"We're going to jump?! This is the fourth floor, Erion!" Evah's voice wavered as she sat on the bed, trying to steady her racing heartbeat.
"No, we're not jumping, you idiot." Erion's tone was sharp, his eyes never leaving the door. "We'll use the fire escape ladder."
She stared at him, bewildered, panic clawing at her chest.
Erion's eyes flashed with irritation. "We can wait for them to attack, and you'll end up in the middle of it—you'll witness it. Or we can escape through the window. I didn't say anything about jumping," he snapped back, his frustration clear.
Erion was already moving, his focus completely consumed by the monitors. "Choose now."
"How can I choose?!" Her voice cracked. "The fire escape ladder is terrifying, too!" Fear wasn't even the right word—her entire body was gripped by panic, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin.
What if they come in now? What if they kill us? What if I die? What if Erion's the target? Her thoughts spiraled, each darker than the last.
"Can't we just call the police?" she suggested, desperate for a way out.
"They won't make it in time," he muttered, eyes scanning the room with deadly focus. His gun, casually tucked under his jacket, glinted in the low light. Damn it, I don't want her to see this.
Footsteps echoed from all directions, signaling the incoming threat. He knew—he could feel it in his bones. It was his fault for hesitating, giving her too much time to panic.
"Get down! Under the bed, now!" His voice was cold as steel, and he quickly pulled on a pair of black gloves.
Evah froze, her gaze glued to him. Why is he putting gloves on? His eyes, dark and unblinking, locked onto hers with a chilling intensity. He was waiting—waiting for something. Something to break. Her entire body tensed at the thought.
"What are you doing?" Her voice trembled as she scrambled for answers. "I thought we were escaping!"
He stepped toward her, his hand gripping her shoulder with unexpected force. "Listen to me, Evah. Go under the bed. Don't make a sound. If I don't make it out, you wait for reinforcements. Got it?"
His eyes were cold, but there was something in them—something that made her stomach drop. The way he spoke was clinical, as if it wasn't a question of if he'd survive, but when this would all end.
"I'm not going anywhere without you," she whispered, her throat tight with emotion.
He didn't flinch. "Do it, now."
The words barely sank in as her heart pounded violently in her chest. Did he just say… The thought of him being killed hit her like a sledgehammer. Her body refused to move, her mind frozen with images of Erion—Erion, covered in blood, his life draining away.
I can't let that happen. I can't lose him. The guilt surged, suffocating her. If anything happened to him because of her, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. Her breaths became shallow, the thought too overwhelming to bear. But she couldn't speak. She couldn't even move as the walls closed in.
"Move!" Erion shook her urgently, then quickly turned back to the monitor by the door.
He drew his silver gun, attaching the silencer with practiced ease.
One... two... three... four... five. Why are there so many?
He glanced at Evah, still in shock but crawling slowly under the bed.
She's a nobody, he thought, frustration building. Why the hell do they need five people just to take her? They're not here to kidnap her—they're ready to kill.
A true kidnapping operation is silent, methodical—like an assassin. They strike fast and vanish. If they miss their timing, they'll retreat, wait, and try again. It's why they're so hard to catch. But barging in and killing someone in cold blood? That increases the chances of getting caught.
The plan had been to hold out for ten minutes, see if they would make their move...Then a figure appeared in the corridor, just a unit away. They're showing themselves? Erion's mind raced. What the hell are they planning?
That mask belongs to a cult. The recognition hit him like a cold slap. Erion tensed, waiting for the man to enter the room—but the masked figure did something completely unexpected. Instead, he knocked on the door before them.
Bloody hell, don't open it! Erion's mind raced. Dumbfounded, he found himself frozen, his hand hovering over the door, torn between opening it and doing nothing. He could almost feel the weight of the man's death on the other side.
If I open this... we might all get killed. The situation was unraveling. Why was this happening? Who were they really after?
They were luring them out, using the masked man as bait for a hostage. But they didn't know Erion's position. They didn't know he could see everything.He wasn't just a soldier. He was under the law, and that meant they had no idea who they were truly dealing with.
Just what are they planning?
The door opened, and a man in a business suit stepped forward—only to be yanked away in an instant.
There was no sound from the monitor, but the screams from outside were painfully clear. The masked man, easily seven feet tall, held a dagger to the businessman's throat, one arm locking his head in place. Erion immediately recognized the weapon—the Akedah Dagger. A chill ran down his spine as a grim realization began to form.
Then the masked man began to walk toward their door.
He's going to kill him in front of us, Erion thought, his jaw tightening. To make us fear, to make us follow their orders. It was a psychological move—take one life to control the others.
"Killing innocent people… how low can you go?" Erion hissed, disgust lacing his voice.
His grip on his gun tightened, the metal cold under his fingers. On the monitor, the masked figure stood just outside the door. Only inches separated them, and yet, the tension felt like it could snap at any moment.
The man didn't move.
Erion's blue eyes narrowed, flames of fury burning in them.
The masked man raised his hand, just about to press the doorbell.
No time for that. Without a second thought, Erion threw the door open, aimed directly at the masked man's face, and fired.
How kind of you to ring the doorbell, Erion thought, a cold smirk flickering in his mind. The move was reckless—dangerously so—but he knew his own skill. And he knew they wouldn't expect him to strike at point-blank range.
In an instant, the masked man's hand fell, the dagger dropping from his grip as his body collapsed, lifeless.
The man in the business suit, trembling, gasped out a soft, "Thank you…"
He glanced at Erion, and a shudder passed through him. The terror that had once been directed at the masked man now clung to Erion, whose cold, calculating presence was far more unsettling.
Erion lowered his gun without a flicker of emotion. "Go back inside. Lock the door," he ordered, his voice flat.
