Runaway (The Knight Society #1)

I wasn’t expecting them to run to me and wrap me up in their arms. I wasn’t expecting a kiss on the forehead or an apology for all the shit they had put me through. I was expecting something more than the icy detachment with which they stared at me. Two years had passed but they still looked exactly the same. Mum with her pale skin and black hair tied back into a tight ponytail. She never looked anything less than perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. Her sharp cheekbones and pinched lips only added to her chilly exterior. Dad had his dark hair pushed back off his face, which with its defined hard features, appeared constantly disapproving. His tan skin which I inherited seemed slightly darker than usual but other than that he didn’t look any different than the last time I saw him. They both studied me, frowns firmly in place before my father tugged on the sleeves of his jacket.

“Training Room. Now.” He said and with that the both of them strode from the room. Familiar disappointment squeezed at my heart and I pushed away the crushing feeling. Turning back to Uncle John I gave him a tight smile.

“Guess it’s time huh?” He stared up at me with a look of such intense sadness I had to glance away. Clearing my throat I stared at the door through which my parents had just left. “Are you going to come?” I asked him quietly. Standing up he squeezed my shoulders and waited till I met his gaze.

“For you, I will.” This time I gave him a real smile. Steeling my nerves, I ducked under his arm and walked to the door. Once it closed behind me the silence on the other side exploded with noise. Most of which belonged to chairs scraping across the ground as people rushed to get to the Training Room before the show started. Quickly moving to my room, I changed into my training gear and made my way to the Training Room. By the time I reached it nearly everyone at the Institute was crammed in the room. The balcony was full so some people stood along the walls on the ground floor. My parents were quietly conversing in one corner of the room and I noticed everyone had given them a wide berth. Uncle John, Avery, Ed, Victoria and Pierre stood in another corner and I made my way over to them. They all flashed me encouraging smiles and cheered but I still couldn’t shake the feeling I was about to face a death sentence. Finally coming to a stop in front of Uncle John I accepted the syringe of H-toxin in his hand and quickly injected it.

“What are you doing?” Avery asked, concern clear in his voice.

“It’s an old battle technique.” Uncle John answered for me. “Usually there isn’t enough time to inject yourself with H-toxin during a fight when you get injured. So when you’re headed into a big battle you inject yourself beforehand. The H-toxin stays in your system for about an hour meaning it can heal anything you sustain during that hour so you don’t have to pause and inject. It’s sometimes used for training.” Avery nodded at the explanation but Pierre frowned.

“I’ve never heard of it being used in training before.” He said.

“That’s because not only is it old it is mostly frowned upon in Knight Society.” I answered. His frown however, only deepened.

“Why?” he asked. I gave him a grim smile.

“Because it encourages excess violence. If your opponent can heal from anything, then what’s the point in holding back right?” Everyone paled slightly at the thought but Pierre refused to let the topic die.

“But if it’s frowned upon then why are your parents using this method?” he asked and I smiled bitterly at his rose tinted glasses.

“Because while some prodigy’s are born, others are made.” Turning away I strode to the centre of the mat and watched as my parents decided on who was going to be fighting. My mother was a tactical fighter. Analysing her opponent’s moves and pinpointing weaknesses in order to take them down as quickly as possible. My father on the other hand was about brute strength and stamina. He more relied upon his strength to take down his opponents rather than outsmarting them. Of the two I preferred fighting my mother. At least with her it was quick and sometimes less painful. However I was guaranteed to walk away with a substantial amount of injury after sparring with my father.

Having come to a decision my father strode forward and my heart dropped into my stomach. There goes all chance of this being not too bad.

Whoop de-fucking-doo.

Taking his position opposite me he began to stretch out his muscles. My blood began to simmer, slowly heating to an inferno. My body tingled with anticipation and that fighting itch popped up again. Only this time my body could tell I was prey not predator. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime my father settled into a fighting stance and looked at me with his cool gaze.

