The sky was bleeding into twilight, the dying sun surrendering to night. A dim bulb swung overhead, its weak light stuttering as if it could be snuffed out at any moment. Long shadows clawed across the walls, and the corners Yuka faced seemed to dissolve into a bottomless black.
Evah slept soundly against the pole, her breathing calm—far too calm for the nightmare surrounding her. A sharp kick to her feet tore her from that fragile peace.
"What the—?!" she blurted, jerking awake.
What a gentleman!
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Erion muttered, his voice a blade cutting through the stillness.
Before Evah could complain further, the sound of metal clanking filled the silence. The knob of the warehouse door turned.
The man who had tied her up returned with something glinting in his hand.
"Stay vigilant," Erion whispered, eyes never leaving the figure.
His cuffs were already undone. He had only been pretending.
The intruder's steps echoed; slow, deliberate. With every pace, Evah's chest tightened. Then she saw it.
Her blood froze.
The same gun, the one that had been pressed against Erion's skull not long ago.
He's here… to finish it.
Her eyes locked onto Erion's, signaling. She didn't need to speak—the plea was written all over her face. Do something!
Erion's hand twitched, pressing something against the back of his jacket. The signal device.
The man slipped the gun back into his pocket. Instead, he drew out a small bag. Inside gleamed a syringe.
The syringe cap snapped off with a practiced twist. His gaze fell on Evah.
What's that?! Her eyes widen in fear, she doesn't need to know what that is. Her body screams its trouble.
The first one was a whisper "No!" then;
"No!" she cried, struggling against her ropes until they cut into her skin. Panic roared through her veins. I'm going to die here…
The rustle of the object on her way was deafening.
"Hey, maybe test it on me first?" Erion's voice was strangely casual, almost mocking.
Evah's jaw dropped. Is he insane?! If it kills him, what happens to us?!
The brute ignored him, advancing.
If Erion fell, they'd be next. This dark, musty warehouse—heavy with the sour tang of gasoline and old dirt—could be her last resting place.
Her senses snapped to life. She heard her breath hammering in her ears, each inhale loud and ragged. The coarse floor bit into her palms and calves; every grain of grit pressed into her skin like a tiny accusation. Time stretched thin—each movement the man made was a slow, dangerous film played just for her.
He grabbed Evah's arm with crushing strength. Her breath hitched as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, jerking back desperately.
The syringe rose.
Then—
A blur.
Erion surged to his feet. The man's gaze snapped toward him, but too late—Erion's kick lashed out, sending the syringe spinning through the air. For a fraction of a second, the thug's eyes followed it. That was all Erion needed.
He seized the man's arm and twisted sharply, his movements fast and precise, like a blade cutting through the air. In the next breath, Erion slipped behind him, back pressed to the man's chest. A brutal tug—then he slammed the larger body down with bone-rattling force.
The ground shook.
By the time Evah opened her eyes, Erion's silver pistol was already drawn, silencer clicking into place.
"Don't look!" His command was sharp.
The muffled cough of the silenced gun cut through the warehouse.
Evah flinched. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might tear through her chest.
Did he—kill him?
Are we safe now?
Evah's heart thundered, each beat slamming against her ribs. Her breaths came quick and shallow, the sound of blood rushing in her ears drowning out everything else. The adrenaline refused to fade, clinging to her body like ice.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the entire warehouse was holding its breath.
Evah's eyelids trembled. Curiosity clawed at her. She wanted—no, needed—to see what had just happened.
Did he… have a gun this whole time?
Before she could open her eyes, Erion's voice cut through the dark. "Don't. Keep them shut. You don't want to see."
His tone was different now—still firm, but gentler, threaded with something close to reassurance.
The sound of his boots approached, steady and unhurried, until she felt him at her side. Metal scraped against rope as his hands worked quickly, and at last the bonds fell away
Evah forced her eyes shut, though the urge to peek clawed at her with every passing second. Just trust him.
She wanted to know, to see the truth of what had happened—but something in Erion's voice rooted her in place. It carried a weight, not just command, but a warning. For now, it was safer not to look.
Her wrists throbbed where the ropes had been, the sudden freedom almost foreign. She stayed seated on the cold floor, her palms pressed against the dirt as if anchoring herself. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, yet the tension refused to break.
Then—
The faintest shift in the air prickled down her spine. Footsteps. Movement in the shadows. Someone was coming.
Something told her that opening her eyes now would scar her forever.