Page 44 of When You're Gone

“That was close,” Ameliasaid,gasping. “He set a trap.”

“You can thank me later,” Finnquipped, getting to his feet and helping Amelia up.

“I just need to sit for a moment,”Amelia said, catching her breath, holding her side.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked,concerned.

“Fine, I just landed on the floorand...”

But there was no time to finish theconversation. The shadowy masked figure thrust towards them through the smoke.It lunged forward, silent as the grave, arms outstretched. Finn met the attackhead-on, grappling with the assailant in the narrow confines of the carriage.Each punch thrown was a burst of pent-up frustration, each dodge a dance withdeath. The killer was strong, but Finn matched him move for move, fueled by thedesperation to end this nightmare.

"Careful, Finn!" Ameliacalled out, her voice edged with concern as she searched for an opening tohelp.

But there was no room for two inthis deadly tango. A sharp jolt of pain shot through Finn's rib cage as he tooka hit, the impact echoing through the metal carcass of the train. He stumbledback, catching a glimpse of amusement flickering behind the mask's hollow eyes.

"Got your breath?" the killertaunted, voice muffled by the ornate facade. He drew back his cloak andreached for something lying on top of an old chair. It was a large blade.

Finn glared at it.

"I've got more thanthat," Finn spat back, regaining his footing. He feinted left beforedriving his fist towards the masked face, connecting with a satisfying crunch.

The killer staggered, momentarilyoff balance, but recovered with unnerving speed. The fight continued, a blur ofmotion within the derelict carriage, each strike a potential endgame, eachblock a stolen second of life.

"Chronos," Finn growled,the name bitter on his tongue. "This ends now. Where’s Vilne!?"

Amelia lurched forward to help, butChronos threw a kick, knocking her to the ground in a daze.

Despite the intensity of thebattle, Finn's mind raced, piecing together the puzzle even as he fought forsurvival. The wiped laptops, the elaborate costume—it all pointed to a grandplan, one that Finn was determined to unravel.

The clatter of the fight echoed offthe brick-lined tunnel as Finn, his breath coming in fiery gasps, scrambled upthe side of a rust-eaten carriage. His hands grasped the cold metal edge of theroof, pulling his body upwards with a force born of desperation. The killer wasrelentless—a specter draped in the eerie stillness of the abandoned station,the Victorian face mask making them appear an apparition out of time.

"Amelia!" Finn shouted,but his voice was swallowed by the cavernous darkness. He threw himself ontothe roof, the surface buckling under his weight. A silhouette against the dimlight, the killer bounded after him, footsteps thundering like the trains thatonce roared through this desolate artery of the city.

Finn's heart raced, pounding arhythm with the urgency of a Morse code distress signal. He rolled, dodging avicious swipe. The killer’s blade glinted—a whisper of silver in the gloom—andthen pain exploded in Finn's shoulder, hot and sharp. The impact pitched himforward, his hand instinctively pressing against the wound, feeling the warmwetness of blood.

Finn reached out and smashed thekiller in the throat with his fist. The killer reeled and looked around as iffrightened by the fact that Finn would never stop.

"I might need your costume fornext Halloween," Finn gritted his teeth, pushing through the haze of pain.No time for weakness—not when every second could mean another opportunity forthe killer to murder.

With a feral grace, the killerseemed suddenly gripped by fear. He leaped from carriage to carriage, the oldtrain cars groaning beneath their weight. Finn fought to keep pace, his visionblurring at the edges. He was losing ground, the killer always one step ahead,a twisted dance atop this graveyard of steel and glass.

"Chronos!" he called out,the name a challenge thrown into the void. But there was no answer, only theecho of his own voice and the relentless pursuit.

Just as the killer vaulted towardsthe last carriage, aiming for the gravel-strewn ground beyond, Finn lunged. Hisfingers caught the hem of Chronos' coat, gripping it with a desperation thatsurprised even himself. The fabric strained, the sound of tearing threadsbarely audible over the clamor of their struggle.

"Gotcha," Finn muttered,a surge of triumph rising within him. He yanked back, the killer's legbuckling, their balance compromised. For a moment, they teetered on theprecipice—the brink between flight and fall.

"Give it up," he snarled,his own pain fueling his resolve. "End this madness!"

But Chronos was silent save for theheavy, measured breaths behind the mask, as if each exhale were an insult, ataunt, a defiance that Finn had yet to dissolve.

Finn's breath came in ragged gaspsas he threw himself forward, his body crashing atop the masked figure. They hitthe carriage roof with a thud that echoed through the hollow space below. Withno time to waste, Finn's fingers scrabbled at the Victorian face mask, ananachronism that had haunted their investigation. The elastic gave way, and hepulled it off, revealing Chronos' identity.

Shock registered even throughFinn's adrenaline-fueled haze. Staring back at him was not the face of somehardened criminal mastermind but that of a young man, seemingly no older thantwenty-five. His features were sharp, almost delicate, with an air of arroganceetched into the lines of his face—a stark contrast to the brutality he haddealt. A cold smile curved his lips, as if amused by Finn's surprise.

"Too late, detective,"Chronos taunted, his voice smooth and unnervingly calm. "The world willburn, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Is The Tempus Machine just avirus then? Some cyber weapon?" Finn demanded, struggling to keep thekiller pinned despite the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

---