With no indication, he struck and I barely missed being punched in the jaw. Dancing away I quickly dodged a kick to the stomach and tried for a punch to the face. My father easily blocked the blow and reciprocated by kneeing me in the stomach. All the air left my body and pain roared to life but I wasn’t foolish enough to slow down. Instead I swung my leg around kicking him in the jaw before jumping away. The blow, which would have taken down an average man, didn’t even phase him. I growled in frustration and leapt forward.

Punch after punch my father blocked and I only managed to get a few kicks in here and there but to him they barely even registered. Stepping back to catch my breath I watched as he changed his stance from defensive to offensive. Holding up my arms I prepared to block any number of attacks. Lightning fast he shot forward and punched me square on the face. I spun away and invested all my strength into not falling over. Pain exploded all over my face and I was ninety percent sure he had broken my cheekbone but I remained on my feet. Launching forward my father once again began his attacks some of which I managed to dodge or block but most I took the full brunt of. A particularly savage punch to the gut caused blood to spill from my mouth but the H-toxin quickly took care of it.

I was blocking another punch to the jaw when out of nowhere my feet slid out from under me. I landed with a crash on the ground and my father looked down at me, disapproval clear on his every feature.

“Sloppy mistake.” He said. Lifting up his foot he slammed it down on my leg and the cracking sound echoed loudly in the silence. For a second I felt nothing. Then white hot pain flooded my every nerve.

“AAAAGHHH!!!!” My scream filled the otherwise silent room. Spots danced across my vision and I clenched my teeth trying to calm my breathing. My leg felt like it was on fire and there was no doubt in my mind that he had broken it. My mind was filled with the one thought. Pain. It hurt so much I wanted to just curl up in a ball and cry but of course that wouldn’t be allowed.

This wasn’t the first time my parents had broken one of my bones. The worst was the one time they had messed with my spine leaving me temporarily paralysed. Compared to that, this was nothing. Or so I tried to tell myself. Glancing down I stared in horror at the sight of bone peeking out through the flesh. I knew the H-toxin couldn’t heal it properly until I reset the bone but the thought made me feel light-headed. You’ve done this plenty of times I reminded myself but the thought brought little comfort.

Reaching down I focused on the bone and slowly edged it back into place. It was a clean break, thank god for small mercies, but it still was a delicate process. A minute later the bone was back in place and the H-toxin began its work. I let out a shuddering breath of relief. I wouldn’t be able to use the leg properly for another hour or two but at least for now it would be fine.

“Stand up.” My father called from his position across the mattress. I looked up at him refusing to allow any emotion to show on my face. The silent room was broken by Uncle John’s cry of outrage.

“Max! You just broke her bloody leg! There is no way in hell she’s standing up!” Father just ignored him, keeping his eyes firmly on me.

“Don’t try my patience Jacqueline, stand up.” He said again. I knew it would be a hundred times worse if I just sat there, so with wobbly arms I pushed up and tried to stand while resting most of my weight on my good leg. The pain was a hundred times worse but somehow I managed to stand on two feet once again. Breathing heavily I stared at my father. Challenging him to do his worst. He just strode forward drew back his hand a punched me in the jaw. With no stability I tumbled to the ground again knocking my leg on the way down.

“Unfff.” I clenched my teeth refusing to give him the satisfaction of my screams.

“Get up!” My father yelled and once again I somehow dragged myself to my feet. This time I got kicked in the stomach and fell flat on my back. Just like old times I thought and I was tired enough that I chuckled around the blood in my mouth. Before he got the chance to yell again I pushed up with my arms and got to my feet. When he flew at me this time with a kick aimed for my stomach I managed to stumble backwards and just dodge it. He punched at my face but I dropped slightly and punched him in the stomach instead. The pain started to fade, adrenalin swiftly replacing it. I stumbled away from him before he could get another jab in. He spun around and punched me across the face. I once again hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re a disgrace.” He spat. I got back up quicker this time and managed to avoid the first four blows before being hit in the back with a kick. I had no idea how long this would continue for. Sometimes it could hours, other times it could be minutes. All I knew it would be much of the same thing. Wash, rinse, repeat. I laughed softly at the thought and was pushing myself to my feet when someone burst through the Training Room doors. Everyone’s attention switched to the female Knight puffing in the doorframe.

