-•NATHAN•-

Unease rolled over me as the clock neared six-thirty. The sun was starting to go down and Bruce and Ryder hadn't come back with the healer yet. I mentally cursed myself for not going to fetch him myself. The job would've been done much more efficiently.

"Would you stop worrying? You look like dad," Hayley said with a roll of her eyes.

"Go make yourself useful in the armory. Alvin told me he needed your help teaching the little ones about knife 101," I said, gesturing toward the door of the cellar.

"He told you he needed my help?," she asked, eyes glittering.

The truth was, Alvin didn't actually tell me that he needed my sisters help but I didn't want her here when the healer came. I needed to focus.

I nodded. "Yeah, but you better hurry, Hales, I heard Kenna asked him first but he was waiting for you instead," I said with a slight shrug.

Another lie.

She gasped. "Kenna asked him? But she's horrible at knives. No, I guess I'll go before the kids accidentally stab themselves in the eye," she said with a shake of her head.

Before she left, she turned around and met my eyes. "I looked at the healers' file, even though you and dad told me not to," she started.

"Haley, I-."

"No, Nathan listen to me. I know you tease me for being soft, but just show a little compassion for that healer boy. I don't know his name but he...he lost his mom just like we did-," she said tentatively.

"Go, now. This isn't a game, Haley. We've all lost someone. Like I said before, I'll do whatever the hell I have to do to keep this gang alive. To keep you alive."

She peered at me with a downcast expression but nodded anyway. When she left, I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I didn't get any sleep last night, neither did Kyle or Ally. We spent the chief of the night interrogating Tyler about his involvement with the K Blades. He said that he was blackmailed into doing it, that he didn't want to disclose anything about the Creeds but that when initiation came, he would have to. I didn't buy it. Tyler would say anything with a gun pointed at his head.

My father said that he could be useful in the future so we kept him alive. If it was up to me, he'd be already buried into the ground for being a traitor to the family that gave him food to eat and a bed to crash on when he didn't have anything at all.

I blew out a breath and checked the clock again. It was nearly seven in the evening, the sun had already gone down. Just as I was about to exit the cellar and hunt down Bruce and Ryder, they burst through the metal door hauling a smaller person with them.

The small figure was trembling wildly, I could hear sniffling coming from beneath the black linen sack that was thrown over his head.

"You're late. Why?," I demanded.

"We had to wait for the right time, Nate. This kid can run, believe it or not," Ryder said, landing the boy down none too gently onto the cold cellar floor.

"Yeah, he was running through neighborhoods like it was fucking Christmas morning or something," Bruce said, bewilderment in his voice.

"Why would you chase him through neighborhoods? That's too suspicious, someone could have recognized you-."

"We weren't the ones chasing him through neighborhoods, the kid was already running," Ryder said, with an odd glance toward the trembling form on the floor.

Who was be running from? Maybe I had a lot more questions to ask than I thought.

"All right, fine, go and stand guard outside."

The pair nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and one more thing," I said. "If you're ever late again, both of you are losing a finger, got it?"

Bruce and Ryder looked at each other in panic.

I almost would have laughed if I wasn't feeling in the worst mood possible. "Relax, it's a joke, but seriously, plan ahead next time."

Smirks replaced their looks of panic. "Yes, sir," Bruce mock saluted before he closed the door.

When the door was fully closed, the sound of the small boy's sniffling became more evident. I crouched in front of him and in one swift motion, relieved the bag from his head.

The healer looked up at me with wide hazel eyes which were pooled with tears. His caramel colored locks were tousled from the bag that covered his head. His right cheek was bright red, a tiny cut smeared with blood lined the apple of his cheek. He looked thin and fragile, like he hadn't eaten in months. His lip quivered, holding back a sob.

"Don't hurt me, I didn't do anything wrong, I promise," he said, shrinking into himself.

He looked like a frightened puppy led astray from his mother.

"It seems someone already did hurt you. Want to tell me who did that to your face?," I asked, keeping my voice low. Something told me that he wouldn't comply if I started yelling at him. He was already too frightened and I hadn't even done anything to him.

The quivering boy broke his gaze with me and fixed it on the cold stone floor instead. He shook his head.

"Okay, fine then. Let's start with your name. Tell me it," I said, training my eyes on the delicate skin of his face.

He turned to me, eyes wide, hands shaking. "Are you going to hurt me?," he whimpered.

"I won't have to if you tell me your name," I said, voice rising in frustration.

He jutted out his lip then broke out in a full out sob. A slight pang in my chest struck me as I watched him cry uncontrollably. I ignored it.

I sighed and got up from the crouch I was in to retrieve a water bottle from the table. When I offered it to him, he halted his crying. His big hazel eyes tentatively scanned the water bottle, then me, as if contemplating if he should take it or not.

After a seconds hesitation, he took it eagerly and gulped it down. I crouched down in front of him once more.

"All right, now tell me your name. Surely you know it," I said, keeping my voice from rising.

He set the water bottle aside gently and fixed me with a wary glance. "If I tell you, will you let me go?," he said in a small voice.

One. Two. Three. Four. My mother once told me that if I counted, the numbers would keep me from acting irrationally. When I got too frustrated, the numbers usually helped, but only to a certain extent.

Focus, Nathan.

