The gunshot ripped the air apart.
For a split second, everything went silent—like the world forgot how to breathe.
The darkness swallowed me whole.My scream froze in my throat.
"Jacob!" I gasped into the cold, black hallway.
No answer.
My chest tightened painfully.
I reached out blindly, fingers shaking, searching for him—"Jacob, please—say something—anything—"
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I almost screamed—until the grip tightened in a way I knew.Warm, shaking, desperate.
Jacob.
"I'm here," he breathed against the darkness.
I choked on a sob of pure relief. "Are you—are you shot?"
"No," he whispered, voice ragged. "Not me."
My breath caught.
Not him?
Then who—?
A metallic clatter echoed ahead of us. Damian's silhouette staggered into the faint emergency light coming on overhead, clutching his arm. A line of crimson dripped between his fingers.
Someone had shot him.
But who—
Bootsteps thundered down the hallway behind us.
Jacob tensed, pulling me close behind him again even though he could barely stand.His hand slid toward the fallen pipe.
"Jacob—your injuries—"
"Don't care."
The emergency lights sputtered fully on.
And a figure stepped out of the smoke at the far end of the hall.
A woman.
Tall. Dark coat. Hair pulled back tight.Eyes that scanned everything like a battlefield.
Her gun was still raised.
Damian hissed through his teeth. "Of course. Of course it's you."
The woman didn't blink."Drop the weapon, Cross."
Jacob whispered under his breath, barely audible to me:
"…No. It can't be."
"Jacob?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
He didn't blink.
Because the woman in the hallway shifted her gaze from Damian…to him.
And something cracked in her expression.
"Jacob," she said softly.Not a warning.Not a threat.
Recognition.
My gaze snapped to him.
His expression wasn't fear.It wasn't relief.
It was something deeper.
Something old.
Something that hurt.
"Who is she?" I whispered.
Jacob swallowed hard, eyes never leaving the woman's face.
"My sister."
The hallway spun around me.
Damian laughed—sharp, cold, mocking.
"How touching," he sneered. "The prodigal son meets the loyal daughter. Though I suppose 'daughter' is generous, considering you raised her in my shadow."
The woman—Jacob's sister—ignored him completely.
She took a step forward.
"Jacob," she said again, voice trembling despite her calm mask. "You're hurt."
He exhaled sharply, a sound of disbelief, pain, nostalgia tangled together.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"To save you."
Damian snorted. "You? Save him? You shot me."
"Because I missed the first time," she replied coldly.
For the first time since I met him, Damian looked genuinely irritated.
He wiped blood from his arm, straightening to full height.
"I don't have time for family melodrama."
He reached inside his coat again.
Jacob's sister fired immediately.
Damian ducked behind the concrete pillar, the bullet scraping the wall inches beside him.
"Move!" she snapped toward us.
But Jacob didn't.
He pulled me behind him again, but his legs trembled. He was forcing himself to stay upright.
His sister stepped closer and her mask finally cracked—fear flashing across her eyes.
"You idiot," she whispered sharply. "You're losing blood fast."
Jacob only shook his head. "I'm not leaving Lily."
I felt my heart violently kick against my ribs.
The way he said it.The way he meant it.The way his sister noticed it.
Her gaze flicked to me.
For a terrifying second, I thought she'd reject me. Judge me. Push me away from him like I didn't belong in their nightmare.
But her expression softened—barely, but enough.
"You're the girl," she murmured.
"The one he risked everything for."
Heat flooded my face, my chest tightening in a way too confusing to process right now.
Another bullet cracked into the wall beside us.
Damian was moving again.
Jacob's sister raised her gun, shouting:
"He's retreating! Move—now!"
She grabbed Jacob's arm to help him walk—but he winced, pain ripping through him.
"Don't touch him like that," I snapped before I could stop myself.
Both of them froze.
Jacob blinked at me, a stunned laugh escaping under his breath despite the danger.
"You heard her," he murmured, voice thin. "Gentle."
His sister exhaled through her nose, annoyed but somehow… fond.
"I swear," she muttered, "even dying you're impossible."
Jacob started to argue—something stubborn, something protective—but his knees buckled.
I caught him under his arm immediately.
I didn't let him fall.
His sister moved on the other side, supporting his weight without hurting him this time.
Damian's voice echoed again from the shadows:
"You can't run forever, Jacob. You know how this ends."
Jacob lifted his head.
"No," he whispered. "This time I decide how it ends."
His sister looked at him, proud and furious all at once.
I tightened my grip around him.
The three of us began moving down the hallway—
toward the stairwell,toward escape,toward the next danger—
just as another shot exploded behind us.
The storm outside had grown louder, hammering against the windows as if trying to force its way in. The safe house felt smaller than ever, a dim hollow of peeling wallpaper and flickering light, but the fear inside it was larger—too large to breathe around.
I paced the room because sitting still felt like dying.
Jacob watched me from the couch, but there was something different in his stare—something sharper than worry. Something like calculation… and something like pain.
He didn't want me to see that part.
Which was exactly why I moved closer.
"Your shoulder," I said quietly. "Let me check it again."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
He exhaled, frustrated—not with me, but with himself. "I don't want you touching it."