“Mongrels!” She burst out. “Mongrels in the courtyard!” For a moment only silence followed until the whole room burst into chaos.

Panic flooded the room in a quick gust. Cries echoed around the room and people pushed trying to get down the stairs of the balcony.

“SILENCE!” My father’s deep voice cut through the pandemonium and everyone quickly quietened down under its authority. “You.” He said, addressing the female Knight who had brought the news. “How many?” he asked. The woman paled under his scrutiny but quickly answered the question.

“Four sir.” The room seemed to calm a little, three Knights could easily handle four mongrels. My father quickly marched over to my mother and they engaged in a quick conversation. I let out a breath at the small reprieve and silently thanked god for the interruption. Turning back to the woman and the room Dad addressed the crowd.

“We shall deal with the issue immediately.” He said calmly and the most of the unease left the crowd. Quickly moving over he looked down at me.

“Get up now.” He said and with horror I realised they weren’t done with me after all. I pushed onto my feet and Uncle John moved forward.

“You have got to be kidding Max! You cannot send her out there in this condition!” he roared. Whispers filled the room as the others caught on. Mum walked over and handed me a sword grabbing it out of her hand I shuffled towards the door. Uncle John continued to yell at Dad who responded in an even cool tone, that man was never one to get worked up.

Pushing open the door I strapped the sword to my belt and walked outside. I moved as fast as possible with my busted up leg through the Institute. It wasn’t until I reached the stairs that led to the front door did I hear my name being called out behind me. Uncle John rounded the corner, not far behind him Avery and the others.

“Jack!” He called out, puffing. Racing over he placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. “You don’t have to do this.” He said like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like I could just sit down and refuse to go and kill the mongrels lurking outside. Pushing his hands off my shoulders I took a step back.

“Yeah? And then what happens next time?” I stared him down. “Remember what happened last time I refused one of their orders?” I saw him flinch but I was too overwhelmed with the memory to care.

One day a few years ago I was feeling particularly rebellious and I decided to stand up to my parents. Every day I was supposed to attend training lessons with Krug but that particular morning I put my foot down. I demanded the day off, wanting for once, to be able to spend the day like all the other kids my age. I was quickly denied and my parents decided I was in need of a punishment for my defiance.

First they broke one of my arms and then both of my legs. At the far side of the room, about twenty metres away, they placed a small bell. Reach the bell within five minutes and I would receive a dose of H-toxin. If I didn’t manage to accomplish this I would be dragged back to the beginning and have to try again. It took me seven tries. All the while my parents stood on the sidelines lecturing me about the importance of following orders. It was a lesson in obedience and unsurprisingly it worked. I never missed another lesson.

“Jack.” Uncle John tried but I cut him off.

“No. I can handle it.” I said and took off down the stairs. My leg still slowed me down a bit but still not as bad as before. Creeping forward I pushed the door open a crack and slipped outside.

Every person has their own limit. A point which upon reaching they have two options; surrender or fight. Upon seeing the four mongrels outside the Institute I could feel that choice looking down upon me. So, like always, I chose to fight. Shutting off my brain a sense of calm fell over me and I let my instincts take over. Acting of its own volition my body leapt forward and attacked. Attacks blurred into one another, blending into a mixture of deadly strikes. What felt like a lifetime took mere moments and after it was over anyone who had watched would have known it hadn’t been a battle, it had been a slaughter. After the dust settled I stood alone, surrounded by a pile of monstrous corpses.

