Ayla's heart raced in her chest, each beat seeming louder than the last. She looked down at Silas, who was now slumped against the cold, damp floor. His chest rose and fell weakly, but it was clear he was fading fast. Her hands trembled as she fumbled through his pockets, searching for something, anything that might help. Blood stained his shirt, his skin pale and clammy.
"Come on, Silas… stay with me," she muttered, voice shaky. She pressed her palm to his forehead, feeling the heat of his fever. Her mind was clouded with panic, but she pushed it down, focusing on the immediate task at hand.
She didn't know how much time they had. She didn't even know if he would wake up.
She could hear the sound of distant sirens, growing louder by the second. They didn't have much time. If Mr. Wellington's men were after him, they were already closing in.
Ayla's breath quickened as she looked around, her mind racing. She couldn't take him to a hospital—not with the danger looming. That left her with only one option: she needed to get him to a safe place, fast.
She stood up, her legs unsteady as she pulled Silas into her arms. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored the pain, lifting him with determination. "Come on, Silas. We're getting out of here."
The safehouse was a cramped, abandoned building on the outskirts of town. Its walls were cracked, the windows boarded up, but it would do for now. Ayla managed to drag Silas inside, collapsing onto the dusty floor as she set him down. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her arms sore from the effort.
She knelt beside him, checking his pulse again. It was weak, but still there. She let out a sigh of relief, though she knew it was far from over.
Her eyes lingered on Silas's face—his rugged features, the slight furrow in his brow, the faint stubble. There was something about him that kept pulling her in, something about his vulnerability in this moment that made her care for him even more than she wanted to admit.
"I'm not letting you die, Silas," she whispered to him, more to reassure herself than anything.
Her mind flickered to the danger outside. They couldn't stay here long. They needed to move again, but where? The only people who could help now were the ones who knew Silas best—his allies. She needed to contact them, but who could she trust?
Then, she remembered. She grabbed Silas's phone, the device slipping from his pocket. She unlocked it, her fingers trembling. Her eyes scanned the screen, searching for someone who could help. That's when she saw the name.
Zayn Melikov.
Her stomach tightened. She didn't know who he was, but if Silas trusted him, she had no choice but to try.
Back in his lavish office, Mr. Wellington sat behind his massive desk, staring out the large window that overlooked the city. The dim light from the setting sun cast long shadows across the room, but it did nothing to soften the coldness of his demeanor. His mind was on the task at hand—finding Silas.
His associate, a sharp-eyed man with a military build, stood across from him, waiting for orders.
"Wellington," the man said, "we've tracked Silas's last known location. He won't get far. We'll have him soon."
Wellington's fingers tapped the armrest of his chair in a slow, rhythmic pattern. He didn't look at his associate, his thoughts far from the man standing before him. His gaze was fixed on the skyline, the world outside looking so peaceful, so unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash.
"You've underestimated him," Wellington said softly, his voice chilling. "Silas is more resourceful than you realize. He's dangerous—especially now that he knows too much."
He stood up, walking to the window and staring out, his expression unreadable. "I want him alive. But Ayla… she's a liability now. If she's with him, she'll be dealt with accordingly."
The associate nodded, his face tight with tension. "Understood. We'll handle it, sir."
Wellington's lips curled into a cold smile. "Good. I'll make sure she regrets getting involved."
Ayla's fingers hovered over the screen of Silas's phone as she scrolled through the contact list. Her mind was racing. Who could help her now? She couldn't do this alone—not with Silas in this condition.
She hesitated for a moment, then pressed the call button.
The phone rang once… twice… and then, to her relief, someone picked up.
"Who is this?" The voice on the other end was deep, calm, but there was an edge to it. Ayla's heart skipped a beat.
"I'm… I'm a friend of Silas," she said, her voice shaky. "He's hurt. I need help."
There was a long pause on the other end, and Ayla held her breath.
"Where are you?" the voice asked, suddenly more urgent. "Stay where you are. I'll be there soon."
Ayla didn't ask who he was or how he knew Silas. All that mattered was that he was coming.
Ayla knelt by Silas again, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. His breathing was shallow, but steady. She felt a swell of emotion in her chest, something she didn't know how to name. She had only just met him, yet in this moment, she felt more connected to him than anyone else.
Her fingers lingered on his skin, tracing the lines of his jaw as if memorizing every detail. Without thinking, she leaned forward, her lips pressing softly to his lips. It was a gentle, fleeting kiss—one of desperation, of hope, of something she couldn't fully understand.
"I'm here," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I won't leave you."
Zayn Malikov arrived just as Ayla was starting to lose hope. She had done everything she could, but Silas's condition hadn't improved. Her hands shook as she checked his pulse again, the weight of the situation threatening to crush her.
Then, she heard footsteps—quick and purposeful—outside the door. She stood up, her heart racing, and the door swung open to reveal Zayn.
He was tall, his face rugged and serious. His eyes immediately went to Silas, and without saying a word, he crossed the room in a few long strides.
"Where is he?" Zayn asked, his voice firm.
Ayla stepped aside, letting him see Silas. "He's… he's barely hanging on. I don't know what to do."
Zayn knelt beside Silas, his hands moving quickly and efficiently as he checked Silas's vitals. "You did well keeping him alive," Zayn said, glancing up at Ayla. "But we need to move fast. He's not out of the woods yet."
Ayla felt a sense of relief wash over her as Zayn took control of the situation. She had no idea who he was, but there was no denying his competence.
"We can't stay here," Zayn continued. "Wellington's men will be looking for him. We need to get him somewhere safe, now."
Ayla nodded, her mind already racing with what needed to be done next. "What do we do?"
"We move," Zayn said, his voice steely. "And we don't stop until he's safe."