenly stilled. Tension made the shadows in the room zero in on them while Sin faltered. Long, powerful fingers loosened slightly on Boyd's neck. That shadowed face stared down uncomprehendingly.

Boyd didn't know if it was the use of Sin's real name or the plea that had got his attention but either way he took advantage of the moment.

"Stop," he said urgently. His body was so tense it felt locked in place. He kept himself perfectly still, as nonthreatening as if he were dealing with a wild animal. "I won't do anything-- Just stop, Hsin. Don't hurt me."

Pale green eyes met honey brown and Sin's brow furrowed as he absorbed the words. His hands remained poised on Boyd, ready to snap his neck in an instant. A long, tense moment passed in which the only movement was their chests rising and falling with their breath. Then sluggish awareness seemed to creep back into Sin's eyes. The manic wildness slowly drifted out of his face and was replaced by an expression of confusion.

At first it seemed that Sin wasn't even aware of what had happened but then his eyes widened and he scrambled backwards, lowering into a crouch. Panting and tense, his body was coiled tighter than a spring about to snap. He still didn't look entirely back to himself and his green eyes flitted around quickly. He didn't speak but appeared to be bracing himself, waiting for something to happen.

Tense and unwilling to move, Boyd came to two conclusions in quick succession. One, he still had no idea whether or not Sin would attack him. Two, he was almost positive that Sin had only stopped when he had made it known that he was not a threat. There was only one thing he had that could possibly be considered a threat, and it was what Sin seemed to be waiting for.

Moving as fast as he could so his motions were not misunderstood, Boyd pulled the small remote out of his nearby bag. Sin tensed, eyes narrowing but his face turned into a study of complete shock when Boyd threw the remote at him. Sin caught it in midair, the action almost an unconscious reflex as their eyes stayed locked.

"Take it," Boyd panted roughly. "I don't want it-- I'm not here to hurt you."

For a long moment the only sound in the room was both of their labored breathing as they stared at each other. For the first time since they'd met, Sin's expression was completely open and his thoughts were clear.

Emotions Boyd hadn't even been positive Sin ever felt were aimed at him. Shock, guilt, and fear dominated his slightly widened green eyes and his parted lips. The moment stretched as they stared at each other, the chaos of the last few minutes adding to the panting of their breath and eyes locked on each other. But it didn't last long and everything snapped back to normal speed.

Sin abruptly ran out of the cabin. He was there and gone so fast that it seemed like he'd disappeared within the blink of an eye.

Boyd stared blankly at the door, his mind still struggling to fully understand what had just happened. At length he pushed himself up, grimacing at the bruises that pulled at his body. Sin had taken the remote with him and Boyd was glad to be rid of the thing.

A faint sense of shock remained in his system for several minutes even as he went into autopilot. When he shut the door, he realized his arm ached. When he looked down at it he could see red marks. Sin must have grabbed him by the arm when he threw him across the room.

When he walked back to the other side of the room and righted the table, he felt his back pulling painfully. And when he put his belongings back in his bag and put it on the table, he could feel all the aches and pains in his torso. A shock of pain sped down his neck if his head was tilted just so.

He didn't know why he straightened up part of the room, other than because the adrenaline was still moving through him and he felt jittery and wired. He kept half expecting Sin to burst back into the cabin and finish what he'd started, and half expecting to never see Sin again.

In the end, he moved around doing meaningless, mundane tasks until he finally laid down. His body was as creaky and achy as his bed, and when he closed his eyes he was hyper-aware of everything in the room.

Sleep was a long time coming.

Boyd didn't change the schedule for the following morning even though Sin never reappeared. The one thing that was clear was that Boyd was alone for this mission. And with that, he felt a grim sense of acceptance.

Every action he took seemed like it would be the last time it occurred. The last time he pulled his hair back in a ponytail. The last time he straightened the clothing he'd been given by Unit 16. The last time he walked out of the cabin.

The last time he headed to a mission.

