Author:
M.J. Swenson has been writing stories since elementary school and earned a B.A. in Creative Writing from the University of St. Thomas, Minnesota. Besides writing and reading, M.J. also enjoys playing music and video games.

I woke up feeling that something had changed.

I blinked twice, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and glanced at the clock beside my bed. It read 6:38, as it did every morning. I slid out of bed and moved to my dresser, where I opened the third drawer and pulled out a dark blue V-necked shirt with short sleeves and a dark blue pair of pants. I changed in front of the mirror and examined myself. I looked just as I had the last time I’d looked in the mirror: long, straight, dark brown hair; blue eyes; an absurdly straight and narrow nose; the slight scar at the edge of my eyebrow. The scar whose origin I still couldn’t remember.

Familiar Assassins

I woke again, this time to a hand shaking my shoulder. Despite the pain, I managed to raise an arm and swat at the hand that had a vise grip on my back.


"What the hell," I growled, my voice coming out drowsy and incoherent. "Back off."


"For someone who's just waking up, you sure are aggressive," a familiar voice said, and the face of Thane Flynn came into focus.


"Oh Triad." I blinked and looked into his teasing forest eyes. "Thane. I'm sorry."


"No problem," he said, rising to his full height. "How are you feeling? How are your wounds?"


"Well, obviously they're still not healed, as you just demonstrated," I said.


"Do you think you can get up?" he asked


"What's this about?" I asked, trying to squirm sideways off the table.


"We've got a mission to run," he said. "And we need you there. Are you okay?"


Rebel leader Thane didn't give a damn whether I was okay. I could see flashes of my classmate returning in his eyes, sparks of delicious concern.


Chapter 43