Closing my eyes I pushed back the blood lust and waited for my pounding heart to slow its thunderous beats. Voices intruded upon my peace and I opened my eyes to find the crowd from the training room huddled around the front door. There was a mixed reaction from the audience; shock, amazement, fear. Underneath those emotions however was something else. One I wasn’t accustomed to and did not appreciate. Pity. It was like I had said, some prodigy’s are born and some are made and now that everyone glimpsed the production process they felt sorry for me. The thought filled me with so much rage I shook. After all these years, after all the hardship Thomas and I had been put through, all the suffering, now they decide the end result wasn’t worth it. It was beyond demeaning, as if they were saying our sacrifice meant nothing.

My parents pushed away from the crowd and I was surprised at the overwhelming hate that filled me. The dark emotion burned its way through my body, demanding I act, crying out for retribution. My mind filled with visions of them lying dead alongside the mongrels below me. Amongst the torrent of hate a small voice couldn’t help but still wonder if they were proud, but self-disgust soon snuffed it out. Wrapping my hands around the hilt of my sword I pulled it from its position in a mongrel’s body and strolled out to meet my parents.

A few feet away from each other we stopped. They scanned me with their cold clinical eyes and my grip on my sword tightened. Not even a flicker of emotion registered on their carefully blank faces and I knew my own face reflected the same shuttered look.

“It seems you haven’t been slacking in some aspects of your training thankfully.” My mother’s cool tone broke the silence and I ignored my father’s grunt of agreement. Another silence fell and I waited for them to say more, waited for them to finally act like actual parents for once in their lives.

“Others however are clearly lacking. We have to leave for Rio tomorrow on mission, we can drop you off in London on the way there. You will pick up your training where you left off.” Father said. My heart clenched painfully in disappointment but it barely even registered. Somewhere in my brain I marvelled at the fact that I was so used to being let down by them that I hardly felt any pain when it happened. How utterly depressing.

“Jacqueline?” My mother asked as soon as I didn’t immediately agree. I ground my teeth at the sound of my old name. My mind flashed back to my conversation with Uncle John.

“I knew Jacqueline Bell, but when I look at you Squirt I see the person you’ve become over these last two years. You enter that building and you won’t be Jacqueline Bell, you’ll be Jack. Aren’t you tired of running away?”

I had chosen to come back. Chosen to stop running away no matter how hard things got and now at the first sign of trouble, the first test of my resolve I was running away? No. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I’m not scared Jacqueline Bell dancing to her parents tune. I am Jack; runaway, former child prodigy, Knight Society legend. I had fought and killed dozens of mongrels. Fended for myself over the past two years. I had survived the death of my best friend and I was damn well not going to let them break me again.

“No.” The word came out as a savage growl. Two brows furrowed in confusion.

“No?” My father asked his voice deceptively light. I met his steely gaze with an iron hard one of my own.

“No. I’m not going back to London.” For the first time in years my parent’s careful masks cracked slightly, revealing shock. Shock at my disobedience. The thought made a hysterical giggle bubble in my throat and the implications of what I was actually doing sunk in.

“Jacqueline.” My mother’s tone was full of warning. Reaching out she tried to put a hand on my arm but I jerked out of her grip.

“No.” I said forcing my resolve into my voice. “I am never going to go back to London. Not now, not ever.” Father scoffed and crossed him arms.

“So what, you’re going to complete the rest of your training up here?” he asked scornfully. Usually I would shrink under his tone and berate myself for being so stupid. Instead I straightened forcing steel into my spine and met his patronizing gaze.

“Yes in fact I think I will” he opened his mouth to argue but I cut him off “and you are just going to have to deal with that.” I said matter-of-factly. Tossing down the sword I strode past them and headed for the Institute where a crowd of gobsmacked people watched the little scene. I met Uncle John’s gaze and my heart warmed at the pride I saw reflected there.

“Where on earth do you think you’re going?” My mother screeched. Her voice was so different from her usual icy tone I had to turn and make sure it was her who spoke. Her face was filled with rage while my father stood there blinking in disbelief. Filling my tone with as much sass as possible I replied.

“To wash off all the blood mother. I wouldn’t want to disgrace you with my shameful appearance.” With that I turned on my heel, walked through the parted crowd and into the Institute.