"Here's how this is going to go, you're going to answer the questions that I ask you, if not then I'm going to hurt you. Understand?," I stated, keeping my voice leveled.

His lashes wet with fresh tears and he rubbed his left wrist. I noticed that it was bruised red in the shape of a handprint.

"What happened there?," I asked, jutting my head in the direction of his wrist.

He shook his head again, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

"Okay, well we can stay here all night, so unless you plan on eating, I suggest you start answering me," I said, getting up and settling in the chair.

Lies. We couldn't stay here all night. Really good fighters were dying this very moment. I didn't have time for things to take long.

The boy sniffed. He muttered something inaudible.

"What was that?," I asked, leaning in.

"Presley," he said softly.

"That's your name?"

He nodded. "Mhm."

"What's your full name?," I pressed.

"Presley Flint," he answered, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Do you know why you're here, Presley?," I asked, checking my watch. It was a quarter past seven.

Tears welled in his eyes again. He shook his head.

"You're here because my gang needs your help," I said, running a hand through my hair. "You're a very popular person right now, you know, because of your little talent."

"Gang? But gangs are dangerous," he answered, voice trembling.

"Very true, Presley, they are very dangerous but I'm in a gang and I'm not hurting you, am I?," I pressed further.

He looked at me warily. "No, but I think you'd hurt me if you didn't need my help," he whispered, avoiding my gaze.

"Also very true. I hurt a lot of people, all for the right reasons of course but I'm hoping that I don't have to waste time hurting you."

Presley looked back at me, his breathing becoming labored. "Why-why do you need my help? I'm- I'm useless," he said, voice soft.

"From what I hear, that's not entirely true. You can make medicine, yes? Heal people? Heal anything, is what I hear," I stated.

His cheeks tinted a light shade of pink. "I'm not that good, I just- I don't like seeing people get hurt, that's all," he said quietly, more to himself.

"But you can do all those things, correct?," I pushed.

He nodded bashfully at me.

Great. We were finally getting somewhere.

"Presley, how'd you like to join my gang?," I asked, outright, bracing myself for more sobs that might escape him.

His expression turned alarmed.

When in doubt, persuade.

"You see that bruise on your wrist? That cut on your face? If you join my gang, you wouldn't have to run from anyone. No one would hurt you again," I said, trying to win him over.

Submit. Submit. Submit.

He looked at me with hope in his big hazel eyes, then he looked at my hands, the ones that were littered with tattoos, the ones that displayed cuts.

"I...I can't tell if you're lying," he said, wiping a tear from his face.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

"If I didn't need you here, you wouldn't be here, Presley. The truth is, if you don't help my gang, a lot of very good people are going to die. Do you want them to die?," I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"I know that you really don't have any family. If you become one of us, one of the Creeds, you'll have your own income, a place to stay, if you'd like, and the protection of the Creeds. But you need to be our healer. You need to help the gang," I said, keeping the desperation out of my voice.

Presley looked down, fiddling with a loose thread from his sweater. "Aren't gangs illegal?," he whispered.

I studied him carefully, then leaned back in my chair. "Not entirely. It's only illegal if you're caught. The key is to do illegal things for the right reasons."

He looked confused at my words. I wasn't surprised. "Can I think about it at least?," he asked, voice cracking.

"No," I said sharply.

He flinched, eyes welling up with tears again.

Damn it, Nathan. Focus.

"You don't have to tell me about your life before you came here," I sighed, rubbing a tired hand through my hair. "All you have to do is submit. No one even has to know that you joined, would that satisfy you?"

After a moment of silence, he spoke up tentatively. "But what if they don't like me? A lot of people don't like me," he said quietly.

"Who are you referring to, kid?," I asked quizzically.

He gave a lazy shrug and sighed quietly. "Your...gang. What if they don't like me?"

I gave him a questioning brow. "I'm pretty sure they'd be glad to welcome the person that's going to save their life."

A tiny smile crawled its way onto his pink lips, then it vanished. I gave him his moment of silence.

"Okay, I... I'll join your gang. I'll help them. If you say that you'll give me a place to stay and...and money then, I'll stay, but there's two more things I want," he peered up with wide eyes at me.

I grunted. This boy was not in a position to be requesting things.

"Go on," I urged.

He swallowed hard. "Can I...can I still go to school?"

I considered for a moment. Sure, he could go to school but if someone was injured during the day, he'd need to cut class.

"Yeah, I guess you could but you'd be on the gangs' schedule. That means if we need you, you come, no matter what," I explained. "There's punishments if you fail to follow my rules."

He nodded eagerly. "I can do that, I promise."

"What was the second thing?," I urged.

"Mints. Just a pack of mints. They'll help me work better," he explained softly.

I gave him a look of confusion. "All right, fair."

I extended my hand in a gesture for him to shake it. He looked at it hesitantly. After a split second, he extended his small hand and shook my larger one.

"Welcome to the Creeds, where loyalty is all we ask," I could say that phrase even if I was asleep, I've done it a thousand times over.

"What's...what's your name?," he asked, retracting his hand hastily.

"I'm Nathan."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

He ignored my statement. "Yesterday, in the morning, was it...was it your gang in the green truck that chased me?," he asked, the frightened look back on his delicate features.

I felt my expression turn grave. Shit. All hells.

"I guess the K Blades are after your little talent too."