Boyd infiltrated the base easily; Sin's observations of the guards the day before were invaluable. He was able to slip into the base in the three minute period and avoid nearly everyone.

He walked with a purpose but was casual about it so that the few people he saw in passing barely even glanced at him. He was especially careful to do everything perfectly. It was imperative they catch Andrews before he defected to Janus; he was their strongest chance for an ally right now, and they needed it.

It barely took ten minutes to make it to the Southwest corner, and another five to wind through the hallways to the specific area he believed Andrews would be. The radio remained tucked in his back pocket, flipped on with the volume set very low so from afar it would not sound as though he were masking his presence. Many of the hostiles, Boyd had noticed, did the same thing, and it was one more way to blend in.  

He noted as he strode down the hall that many of the doors were closed. A few remained open, however, and he glanced in each as he passed. He found that most were empty.

Unfortunately, the one room he needed to be empty wasn't. Halfway down the corridor he planned to use for egress, an open door revealed four men crowded around a table playing cards. One of them yelled loudly when his hand was beat and the other three burst into raucous laughter.

They would be difficult to get past if he made any noise at all when dealing with Andrews.

As he moved further into the base he listened intently to his radio. There was no alarm about an intruder; nothing amiss at all.

As he passed down another hallway, he came upon the area he'd earlier determined was most likely to house Warren Andrews. He paused at an intersection. He didn't want to give away his position so he finally shut the radio off completely. He looked around, ensuring that no one was in view. When he was positive he was alone, he continued forward as silently as possible.

A door was closed toward the end of the hall but he could hear voices emanating from it. He slowed and listened closely, standing to the side of the door. He couldn't understand what they were saying and the voices fell silent seemingly naturally.

He couldn't hear anyone coming and didn't feel anyone's presence.

Even so, simply walking in with complete confidence would be foolhardy. So far, the mission was going more smoothly than any of the previous ones, and yet this should be the most difficult.

That was dangerous, in Boyd's mind, but he couldn't deny the fact that nothing was exactly amiss. It was bothering him, actually; he remained on high alert, but there was nothing to be alert about.

Suddenly there was a loud noise and something was flying around him. Boyd didn't know what it was at first, but he threw himself to the side and tried to scramble away. His legs must not have been under him properly because he slipped and hit the floor with his shoulder. His bruised torso ached at the movement but he scrambled up and got out of the hallway.

He crouched just inside a nearby open door while making relatively little noise. He felt awkward and unbalanced but was too focused on the hallway to determine why. He peered out as best he could from the shadows and was able to just make out wooden shrapnel scattered across the floor and a huge hole in the door. He realized belatedly that they had shot through the door with a shotgun, and what he'd seen had been the shrapnel from the door.

"Did you get him?" a voice asked quietly.

Boyd saw a man with dark skin appear in the hole, looking around. "Well," he said, looking down at the floor, "there's some blood."

Boyd looked down in surprise, and noticed one black-clad thigh was shining wetly in the dim light. His eyes narrowed and he pressed down on it immediately, checking for the extent of the injury.

Judging by the fact that he could still place his weight on it, most of it was probably superficial. Still, it had cut deep enough for him to bleed which meant it could compromise him in some fashion. And he could have left a trail of blood straight to his location.

He looked around but there was no other exit in the room. He'd been lucky to find cover at all so quickly. And he couldn't shut the door without bringing attention to himself.

The door opened down the way and the dark-complexioned man stepped calmly into the hallway. His hair was in cornrows and held back by a white band in back. Boyd recognized him as Daniel Jones, the second in command of 53.

Andrews appeared beside him. He looked exactly as he had in the stat file: smooth, dark caramel skin and black hair in loose waves. He was holding what appeared to be a hunting knife. "Don't let him get away."

Boyd knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. He was barely a few feet away and this was the first place they would look. His face set grimly and he let out a low, silent breath. He thought quickly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out what he needed. Jones had a gun but Andrews only had a knife.

