Chapter Text
Phillip sits at his desk with his head in his hands, rubbing circles against his temples.
"Out of all the guards, you just had to take that one. Now Layla is on to us and she's not going to stop until she finds the truth." A voice very similar to Phillip's speaks up from the shadows. The faint sound of a blade grating against a whetstone causes the captain to wince.
"You didn't tell me anyone was off limits but that girl. And I have held up that end for too long." Phillip looks up, catching only the outline of a man, slouching on the velvet chaise lounge that was kept in here just for him.
"What are you saying?" The man sits up and shifts towards Phillip, his boots coming into the light. Blood coats the bottoms of them, not even fully dry yet.
"You said you would do anything for this, are you backing out?" Phillip pulls his eyes from the boots and instead looks to where he believes the man's face is, shaking his head. The quiet is broken momentarily by something hitting the wall and all the guards in the barracks cheering. They both turn their heads to the noise and Phillip stands, walking to the door and locking it before turning to the man.
"Of course not, but..." But she's the only one who understands.
"There is no but. If this girl is going to figure us out then we need to get rid of her before that happens." There's a pause as the man lays back down on the couch, crossing his feet at the ankles. Phillip grimaces, knowing it's likely to leave blood behind. The knife catches the light as he continues to sharpen, drawing Phillip back. "Plus, she's bound to have the ingredients we're looking for." Phillip can hear the smirk in his voice and he stands, almost knocking his chair over with the force.
"We are not killing her. That is final. Just don't be so sloppy next time and this won't happen." The knife stops abruptly.
"I'm sorry what? As I recall, you were the one that couldn't be bothered to get your hands dirty." Looking down, Phillip sees the portrait that sits on his desk. His sister, barely eleven years old, smiles back at him and he remembers why he's doing this in the first place. Sighing, he slumps back down in his chair.
"Sorry. Just make sure you stick to recruits from here on out, okay?" The man stands and walks to a door in the back that leads outside, leaving sticky footprints for Phillip to scrub later.
"Sure." The last thing Phillip catches is his shaggy brown hair and the knife that glimmers in the moonlight before the door swings shut.