For the first time in my life, I hated being the enemy. I hated being the one that no girl would even consider glancing at. The gun that I usually wielded effortlessly suddenly felt heavy in my hands as I took my aim at the Traitor. I reminded myself that he wanted to remove my uncle from the throne, and that he was a bad influence for his daughter. And I fired. "No! No!" the girl shrieked, elbowing her captor hard in the ribs and running to her father. He would already be dead, I knew. I never missed my target. "You bastard!" she screamed at me as my comrade pulled her up roughly and dragged her back, shoving her so hard at the fence hut that she staggered back and collapsed against it. I averted my eyes, knowing that there was no way to apologize. No way to apologize that would make a difference, at any rate. "Her too?" Gunnar asked, nudging the girl up with the muzzle of his gun. She stood up, her eyes defiant. I shook my head ever so slightly. "Your name, girl?" I shouted, trying to sound demeaning. "Ofelia," she responded, her voice shaking. I could tell from her voice that she was more frightened than she wanted to let on. I tried not to let my voice soften as I would have liked to. "Age?" I asked, striding forward to get a better look at the girl. "Fifteen," she responded in a whisper. "Tie her here. I must speak with you," I said to Gunnar quickly. Gunnar did as I commanded, letting his hand linger for a moment at her calf after he had bound her hands and feet. She shrugged his hand away, spitting in his face. "Come," I ordered and we stepped away, far enough away so that she could not hear our hushed conversation. "If I may not kill her, may I at least keep her for myself? Please Karl? I ain't never had a girl, an' she's older 'an me too! Experienced, right?" Gunnar begged. I shook my head. "You're only fourteen Gunnar. I'm not letting you." I let Gunnar believe that I was trying to protect him, while in reality I was protecting the girl, Ofelia. I looked back at her, struggling in her bonds. She was cleaner than most of the Traitors, I observed. Perhaps she was not really one of them. Perhaps she was only a Traitor by blood. But my uncle would say that blood was equally damning. I could not let her live.