There was silence as Lucien recoiled his head, his eyes widening in surprise. Ellen watched as his hand was re-positioned near her neck, now applying more pressure on the blade. She sincerely hoped that Dvorak was not bluffing and even if something happened, he would be taken down with her.

Her pulse quickened.

"And why would that be?" he laughed.

But his laugh was nervous, almost knowing that the next few minutes would mean the difference between winning and losing; living and dying. The tables could turn and they could turn awfully quickly.

Dvorak remained standing in front of Lucien, tucking his arms behind his back. He said one word; one word which provided absolutely no reasoning: "Because."

Just as she was thinking – convincing ­­– herself that it was a bluff, Ellen caught slaw movement from the top of her eyes. Someone had just stepped into view atop one of the museum turrets; someone which gave her hope and couldn't help but make her smile. He was a sight for her tired eyes and she was grateful that she was able to see him again.

His usually long, shimmering silver hair was tied up and his usual robes were changed for a black vest. He also wore a satchel but-

No, it wasn't a satchel. It was a quiver, the container poking out from behind his shoulder. His arms were outstretched, pulling back on an arrow which had been loaded. Was the game over for Lucien?

He let out a sigh of relief, an indication that he was expecting something much, much more; something more grand.

"You have but one person," he called out, loud enough for Hans to hear.

"You see. That's where you're wrong." Dvorak outstretched one his arms, a finger pointing into the distance.

He looked to where the man was pointing and swallowed hard. There was a split-second before he wrenched Ellen off the floor, her knees thanking for the reprieve. He pushed her to turn around so that she was now had the two figures on either side of her as if she was a human shield. She caught a glimpse of Claudia, dressed similarly to Hans, holding a daunting crossbow aimed directly at them.

"I'd re-evaluate the situation if I were you three," he yelled in desperation. He was clutching at straws now; straws that were disappearing as more of the situation unravelled. His ruthless, his tirades, appeared to be catching up with him. "All it takes is one stroke and she's gone. It would be a shame to lose such a beautiful girl but if it's needed, so be it!"

He ran a finger from Ellen's forehead, down her cheek and then stroked her neck. He kissed her forehead, the knife held steady.

I need you to move in front of him so I have a clean path, she heard Hans tell her.

If she moves, she dies. We only have one shot at this. The moment you move forward Ellen, Hans and I will need to shoot. It was Claudia this time, her commanding and strategic skills making a strong surge forward.

I'll do anything so long as we can get rid of him.

Ellen saw both of them retrain there weaponry, reapplying the tension to the projectiles. The strings on them were pulled tight as if it was a violin but this was no time to make music, and they weren't instruments. They were designed with one intent.

"So what will it be, you pieces of scum? Do I send her to Dvorak's children?" He shot a smile at Dvorak, the man still standing and trying to remain calm. There was no reply to Lucien's question, the silence driving him to be impatient. He took a deep breath, and shrugged.

"Have it your way then."

Ellen felt a burning sensation start at the side of her neck and she cried out in pain as it began to surge through her nerves. The rain washed at the open wound, stinging and washing away the blood which poured from it. The river stained her clothes, and formed a pool around her feet. And then it started carving a trail through the crevices in the bitumen and dripped into a nearby gutter.

She felt weak, lightheaded, but also infuriated like a rampaging bull. She struggled to remain standing however, she refused to back down from the fight. But then a heavy mass pushed onto her back, and it dragged her down to the road as it fell. Lucien's body fell on-top of her and she struggled to free herself from the man. Even in death, he clutched onto her. She let out a scream.

She heard hurried – running – footsteps approach her and a clank as Claudia put down her crossbow. Both Claudia and Dvorak leaned over her, Claudia's hands pushing onto Ellen's neck; Dvorak pulling Lucien off her.

"Don't move," he breathed to her as he heaved the weight off her. He dropped to his knees, and checked her pulse. It was still beating – it was still strong. "She will make it if we go now but she will need to be kept stable and off her feet. We will also need to go as quickly as we can. I clamped his communication but it's not a guarantee that he didn't have another method of contact."

There were more footsteps as Hans joined, sprinting to them from the turret. He placed his bow down, and held onto Ellen's hand.

"She'll be okay, yes?" he asked, staring at Dvorak. She could see his temples pulsing and hear the worry in his voice.

The old man shook his head in response. "If we move now. She's likely to make it, but we need better resources that are back at the manor. We need to pick her up and go."

Claudia picked up her crossbow, flinging it around her arm. "On the count of three then." Hans hastily picked up his bow, the bow which Ellen recognised to be hers. Hans had used her own weapon to kill the man that had entrapped her; tortured her.

"One. Two. Three."

Ellen felt herself being picked up, each of the three adults supporting a different part of her body. She cast a glance in Lucien's direction, relief washing over her that it was over.

That he was gone.

A bolt stuck out from his back, and an arrow protruded from his chest, piercing directly through his clothes. His eyes were closed and he was lying in a dam of blood. His hair was mottled, wet and red.

His own blood.

His own blood that was drawn to avenge all the innocent lives he had taken. Even the rain couldn't wash away his sins.

And now his own life was taken, like he used to take others; him never being able to take a single one again.

Justice had been brought.

She took a last look of Lucien's body and shed a tear, the fear and angst leaving her body.

And then she felt herself go weightless and the familiar darkness surrounded her.

Untouched.