Tyrone’s night had started like every other. He sat on the edge of his worn calfskin sofa, his eyes half-closed as the relieving murmur of a late-night jazz station filled the living room. The smooth notes of the saxophone floated through the air, blending with the fragrance of the coffee he’d brewed just minutes before. His wife, was out with friends for a little gathering. Tyrone hadn’t disapproved of staying home; in reality, he needed these calm minutes. Little did he know that the peace of the evening was about to be smashed. As he held his mug, the phone on the coffee table buzzed noisily, disturbing the tranquility of the room. Tyrone scowled, picking it up to check the caller ID. The number was new, but something around it made his heart skip a beat. He delayed for a moment some time recently replying. “Hello?” Tyrone’s profound voice carried an aura of caution. There was quiet on the other end of the line, as if it was a black out sound of breathing. Just as he was about to

Tyrone paced back and forward in his faintly lit living room, the pressure within the air thick sufficient to cut. The expensive, mahogany coffee table was secured with maps, scratch pad, and folded papers with quickly written notes—remnants of an unhinged, restless three days. His mind dashed with conceivable outcomes, each one darker than the final. Three days had passed since his spouse had been captured, and each hour felt like a lifetime. Matthew sat over from him on the couch, his eyes checking over a list of contacts on his phone. Matthew, the more explanatory of the two, was the one who kept Tyrone in check. But indeed Matthew was starting to feel the weight of the circumstance squeezing down on him. "We're running out of time," Tyrone murmured, his voice rough from fatigue. "We got to do something, Matt. We can't just sit here waiting for a supernatural occurrence." Matthew looked up, his usually calm blue eyes clouded with concern. "I know, Ty. But we need to be savvy abou

The city was washed within the passing on light of the late evening, casting long shadows that appeared to increase with the pressure brewing between Tyrone and Matthew. The two men stood on the edge of a rough driveway, their voices rising over the far off murmur of activity. It had been hours since Damon had sent the message, and with each passing second, the stakes felt higher. "You can't truly be thinking about going alone, Ty!" Matthew’s voice was a mix of dissatisfaction and fear, his eyes wide with disbelief as he paced within the contract driveway. The smell of gasoline and decaying waste filled the air, making the discussion all the more choking. "This is precisely what he needs. Damon knows you're frantic. That’s why he’s doing this, why he sent you that message. He’s trying to corner you." Tyrone’s expression was one of strained resolve. His hands were tightened into clench hands. He gazed at the broken asphalt, avoiding Matthew’s look, knowing deep down that his friend w

Tyrone's breath came in shallow as he tried to keep his vision in a faintly lit passage. The cold, stone dividers squeezed in on him, and the harsh haziness appeared to swallow him entire. His heart beat in his chest like a war drum, resounding within the hush. He had misplaced it all—he seemed to feel it.He had gone through the last 48 hours in a state of edginess, after investing days looking for her after she was kidnapped in the dead of night. The police were never in question,due to the dangers laid down by Damon before. But Tyrone had refused to give up, and his persistent interest had at last brought him here, to this deserted warehouse at the outskirts of the city. As he looked as his spouse who was sleeping with her face battered and her dress torn with her body looking rough handled. He seemed to listen to low voices from inside, one of them unmistakably Damon’s. He sounded brutal, firm and voice full of dread. Tyrone tightened his clench hands, anger surging through him l

The night discuss was thick and chilly, its coolness doing little to soothe the choking pressure that held Tyrone and his spouse. Their breaths came in shallow, frozen wheezes, the cold moist of fear clinging to their skin like a moment layer. The rough earth street extended unendingly ahead, gulped by the darkness on both sides, the only source of light coming from the dim shine of the moon that looked through holes within the clouds. They had been running for what felt like hours, the adrenaline in their veins was their fuel. Behind them, the unmissable, but unmistakable yells of Matthew and Damon echoed through the forest, a consistent reminder that the dangers were still exceptionally much in sight. "Keep moving," Tyrone encouraged, his voice low but firm, looking over his shoulder each few steps. His grasp on her hand was tight, nearly agonizing, as if he letting go would mean losing her to the void behind them. “I’m trying,” she wheezed, her breath coming out in worn out sequ