Dear Ex-wife Marry Me by Twin Bridge

Maja strode over, her eyes scanning the injuries on their bodies with a practiced gaze. “We need to find someplace to hole up. For some reason, tonight Middle Island is a mess, and we’ve got targets on our backs.” Gun in hand, her expression was the epitome of cool composure. “Patric, give him a hand, will ya?” “Maja, I’m starving.” He’d been rolling around on the ground for so long, and Quentin hadn’t given him so much as a morsel. His hunger was real, and he felt feverish, his body burning up. Maja quickly rummaged through her bag and handed him a bottle of warm milk and a few cookies. The whole exchange set them back about five minutes. “You’re the best, Maja.” Patric, now fortified with some food, had the strength to help Quentin to his feet. Maja led the way, gun ready. Quentin limped along, occasionally glancing at Maja, then back at the simpleton silently supporting him. To be honest, both of them were simpletons in his eyes. Playthings in his game, and they didn’t even realize it. Tonight’s events were unexpected, but they presented an opportunity to gather information on the Jellyfish Seal. And he wasn’t going to die. He’d been physically different from others since childhood. Even if left for dead in some forgotten corner, he’d claw his way back to life. That didn’t mean he was immune to pain, though. He hurt, but still, he managed to ask, “Why are these people after us, Maja? You got something they want?” They’d made it to an alleyway, far enough to still hear the remnants of chaos behind them – the villa they had just vacated was probably in ruins now. “Maja, where are we headed?” He knew the layout of Forbidden Island like the back of his hand and was aware of several hideouts that would be safe from their pursuers, but he couldn’t let on. Maja remained silent, likely grappling with the night’s events. She had taken lives tonight, more than she could count, and her hand shook as it gripped the weapon. Tonight had shattered her worldview. Never in her time outside had she experienced such heart-stopping, adrenaline-pumping, real bullet-flying combat. They finally stopped under a dilapidated bridge, a perfect hideout surrounded by cover and surprisingly clean. Unless someone got close, they’d never spot the tent Maja set up. Quentin was taken aback by the spot. Once the tent was pitched, Maja guided both him and Patric inside. Many of Middle Island’s homeless sought refuge under bridges or in tunnels. Their pursuers would need time to search, and this hidden bridge provided temporary sanctuary. Maja administered a fever reducer to Patric. “Get some rest,” she instructed. Patric nodded and was out like a light. They lay on blankets Maja had brought, alongside some provisions, water, and the medicine Quentin had purchased earlier. They were down to the bare essentials. Maja placed her gun aside and began tending to Quentin’s wound. His knee was the issue, the bullet lodged deep. It would be tricky, but it had to come out. “Brace yourself, Quentin.” She stepped out to find a clean stick by the riverbed for him to bite down on. “The bullet’s got to come out, and a hospital trip is out of the question. It’s on me.” Quentin nodded, and as she

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the ground, coated in blood. Sweat beaded Maja’s brow, which she wiped with her sleeve before proceeding to disinfect the wound. “Holding up okay, Quentin?” “Yeah.” “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess on Middle Island. That tattoo on your neck. I’ll find a way to deal with it someday. You didn’t