The man scrambled back to his unit, barely able to hold himself together, fear still evident in his every shaky step.
Erion turned to scan both sides of the corridor, but there was no sign of movement. The footsteps had faded. He crouched and picked up the dagger the masked man had dropped.
A replica of the Akedah dagger, commonly used in ritual sacrifices.
Then, a loud bang rang out behind him. In an instant, his reflexes kicked in. Without thinking, he swung the gun toward the sound—only to realize it was coming from inside the room.
And then everything froze.
The wind howled through the window, sending the air still as time seemed to stretch.
He was pointing the gun at her now.
His eyes burned like those of a berserker, wild and fierce. Evah couldn't help but tremble, the fear coursing through her.
Standing just three meters away, she was caught in his gaze, her own trembling as she looked at him with the gun aimed directly at her.
After a few agonizing seconds, Erion lowered his weapon. "Sorry, I thought—" His voice softened, the intense fury in his eyes replaced by concern. It was as if he had snapped back into himself, his anger fading in an instant.
Just like before, Evah thought.
"Why did you go out? I told you to stay down!" His voice, though sharp, carried both anxiety and anger. Realization hit him—he knew. She saw everything.
"I… I'm sorry." She stammered, her fear evident in the way her voice shook.
Erion took a step toward her, but as his foot moved, she flinched back. His heart tightened at the sight, and for a moment, he regretted everything. Great, I'm a monster now.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words were cut off by the sound of glass shattering into the air, frozen in slow motion in his mind.
It was the window behind her—two more masked figures crashing through it.
In an instant, Erion sprang into action, moving faster than she could react. He shoved her out of the way, sending her tumbling onto the bed as he shielded her from the danger.
Erion drew his gun and fired—headshot. The first man crumpled to the floor, his body collapsing like a ragdoll, lifeless. But before the body even hit the ground, the second man surged forward, leaping at Erion with a dagger aimed straight for his neck.
In a blur of motion, Erion reacted, his arm snapping up to meet the attack. He blocked the dagger with the one he'd taken from the first masked man, steel clashing with steel in a violent spark. The force behind the blow rattled his bones, but he didn't flinch.
"Evah, don't look," he commanded, his voice low, but sharp.
The man pressed hard, his strength pushing the dagger closer to Erion's throat. But Erion wasn't giving an inch. With a sudden shove, he pushed the man back, their daggers locked for a moment as they struggled for control. The masked figure leapt back, narrowly avoiding Erion's return strike.
Erion's eyes flicked to Evah, just for a fraction of a second. His concentration faltered. Focus!
The second man moved like lightning, dodging Erion's gunfire with a twisted grin. Each shot missed, whizzing past him as if he were dancing around the bullets. Erion's teeth ground together. Stop showing off. This is no circus.
With a snarl, Erion closed the distance, his movements sharp and decisive. He shifted just a step to the left, anticipating the masked man's next move. In a single fluid motion, Erion was upon him.
Before she could even comprehend what happened, the masked man was on the ground, two daggers buried deep in his chest. Evah's eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. The speed of it was unreal—her mind couldn't even track the movement. One moment, he was standing, and the next, the man was lying in a pool of his own blood.
She instinctively covered her mouth, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. Her eyes fixed on the crimson that poured from the man's chest, spilling slowly onto the floor beneath him. The blood pooled in dark, thick drops, staining the wooden floor with each drip, the room still and heavy with the aftermath.
Evah remained frozen, Erion stepped into her line of sight, his presence blocking the gruesome view.
"Don't look at it," he muttered, his voice rough.
She blinked up at him, dazed. "I told you to shut your eyes," he added, his tone softer now—almost sad. His eyes, once fierce with anger, now held an empathetic sadness she wasn't used to seeing.
"We have to go now," he continued, his voice firm yet strained. You didn't have to see that.
A grim thought flashed through his mind—there was a corpse in the hallway, another at the door. He couldn't let her pass them.
Without another word, Erion grabbed her by the left hand, his grip strong but gentle. "Don't stare at anything. There's another one left. If we're lucky, we can get away without encountering it."
She didn't respond. Her gaze was fixed on him, her expression distant as if the gravity of everything was still sinking in.
Erion started running, pulling her along as they dodged the body blocking the front door. She did her best to keep her eyes averted, focusing solely on her footsteps.
This is... I can't… Her heart pounded as she tried to keep up with Erion, her mind still reeling.
As they passed the elevator, she stumbled, her voice coming out in a weak suggestion. "We can use the elevator."
But the words felt hollow even as she spoke them—her mind couldn't process anything at this point. Did I almost get killed? What if I was alone?
Erion didn't slow down. "If you want to get killed before or after it opens," he replied dryly, his pace never faltering. He turned the corner and found a slope leading down to the lower levels.
We need to get out of here, he thought grimly, the weight of their situation sinking in.
Why is she always in trouble? Not only that, she always messes up my plans.
She didn't speak, but her mind raced as she followed Erion down the stairs, her footsteps pounding against the concrete.
If Erion isn't here, I'll be captured—or worse, dead.
A chilling thought struck her: What if I wasn't part of the Order? What if Erion didn't know me?
The image of the lifeless bodies flashed in her mind again, impossible to shake. It won't stop. It won't stop.
Fear closed in on her, tightening around her like a suffocating darkness. What if this is all happening because I've been part of the Order?
She couldn't escape the thought that gnawed at her—so many people hate the Organization because of its corruption…
What if I'm just another pawn in a system that doesn't care about me?
Her gaze flickered to Erion, his back to her as he led the way down the stairs, his expression hard focused but concern. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest.
Can I really trust you?