My chest stung. "Why?"
"Because…" He paused, jaw tightening. "Because when you get close, I forget we're running for our lives."
I stopped breathing.
Jacob looked away, but not fast enough. I saw it—the crack in his armor. The tremble in his voice, so faint it barely existed. The fear that wasn't fear of bullets or enemies, but fear of something much more dangerous.
Me.
Or what he felt for me.
"Jacob…" I whispered.
But before I could reach him, he flinched—his body jolting, his hand flying to his shoulder.
Blood seeped through the bandage again.
I knelt in front of him immediately. "You're bleeding more."
"I said I'm fine."
"You're being stubborn."
"Stubborn is keeping you alive."
"Stubborn is letting yourself bleed out in front of me!"
His eyes snapped to mine. "I'm not dying tonight."
"You can't promise that."
"I can," he said, voice low, "because you're here."
The words hit me like a punch.
He tried to sit straighter, but the movement ripped a groan from him. I grabbed his shoulders to steady him without thinking.
His breath hitched.
So did mine.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"I know."
We stayed like that—breathing the same air, our faces inches apart. I didn't know how long. Time didn't exist in moments like this. Reality blurred. Danger pressed in from all sides, but the only thing I could focus on was him.
He lifted his hand slowly, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.
The touch was feather-light, hesitant, like he was afraid I'd break.
Or that he would.
"I don't want you to be scared of me," he whispered.
"I'm not scared of you."
"Yes, you are."
"No."
"Then what are you scared of?"
"You leaving," I said before I could stop myself. "Or dying. Or disappearing. Or pushing me away again."
His breath faltered.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if struggling with something inside him, and when he opened them again, they were raw—unprotected.
"I'm not pushing you away."His voice cracked."I'm trying to keep you safe."
"By hiding things?"
"Yes."
"By lying?"
"Yes."
"By protecting me instead of trusting me?"
He swallowed hard.
Finally, slowly, he spoke:
"I lie to protect people I care about."
"And how long do you think that can work?" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The silence twisted painfully between us—then shattered when thunder cracked directly above the building.
Jacob jerked upright, eyes narrowing.
"Someone's outside."
My stomach flipped. "Are you sure?"
He didn't reply.
He didn't need to.
His posture changed—his back straightening, breath slowing, body sharpening. He scanned the room with that terrifying, trained precision I still didn't understand.
He moved toward the window, staying low, sweeping aside the dusty curtain with two fingers.
His jaw clenched.
"Flashlights," he whispered. "Three. Maybe more."
"Are they…?"
"Yes."His voice was deadly quiet."They found us again."
My blood ran cold.
"What do we do?"
"We move. Now. We go out the back—"
Glass shattered somewhere near the street.Jacob froze.
"No," he murmured, mind racing. "They're surrounding the perimeter. They're trying to trap us."
My throat tightened. "Jacob—"
He turned to me fiercely.
"Lily. Listen to me. Whatever happens, stay behind me."
"No. I'm not letting you—"
He grabbed my face, holding it between his palms with a gentleness that contradicted the chaos outside.
"I'm not asking," he breathed."I'm telling you. Stay. Behind. Me."
Lightning flashed.
For a second, his silhouette looked like a man already halfway gone—shadows carved under his eyes, pain etched into every line of his body.
His hand dropped to the knife tucked in his boot.
"Jacob…" My voice trembled. "You can't fight them like this. You're injured."
He gave a humorless smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"I'm serious!"
"So am I."
He moved toward the door.
I grabbed his wrist.
He stopped.
The storm outside was deafening, but somehow, the silence between us felt louder.
"You're not going out there alone," I whispered.
Slowly, he turned his head toward me.
His eyes—God, his eyes—darkened with something that wasn't anger or fear.
Something closer to desperation.
"I don't want you to follow me," he said. "If they get me, you run. Understand?"
"No."
His breath hitched—like that one word hurt more than the bullet.
"Lily—"
"No," I repeated, stronger this time. "I'm not running without you."
He closed his eyes.
Not in frustration.
In surrender.
When he opened them again, something had changed.Gone was the cold, controlled Jacob Reed.Gone was the man who hid everything behind armor and silence.
What replaced him was raw. Open. Afraid to lose me.
He stepped closer, his forehead pressing against mine.
"Then stay with me," he whispered, breath unsteady. "Stay close. Don't leave my side."
"I won't."
He exhaled shakily.
His lips brushed my temple—barely, just a ghost of a touch—but it sent a wave of heat through me.
He pulled back.
And in his eyes, I saw a truth he had never spoken:
You're the only thing I have left.
Before either of us could say another word—
The doorknob rattled.
Hard.
Once.Twice.Then violently.
Jacob pushed me behind him and withdrew the knife.
"Stay low," he breathed.
My heart tried to escape my chest.
The door shook again—
Then—
It slammed open.
And the night swallowed the room.
"Cornered"
The door exploded inward.
Wood splintered across the floor, the crash echoing through the safe house like a gunshot. My body moved before my brain could catch up — I grabbed Jacob's arm and pulled him behind the stack of crates, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt.
