April moved.
Fast. Silent.
Every step felt like it could betray her. The floor whispered under her weight, the air shifted around her skin, the shadows clung too closely—like they knew her secret.
She wasn't running. Not exactly. She was slipping—between desks, along the walls, behind shelves—like a ghost that didn't belong here.
"Footsteps? In the hall outside," she mentally noted to herself.
Heavy. Controlled. Two of them.
Not guards. Guards didn't move like that.
These men knew how to hunt.
April pressed flat against the wall, her lungs aching with the effort to stay still.
Her breath silent, low. Controlled.
The door handle turned. Slow and careful.
Not a check—an assurance.
They already knew.
A click.
One of the unknown man drew his weapon-a futuristic looking sword.
Her pulse roared in her ears. Still she didn't move. Not yet.
One of them entered. His presence dragged the air down with him. She could hear the shift of fabric as his grip adjusted on a gun around his waist.
Close—too close.
Then—
A voice. Low and old.
"Nothing here. But someone was."
A pause. The kind that pressed against her ribs.
"Let's move. She won't get far."
The door shut.
April didn't breathe until the echo of their boots dissolved into silence. Then she let the air escape, trembling against the edge of a desk.
"Who the hell were they? And why are they researching for me? I really don't know what i should do... but for now i should get home. Then i'll brainstorm on what to do."
But no there was no time for questions. No time to think. Just escape.
Saint john hospital was a maze now, every hallway a trap. The two unknown man were sweeping through it with precision, their movements slicing through the quiet like knives.
She could feel them—measured breaths, calculated steps—like predators drawing a net tighter and tighter.
And she was the catch.
April slid into a side corridor, crouched low, eyes darting, ears straining for the slightest disturbance.
Ahead—a checkpoint. One guard. His eyes fixed on the glowing monitor, face pale under the fluorescent light. Too exposed. No way through.
Her thoughts raced. Too fast. Too loud.
Then—a spark.
April's hand closed around her phone. She set the volume high. A flick of her wrist sent it clattering down the hall.
The chime rang out.
The guard flinched, head snapping toward the noise.
That was enough.
April slipped past—one step, two, three—her body a shadow moving through blind spots.
And then—
The exit.
Cold air slapped her skin as she pushed through the doors into the night.
She didn't stop.
She didn't stop, pulling the hood of her jacket up
Here's a smoother continuation that flows naturally from your previous line:
She didn't stop, pulling the hood of her jacket up as the wind brushed against her face. Whatever this hunger was—it wasn't normal, and deep down, she knew it.
April didn't look back.
The hunt had only just begun.