The sun had barely risen, but the city already felt tense. Cold wind scraped through the streets like a whisper of something coming—something dark. The coordinates Damien sent led them to the edge of the industrial zone, where time itself seemed to rot with the buildings.
Ava adjusted the bulletproof vest beneath her coat, fingers tightening around her gun. Marcus stood beside her, silent, unreadable—but his eyes flicked to her every few seconds, as if to make sure she was still there. Still breathing.
"This place is a maze," she murmured, staring at the sprawling complex in front of them—half-factory, half-graveyard. "He planned this."
"He's counting on fear to guide us off track," Marcus said. "But we stick to the plan."
She nodded, though her chest felt heavy. There was a storm behind her ribs—made of guilt, fear, and something dangerously close to hope. Nathan could be inside. Alive. Or it could be another game. Another knife waiting to twist.
They moved through the first corridor together, flashlights slicing through dust-choked air. Crates lined the walls. Machinery loomed like sleeping beasts.
Ten minutes in, the silence cracked.
A noise—metal scraping concrete.
Marcus raised a hand, signaling her to stop. He took the lead, steps careful. They turned the corner, guns ready—
Nothing.
But Ava's gut told her it wasn't nothing.
She motioned to a narrow staircase. "He's herding us."
Marcus met her eyes. "Then we change the game."
Before she could ask how, a voice echoed through the space.
Not through her phone.
Through the walls.
Speakers.
Damien.
"Do you know what it feels like," he said, his voice calm and theatrical, "to love someone who forgets you exist? To watch them move on, while you rot in shadows?"
Ava stiffened.
"He's talking about you," Marcus said, jaw tight.
"No." Her breath trembled. "He's talking about Nathan."
They followed the sound deeper into the structure. The halls narrowed, the walls closing in like a throat swallowing them whole.
The next room had blood.
Not a body—just a trail. Fresh.
Marcus's expression hardened. "He's here."
They followed the trail to a locked door. Ava went to step forward—but Marcus grabbed her arm.
"Let me."
She hesitated. "You think he trapped it?"
"I think he knows you'll run in."
Their eyes locked—and then Marcus kicked the door open, gun aimed.
Empty.
Almost.
A recording device lay in the center. On loop, Damien's voice continued.
"She loved him. She still does. Even now."
Marcus's lips thinned. "He's trying to wedge us apart."
Ava turned away from the device. "It won't work."
Then the explosion hit.
It wasn't fire—it was force. A blast from the right wall. The structure groaned, steel screaming.
Ava was thrown backward, pain exploding in her side as she slammed against metal. Her head struck something hard. Stars filled her vision.
"Ava!" Marcus's voice cut through the haze.
She tried to move—her leg wouldn't respond. Blood spread beneath her.
Marcus was at her side in seconds, hands moving fast, assessing the wound.
"Don't move," he said, voice trembling with restraint. "You're bleeding—left thigh. Shrapnel."
She hissed as he pressed fabric to the wound. "I'm fine—"
"You're not," he snapped. "You're not okay and you don't get to pretend."
His eyes were wild. Afraid.
Her hand found his wrist. "Marcus…"
"No. Not now. Let me stop the bleeding."
She let him work, biting her lip until it bled. Her vision blurred again—pain sharp, pulsing.
When the worst passed, she whispered, "He knew I'd follow the blood."
Marcus's jaw clenched. "And he knew I'd follow you."
"I slowed us down."
"You're not a burden." His voice was fierce. "You're the reason we're even close."
She tried to laugh—but it came out a choked sob. "You sound like you care."
He stilled. "I do."
Something passed between them. No noise. No signal. Just the raw honesty of shared breath.
He leaned closer, brushing hair from her face.
"I can't lose you," he whispered.
"You won't."
"You say that, but you were on the ground—bleeding, shaking—" His voice cracked. "And I couldn't protect you."
"You did. You are." She gripped his hand tighter. "But we still have to finish this."
He nodded reluctantly, but didn't move.
Ava swallowed the pain and forced herself upright. The bleeding had slowed. Marcus wrapped a temporary bandage and slung her arm around his shoulder.
"You're limping," he noted.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
His grin was faint—but real.
They pushed on, one painful step at a time. The halls grew darker, colder. More deliberate.
Another room.
This one had a chair. A camera. And blood-stained rope.
Ava's breath hitched.
"Nathan was here," she whispered.
Then a sound—a soft cough. From the next corridor.
Marcus tensed.
"Stay behind me," he ordered.
She didn't argue.
They turned the corner.
There he was.
Nathan.
Alive. Barely.
His hands were tied above his head, lips split, eyes swollen—but open.
"Ava?" His voice cracked. "Is it really…?"
She rushed forward despite the pain, reaching for the rope. Marcus covered them.
"I've got you," she said, tears streaming. "I've got you."
Nathan collapsed into her arms.
"You shouldn't have come," he whispered.
She pulled him close. "We weren't going to leave you."
Marcus's voice cut in. "We have to move. Now."
But Nathan's eyes widened in horror. "No—you don't get it—he's still here—he's—"
Too late.
The lights snapped off.
Ava pulled her gun. "Marcus!"
But no response.
Then a click.
A spotlight.
And Damien stepped out of the shadows.
He looked calm. Almost peaceful.
"Isn't this sweet?" he murmured. "The detective, the damsel, the broken lover. All here. Just like I planned."
Marcus moved fast, stepping in front of them. Gun up. Eyes deadly.
"Drop it," he said.
Damien smiled. "No."
Another click.
From the ceiling—chains shifted.
A second explosion wasn't far. It shook the rafters. The ceiling groaned.
Marcus grabbed Ava and Nathan. "Run!"
But Ava fell again—her leg giving out.
Marcus caught her—hauled her up.
Damien watched them with fascination.
"You can't save them both," he whispered. "One of them will die."
Marcus didn't hesitate.
He dragged them both.
Through the dark. Through falling debris.
Out into the light of a broken dawn.
Only when the structure collapsed behind them did they stop—heaving, bleeding, alive.
Ava lay on the grass, Nathan beside her. Marcus stood over them—gun still in hand, breathing hard.
Damien was gone.
But they were together.
Alive.
For now.
---