He waited just long enough for the footsteps he heard to draw up alongside the room he hid in. Before Jones could look around the corner, Boyd threw a small round pellet out into the hallway and looked away with his eyes squeezed shut.

He heard Jones say, "What--?" before the pellet hit the ground and released a bright flash of light that would briefly blind anyone watching.

Jones let out a startled yell and Boyd used the distraction to scramble into the hallway. Momentarily blinded, Jones didn't even notice Boyd in front of him before Boyd slammed into the other man. A shot went off, embedding into the ceiling and the gun clattered to the floor. Boyd ran, swiping the gun from the floor as he passed so no one would use it against him.

In the same movement he pulled his tonfa out and slammed it against Andrews' machete. The knife slipped from Andrews' fingers and hit the floor. Boyd was there within a second, stopping just behind and to the side of Andrews as he held the cocked gun against his head. He had to put the tonfa away so he would have a free hand to deal with Andrews.

"Believe it or not," Boyd said calmly, trying to control his breath as he caught it. "I'm here to negotiate. Call off any reinforcements you have coming and this doesn't have to get any messier."

Andrews held his hands up, staying very still. He said nothing at first, and Boyd pushed the gun against his head. He grabbed Andrews' arm and started to drag him back toward the room with the broken door.

"Call them off," he repeated as an order.

There was another hesitation as Andrews and Jones locked eyes.

"You won't get out of here alive," Jones said, dark eyes narrowed into slits.

"Let me worry about that," Boyd said unconcernedly. "You call everyone off." He shoved the gun harder against Andrews' temple, his expression deadly serious. "I'd rather not kill him but I will."

There was another beat of silence and it was clear that Andrews didn't want to give the order.

"Stop stalling," Boyd warned dangerously but it was too late.

He could hear footsteps echoing in the distance so he yanked Andrews back with him. He didn't have a good plan but he did know of a possible escape route through the back hallway. If nothing else, he could run with Andrews and hide in a room somewhere.

He could try to run from the bunker with Andrews but that would be nearly impossible, especially with the place on high alert. The only choice he really had was to flee with the man and try to convince him to call off the search.

Jones watched Boyd sharply as he pulled Andrews back with him. Boyd knew he had to do something about the man. If he didn't, Jones could just follow them and tell the reinforcements exactly where to look.

Boyd turned the gun on Jones, planning to shoot him quickly. That quick shift was all Andrews needed.

Andrews twisted and grabbed Boyd's arm, slamming it away from him. Boyd started to jerk away, reaching for his tonfa, but Andrews was fast and efficient. Within the space of a second, Andrews had forced Boyd's hand at an angle where it was impossible to hold anything. The gun slipped from Boyd's suddenly nerveless fingers.

So fast that it practically happened at the same time, Jones was on Boyd, using Andrews as a distraction while he snatched the tonfa from Boyd's waist. Boyd jerked his hand from Andrews' hold and turned his attention on Jones. But the two of them were not at the head of a rebel faction for no reason; they'd obviously fought together in the past.

They moved in tandem so quickly that Boyd didn't have a chance. He was slammed back and hit the floor hard, trying to scramble back to a stand. Jones violently yanked Boyd back to his feet and pulled his arms behind him.

Within seconds, Boyd went from being in control to being the one with the gun aimed at him. Jones held him securely from behind, nearly cutting off Boyd's blood circulation. Before Boyd could take any other course of action, the hallway filled with hostiles and he found himself surrounded.

"Search him," Andrews ordered one of the hostiles who'd arrived as reinforcement.

Although Boyd jerked and twisted and attempted to kick the man away, his weapons were ultimately taken from him. The man stepped back with them in hand, getting well out of Boyd's reach and back into the protection of the circle of men with guns.

Seeing that Boyd was disarmed and surrounded, Jones let go of Boyd and stepped back over to Andrews' side. Boyd saw Jones sliding the gun back into his holster.

