The man came at them like a bullet—fast, precise, deadly.
"Down!" he barked.
Amaka didn't think. She dropped instantly, her knees slamming against the hard ground as pain shot up her legs. Something sliced through the air above her—a blur of metal catching faint light—then impact. A sharp grunt tore from her "friend" as he intercepted the attack.
By the time she looked up, they were already moving.
Too fast.
A strike—blocked. A counter—dodged. Another hit—landed.
This wasn't a normal fight. It was controlled. Trained. Dangerous.
Amaka pushed herself backward, her palms scraping against the rough concrete. Her ankle screamed in protest, but she forced herself to keep moving, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
Another figure stepped into view.
The second man.
Circling her slowly.
Cutting off her escape.
"No…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her body tried to move—but fear locked her in place.
"Stay BACK!" her protector shouted, driving his elbow hard into the first man's ribs. The man staggered slightly—then straightened like it barely mattered.
A chill ran down her spine.
These people weren't normal.
Not even close.
The second man lunged straight for her.
Time slowed.
Her heart slammed violently against her chest. Her vision blurred at the edges. Her body refused to respond.
But before the man could reach her, a force slammed into him from the side.
Her protector.
Again.
"Run!" he shouted.
"I can't leave you!" she cried.
"YOU HAVE TO!"
Their eyes locked for a brief second, but it felt longer—heavy, intense.
And in that moment, she saw it.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
And something else—something deeper, something he still wasn't telling her.
That was all it took.
Amaka turned and ran.
Her ankle nearly gave out on the first step, but adrenaline forced her forward. Every movement burned, every breath tore through her chest, but she didn't stop.
Behind her, the sounds of the fight grew louder—faster, more violent. A heavy thud. A grunt. Another hit.
Then—
Nothing.
Silence.
Too sudden. Too complete.
Her steps faltered. Her heart dropped.
"No…" she whispered.
She slowed slightly, just enough to listen.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No struggle. No voice.
That silence felt wrong—worse than the noise.
A hand grabbed her.
Amaka screamed, but the sound was cut off as a palm clamped tightly over her mouth.
"Shhh."
Her body went rigid. Her eyes widened in terror.
A voice, low and calm, spoke right beside her ear.
"Don't turn around."
Her heart pounded painfully against her chest.
"Walk," the voice whispered. "Slowly."
Tears filled her eyes as her legs trembled beneath her, but she obeyed. Each step felt unreal, like she wasn't in control of her own body anymore.
"Who are you…?" she whispered against the hand.
A brief pause.
Then, "You really don't remember… do you?"
Her breath caught.
Remember what?
The grip on her tightened slightly—not painful, but firm. Controlled.
"That's going to make this much harder."
Her stomach twisted.
"What do you mean… remember?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"You weren't chosen by accident, Amaka."
Her vision blurred.
"You were born into this."
Her legs nearly gave out.
"No…"
The voice leaned closer.
"They've been waiting for you to wake up."
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
"And tonight—"
Footsteps.
Distant at first. Then closer.
More than one.
The voice clicked his tongue softly.
"Too soon."
Then he let go.
Just like that.
Amaka spun around, her heart racing, her eyes searching desperately.
No one.
Nothing.
He was gone.
Like he had never been there.
Her breathing turned erratic as her mind spiraled.
Born into this? Wake up?
What did that even mean?
Then—
A voice.
Weak. Strained. Familiar.
"Amaka…"
Her head snapped toward the sound.
Relief hit her instantly.
Her protector.
Across the street.
On one knee.
Bleeding.
"You're alive—" she started, her voice shaking as she moved toward him.
Then she saw them.
Behind him.
Stepping out slowly from the shadows.
One. Two. Three.
More.
They weren't rushing this time.
They walked.
Slow. Confident. Patient.
Like they already knew there was nowhere left to run.
Amaka stopped.
Her body went cold.
Her breath hitched.
They had them surrounded.
Her protector tried to stand, but failed, dropping slightly as his breathing grew heavier.
"Stay… back…" he muttered weakly.
Amaka's hands trembled at her sides. Her mind raced for a way out—but there was none.
A slow clap broke the silence.
"Impressive," one of the men said, stepping forward.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"End of the road."
Amaka's throat went dry.
Beside her, her protector shifted, positioning himself between her and them—even now.
"Stay close," he whispered.
Her voice shook. "What are you going to do…?"
He didn't answer.
But she saw it.
In his stance.
In his eyes.
He wasn't planning to run anymore.
The man stepped closer, his gaze locking onto Amaka.
Sharp. Knowing.
"You've caused enough trouble," he said.
"I don't even know what I did…" she whispered.
A pause.
Then a cold smile.
"That's exactly the problem."
Her breath stopped.
And in that moment, as they closed in—slow, certain, unstoppable—Amaka realized something terrifying.
This wasn't just about escape anymore.
This was a hunt.
And she—
Was the target.