Boots.Heavy. Fast.The sound of men pouring in like a flood.
Jacob pressed me down gently, placing himself between me and the direction of the footsteps. Even bleeding, even barely standing, he shielded me with his whole body.
"Stay low," he whispered.
His voice was a ragged breath, but still sharp enough to slice through panic.
I swallowed hard. "Jacob… you can't fight them like this."
He gave me a small, crooked smile — the kind that said I will anyway.
Three silhouettes moved inside the doorway. One of them kicked aside the broken pieces of the frame.
"Search everything," a deep voice barked.
Jacob's hand found mine again, squeezing once — a silent promise.
"I'll distract them," he murmured. "When I move, you go out the back. Don't look behind you."
"No." I grabbed his sleeve, my voice breaking. "I'm not leaving you."
"You have to."
"I'm not."
His jaw clenched, frustration flashing through his eyes — but then it softened, almost painfully.
"Lily… please."
That single word shattered something in me.
Before I could answer, a shadow moved closer. Too close.
Jacob inhaled sharply — then pushed himself to his feet, using the wall for balance. Blood streaked down his arm but he didn't stop.
He turned toward the intruder.
"Looking for someone?" Jacob called out.
His voice was cold. Controlled.
The man spun toward the sound—Jacob's distraction worked. The other two turned as well.
"Hey—!" one shouted.
Jacob moved first.
He grabbed the nearest metal pole leaning against the crates and swung it with more strength than someone with his injuries should have. It slammed into the man's arm, causing him to drop his gun.
The second man rushed forward, but Jacob elbowed him in the jaw. The impact made Jacob's knees buckle, but he forced himself upright.
Then the third man raised his gun.
I stood without thinking.
"Jacob!"
The gun turned toward my voice —
Jacob's eyes widened—
And he threw himself between me and the barrel.
A single shot fired.
The bullet tore through the air, close enough that I felt it graze past my cheek.
Jacob shoved me down behind the crates again, his breath shaking."You said you wouldn't freeze," he whispered, trying to smirk. "I'm proud of you."
"You idiot!" I whispered harshly. "You're going to get yourself killed—"
"Not today."
But even as he said it, he staggered.
For the first time, I saw real fear flash through his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
The three men regrouped, preparing to rush us again.
Jacob swayed, bracing himself against the wall. He lifted the pole again — but his hands shook violently.
He couldn't win.
Not alone.
I stood up beside him again.
"Lily—" he hissed. "Stay down—"
"No," I whispered, grabbing a broken shard of wood from the door. "I'm not leaving you alone. Not again."
Something shifted in his expression — something fierce and pained and proud all at once.
The men charged forward.
Jacob stepped in front of me, but I stepped with him.
And together — both terrified, both trembling — we braced ourselves to fight.
"Until the Last Breath"
The men came at us fast.
Jacob pushed forward first, swinging the metal pole in a wide arc that forced them to scatter. Even injured, he fought like someone who refused to die—not because he feared death, but because he refused to leave me alone with these monsters.
One of the men lunged toward me.I stepped back, heart pounding, and swung the broken wood in my hand. It cracked against his forearm, not enough to injure him, but enough to shock him—and enough to make him angry.
He grabbed my wrist.
Before he could tighten his grip, Jacob slammed the pole into the side of his ribs.
The man collapsed.
Jacob exhaled harshly. "Don't touch her."
But the last man still stood.
He grabbed Jacob by the collar and threw him against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of him, and I felt the world tilt as I saw Jacob stumble to his knees.
"Jacob!" I cried.
The man aimed his gun straight at him.
My lungs froze.
Jacob looked up at me—just for a second—like he was silently saying goodbye.
No.No, I wouldn't let that happen.
I grabbed the fallen gun on the ground beside the unconscious guard. My hands shook uncontrollably, but I pointed it anyway.
"Let him go," I whispered.
The man turned, scoffing. "You won't shoot."
"I will," I said—though the tremble in my voice betrayed me.
He smirked and raised his weapon—
A shot rang out.
Not mine.
The man collapsed.
Behind him stood a shadowed figure—one of Jacob's very few allies, one he had warned me about. A ghost from his past who owed him a debt.
"It's getting worse, Jacob," the man said flatly. "You need to move. Now."
Jacob tried to stand, but his legs buckled. I ran to him, wrapping his arm around me. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive.
He leaned his forehead against mine for a brief second—a fragile, trembling moment.
"You did good," he whispered.
My throat closed. "You scared me."
He gave a faint smile. "Good. Means you care."
I rolled my eyes through tears. "Shut up and walk."
With the ally clearing the path, I helped Jacob out through the back door into the rain-soaked alley. The world felt quieter, washed by the storm, but danger lingered like smoke.
Jacob coughed, leaning on me heavier than before.
"We're not safe yet," he murmured.
"I know," I said. "But we're alive."
His fingers squeezed mine—weak, but sure.
"For now," he whispered. "And as long as I can stand… I'll keep you that way."
I rested my head against his shoulder.
"Then we stand together."
The rain swallowed our footsteps as we disappeared into the night.