Stephen's heart raced, putting Yuna one step at a time toward the terminal. Every step seemed to reverberate in his brain, reminding him of the decision he had just made. A war waged in his mind-half of it screaming to turn back and join her, while the other half begged him to walk away-to finally let go of this living nightmare he was dragging her through.Yuna turned once to him-her big, innocent eyes were wide with trust. Stephen forced a smile and gave her a little wave. He fought the tightness in his chest-he was terrified, could not let her see this, not now, not when all was at stake.She hesitated in the entrance, as if expecting him to change his mind. For one tense moment, Stephen almost snapped. But he knew this was the only way to keep her safe. If Clarke catches up with him now, then Yuna will be in a worse danger than ever. This is the last gift he can give her: a chance at life free from the chaos that's consumed his own."Go on, Yuna," he muttered under his breath, alm
"Stephen," Charles yelled in a hollow voice into the empty space. "I know you're here. Come on out. Let's end this peacefully."Stephen remained hidden as his mind dragged him into a frenzy. He couldn't believe that he had actually trusted Charles, even for a moment. Now, his only option was to think fast, find a way out before Clarke's men cornered him."Search the place," Clarke barked, a cold tone to his words as if shot from a stutter gun. His team spread out, ready for action, weapons out and loud shoes beating against the concrete.The pulse in Stephen's throat quickened. He had to do something now. If they found him, it was all over. He cursed himself inwardly at the lack of forethought, at letting his guard down. He scanned the factory for any signs of something that would give him an escape. The factory was like a maze, filled with old machinery and stacks of crates since time immemorial, but there were few alternative doors. And certainly not the main door—it was always unde
Charles wheeled himself closer to Stephen, his eyes never leaving his. The dim lighting of the factory cast long shadows across his face, his smile more sinister."You know, Stephen," Charles started, his voice soft yet reeking with a chilling edge, "I really did want to help you. But you simply could not refrain from the urge to betray me. To run off to another country without a word? Really not how you treat a friend.Stephen chuckled and slightly shook his head. "That's the real reason, Charles? Because I was leaving? You and I know differently.Charles joined in the chuckle, a low menacing sound. "Well, you got me there. It wasn't just about you leaving. You've always been in my shadow, but lately… you started stealing my limelight. I've always been top dog, Stephen. I wasn't about to let you take that from me."Stephen's face darkened as the pieces fell into place. "Victor? He was just a by-product of this petty game you are running?"Charles eased himself back into his wheelchai
Victor burst into his apartment, irritation evident in his stride. He went directly to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. A view of a swollen nose, still bruised from Stephen's punch, accommodated his building anger even more. He slapped a fresh bandage over it, grimacing as he did so. The doctor had said his nose bone was shifted, and Victor was already fantasizing about the day when he would get revenge on Stephen and double over in pain for this.As he finished with the bandage, Charles rolled in; his wheelchair let out a slight squeak on the tiled floor. "What happened to you?" Charles asked casual yet with a hint of curiosity.Victor shot him a hard glance through the mirror. "None of your business."Charles's brow furrowed slightly. "I take it you didn't catch Stephen then?""No," Victor snapped, frustration evident in his tone. "He managed to get away."Charles leaned back in his chair, a false look of surprise crossing his face. "Stephen escaped? Surprising. I'd ha
Victor and Charles stared at each other a moment longer, the air heavy with menace. With his eyes narrowing, Charles wheeled closer, darting from Victor unto the cell phone held in his hand. He noticed Victor stood rigidly and the slight facial twitch.Charles reached out and calmly took the phone from Victor's hand, never breaking eye contact. He glanced down at the screen to see it was a message from Clarke, attached to which was a picture of a battered Stephen."See anything?" Charles asked, his voice low and casual, deceptively so.Victor hesitated, then slowly stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets to mask any anxiety. "I didn’t see anything important," he lied smoothly. "Just needed some air. I’ll be back later."Charles nodded, his suspicion never quite leaving his eyes. "Al歲ght," he said, watching Victor closely as he walked out of the room.The moment Victor was out of the room, Charles had his face on the phone again; thoughts ran riot in his head. Stupid of Clarke to
Back to the dining room, Enoch was getting more and more uneasy. "What is taking Marriane so long?" he thought and said to himself, looking across at Ariane, who was looking as uninterested as before.Suddenly Ariane spoke. "I heard my mom used to date your younger brother." Her voice showed no apparent interest, while her eyes did tell a different story altogether.Enoch stiffened in surprise. He reached hastily for his goblet of wine, draining a small amount into his mouth for time. This child knew too much already, and directness in her questions unsettled him."Well." Enoch fumbled for words, until Ariane cut him short."Are you trying to avoid saying anything about it?" her voice issued sharply.Enoch forced a smile, his gut starting to feel the edge of the knife inside. This kid was unstoppable. "I think I've had enough wine," he said, putting the glass down. "Where's the toilet?"Ariane pointed down the hall, her face unreadable. Enoch nodded, getting up a little too quickly, u
Stephen's body ached, chains eating into his wrists as he just basically swung in mid-air, helpless. It was all the more worse with the chill of cold, damp air from the underground chamber, sending chills down to his bones. He looked up weakly; his vision was blurred, but he could make out the silhouette of Clarke in the poor light. Clarke was sharpening a knife; the scratching sound of metal against stone echoed in the room."Do you know why they didn't just make him a prison warden?" Clarke asked, the tone low, sinister. He continued sharpening the blade while speaking. Stephen said nothing. He was too weak and too weary. He knew that Clarke wasn't really expecting an answer.Clarke paused, eyeing the edge of the knife before continuing. "He had everything, Stephen. Money, power. But he gave it all to Charles, who the world sees as some bigshot billionaire. And what did he choose for himself? This." Clarke gestured around the dank, dark space. "A warden, someone who oversees the scu
Victor lay under his old, beat-up car and tightened the oil pan screws. The air was thick with grease and gasoline; the garage was only half-lit, which stretched the shadows across its walls. He wiped off his brow with his hand's back and grunted as he reached for the next tool.Before he could get to it, a hand reached it over to him. Victor slid out from under the car in surprise to see Charles seated in his wheelchair and holding the wrench. "You're back," Victor stated neutrally as he accepted the tool.Charles nodded and watched as Victor slipped under the vehicle to continue with his work. Through the silence, metal scraped against metal before Charles wheeled himself closer."I know you know about Stephen," Charles said, his voice low.Victor hesitated for a fraction of a second, then went back to tightening the bolt. "Is that so?"Charles' eyes narrowed. "Don't try to fool me. I'm not an idiot.Victor rolled out from under the car again, this time with his hands smeared with