Boyd straightened, his eyes narrowing as he took them in. He didn't see an opening and there were enough of them that there was no chance of escape. The hostiles were armed and Andrews' aim didn't waver from his head. They'd been thorough enough to find all his weapons and there was no way he could fight all of the men at once.

After looking around and seeing no immediate solution, Boyd's even gaze slid back to meet Andrews' eyes. He kept his arms loose at his sides and paid attention to his surroundings in case an opportunity to escape or flip the situation would present itself.

"I take it you're the one who's been causing so much trouble lately," Andrews said conversationally, casting his eyes around at his men before finally resting them on Boyd.

"Trouble?" Boyd echoed, as if he had no idea what he was talking about. "Have you been having problems?"

Jones turned slightly away and said something into his radio but it was too low to be heard over the din of noise that had been created by their reinforcements. Andrews didn't look over, keeping his eyes locked with Boyd. He didn't seem particularly impressed by Boyd's denial.

"A skinny blond boy attempted to infiltrate two of our locations recently. It seems you finally found what you were looking for but still fail at not getting yourself captured."

Boyd shrugged unconcernedly and didn't bother to reply.

Andrews looked at his second in command expectantly.

"Nothing," was all Jones said.

This was apparently acceptable because the 53 leader nodded. "So, who are you? One of Jason's new recruits? I wouldn't be surprised-- he doesn't give a shit about his people enough to stop them from going on a suicidal quest for nothing significant. I don't know what you aimed to accomplish here but you'll save yourself a lot of trouble by telling me now."

Boyd took in his surroundings again, his impassive golden brown gaze moving along the hostiles. He looked for any change, any break in the circle surrounding him.

There was nothing. They had him thoroughly surrounded and the bunker's few and highly guarded entrances gave him no delusions of escape.

He was going to die here.

He only wondered whether they would do it right here or whether they would bring him somewhere else first. He wondered how painful it would be and how long Sin would wait around before he left. Assuming he hadn't headed back to Lexington already.

Boyd met Andrews' eyes evenly. "I have nothing to say so you'll save yourself trouble by not bothering to ask."

"Foolish move but as you wish."

As soon as the words left Andrews' mouth, one of the men approached Boyd and slammed the butt of a gun violently into his temple.

Boyd was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Time passed, or at least he thought it might have. Nothing made sense. Pounding that accompanied his heartbeat only belatedly translated as a headache. It took him several seconds to realize his eyes were open again.

He saw feet around him; moving and running and jerking back and forth.

There was a flurry of motion that Boyd could not follow through his hazy hold on reality. The thumping of a man's knees against the floor caused him to slide half-lidded eyes over.

A young man with bright blond hair was staring ahead with a surprised look. He stayed there and, in a moment that seemed to stretch, he tilted to the side and fell to the floor. Boyd stared at him with darkening vision, realizing in a distant sort of surprise that the man was dead.

Sounds echoed around him, people yelling and guns going off. Stray bullets flew past him and Boyd struggled to keep his eyes open. He didn't even know his eyes had shut until he realized it was black all around him when he heard frantic shouts.

"Shoot him!"

"Jesus Christ, kill him!"

"What the fuck--"

He struggled to open his eyes again and he saw a flash of red; Sin stood there in a moment suspended in time, his back to Boyd while he stood calmly amidst the chaos. Boyd could barely see someone aiming a gun at Sin.

Boyd's eyes fell shut again. Even the sounds were getting muffled, as if wrapped in cotton and covered in a blanket, but he tried to claw his way back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, barely enough to see just through his lashes, and Sin was nowhere to be found. The place was empty and someone was standing over him with a gun aimed at him. He closed his eyes again, then opened them and the person was gone.

Confusing flashes surrounded him and he didn't even know if he was awake or asleep.

Vaguely, he realized that he had just dreamed Sin was there. He didn't know why he had. Sin was long gone and wouldn't return. Boyd was alone and they had killed him or were about to kill him. Apathy mixed with his throbbing head. Eyelids that felt too heavy fell shut and didn't open again.

Continue to Chapter 10