The sirens grow louder, the sound drawing closer, but in the chaos of the room, it feels like they're a world away. I barely hear them now, not over the pounding of my heart, not over the way my hands shake from the adrenaline rushing through me. The woman's eyes lock onto mine, her gaze burning with fury.
"You think the police will save you?" she sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. "You think they'll stop what's coming? They're too late. This has already begun."
Her words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding. I can feel the weight of them pressing down on me, making my chest tighten. What's coming? What does she mean?
I glance at Vance, who's still struggling with Jaxon on the floor. I don't know what's happening between them anymore—who's winning or losing, who's even on whose side. It's all a blur, their bodies twisting and shifting, fighting for control, fighting for something I don't fully understand.
The woman steps closer, her movements slow, deliberate. She's calm, almost too calm for someone caught in a situation like this. As though she's already won.
"I gave you a chance, Amara," she says softly. "But now... now you're in this until the end. And there's no escaping it."
She raises her hand, and for a moment, I think she's going to strike. But instead, she pulls out a phone, tapping the screen with a calm, practiced motion. My pulse quickens. What is she doing?
I don't have time to stop her. My thoughts are a whirlwind, too many questions, too many fears flooding my mind all at once.
"Vance!" I shout, but my voice feels weak, useless. It's as if the air itself has thickened, pressing against me, making it harder to speak, harder to think.
The woman's phone buzzes, and she glances down at it with a look of satisfaction. Her lips curl into a smirk. "They're on their way," she says, as if she's just told me the most obvious thing in the world.
Who's on their way?
Before I can ask, she steps closer, the knife still in her hand, her gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine. She raises it slightly, and I freeze, not sure whether she's going to strike or simply watch me fall apart.
Vance finally pushes Jaxon off him, breathing heavily, his face bruised but determined. He scrambles to his feet, his eyes scanning the room, then locking on the woman.
"You're going to regret this," Vance growls, taking a step toward her.
"Am I?" The woman laughs, and the sound is sharp, cold. "You really think you can stop me? You don't even know who I am."
I blink, the fog in my mind clearing for a split second. There's something in her voice, something familiar, and I can't quite place it. Who is she? Who does she think she is?
But before I can voice my thoughts, Jaxon stands, his movements surprisingly quick for someone who was just on the ground. His eyes land on me, and for a moment, everything else disappears. It's just him and me in that split second.
His expression is unreadable. Cold. But there's something more to it. A flicker of... regret? Or maybe guilt?
"What do you want, Jaxon?" I find myself asking, before I can stop myself. I'm not sure why I even care, why I'm still looking for answers when everything's falling apart around me.
He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he turns his gaze toward the woman, his jaw clenched. "We don't have time for this," he says, his voice tight with urgency. "You know what's coming."
The woman's lips curl into a sneer. "Don't talk to me about time," she snaps. "It's already in motion. The pieces are already set."
I don't understand what she means. My mind is spinning, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. But I can't. I can't make sense of any of this.
Vance steps forward, his posture protective, his hand reaching for something at his waist. I don't know if it's a weapon or if he's trying to get a grip on the situation, but whatever it is, he's determined.
"Stay back, Amara," he warns. "Let me handle this."
But before I can process his words, the sound of another set of footsteps echoes in the hallway, louder than the sirens, louder than anything else. I tense, my body going rigid as I turn toward the door.
Someone's coming. But it's not the police.
It's something worse.
The door bursts open, and a man strides into the room. His features are sharp, his face a mask of authority, but there's something unsettling about him. He's dressed in dark, expensive clothing, his movements precise. The air grows heavier with his presence, as if the room itself acknowledges him.
"You're too late, Elias," the woman says, her voice tense but with a hint of respect.
Elias?
My heart skips a beat. I've heard that name before. A distant memory—someone from my past. But I can't place it. I can't make the connection.
"I'm never too late," Elias replies, his voice low, almost soothing in its calmness. "You just didn't expect me to come back so soon."
The room falls silent. The tension is thick, palpable, and I can barely breathe as I watch them.
"You..." The woman's voice cracks, a note of panic creeping into her tone. "You should have stayed away."
"I've been following you for a long time," Elias says, his eyes briefly flicking to me before turning back to the woman. "But now? Now you've gone too far."
The woman glares at him, her hand still clenched around the knife. "You don't understand. This isn't just about you anymore."
I'm on the edge of my seat, unable to move, unable to think.
"What is this about?" I finally whisper, my voice trembling. "What's going on?"
Elias turns his attention to me, his gaze sharp and calculating. "You're in the middle of something much bigger than you realize, Amara. You've always been a part of this—whether you knew it or not."
The words hit me like a punch, and I don't know what to say, what to feel. I'm drowning in confusion, and it's all I can do to stay afloat.
And then, just as the tension reaches its peak, I hear it. The sound of a clock ticking.
Tick. Tock.
And in that moment, I realize something terrifying: Time is running out.