Page 10 of Dangerous Beginnings

I park my car in the dimly lit lot and sit there for a moment, trying to steady my breath. My mind is already whirling with the events of the day, and I need a minute before I face whatever’s next. I’m still processing the strange encounter from earlier, the lingering tension, when I finally see Lea’s car pull into the lot. She parks beside me and steps out, looking as casual as ever.

“How’s the new apartment?” I ask, trying to push aside the knot in my stomach.

“It’s great, honestly. Really cozy, but I swear I’m already planning to redecorate it. Can’t leave anything as it is,” Lea grins, but her usual energy doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s obvious that she can sense something is off about me, but she doesn’t ask.

We start walking towards the gates together, chatting about mundane things to distract myself from the tension I can’t shake. My heels click on the pavement, the sound too sharp against the heavy silence of the night.

Then, out of nowhere, we hear it—shouting. At first, it’s distant, but it grows louder, and more frantic, and I feel a sudden spike in my heartbeat. My stomach tightens, and I glance over atLea, my lips parting to ask if she hears it too. Before I can, the scene unfolds so quickly that I’m not even sure if I’m seeing it all.

A man appears out of the darkness, charging towards us with a knife clutched tightly in his hand. The glint of the blade catches the light and my mind blanks. My feet are rooted to the ground, completely still, frozen in place by sheer panic. The chaos around me swells—screams echo, people scattering, but I can’t move. It’s like I’m trapped in slow motion, waiting for the impact, the pain, the inevitable strike.

But then... nothing.

I don’t feel the blade, the sharp sting I expected. Instead, I feel a strange absence, a profound stillness. I blink, confusion overtaking me, and my senses snap back into place. My eyes fly open, only to find myself face to face with something far worse than I imagined—a massive shadow towering over me. The man who was rushing toward me is now frozen, facing away, but I can see him—just for a split second before he crumples to the ground, lifeless.

The entire scene feels like it’s happening in slow motion. My heart thunders in my chest, a deafening beat I can’t escape. The man has dropped dead, and all I hear is the static hum of my own blood rushing in my ears. My limbs feel frozen, my vision blurry as I try to process the moment, trying to understand what just happened.

I glance down, and my eyes trace the body of the man who had been coming for me, now lying motionless on the ground, a pool of dark red already beginning to spread. My breath hitches as my gaze slowly rises to meet the figure standing before me, the one who has intervened so decisively.

It’s him.

The one who had been shackled and restrained, his presence a constant shadow in the back of my mind. Now, he stands before me, towering and still, as if he’s always been this way. He’s atleast a head taller than the man who had attacked me, his sheer size making him seem even more imposing. His posture is rigid, the slightest movement of his chest the only sign that he’s still alive.

I can’t move, can’t breathe as his gaze locks with mine. His eyes are dark, empty—unreadable, and for a moment, I feel like the smallest creature alive. A mouse caught in a trap, frozen in place. I’m small under the weight of his stare, insignificant, yet he holds me there with nothing more than his gaze.

The world falls silent again, my heart drumming in my chest, when suddenly the static in my ears fades. The sounds of the chaos around me come rushing back—the panicked yelling, the clatter of footsteps on concrete, the distant wail of sirens.

Guards rush into the scene then, their faces obscured by black masks, dressed in heavy tactical gear. They swarm around the prisoner, shouting commands at him to drop the knife. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t flinch. He simply lets the shiv fall from his hand, the blade hitting the ground with a sickening clink. They swarm him, tackle him to the cold, unforgiving ground, and quickly restrain him, snapping cuffs around his wrists with practiced precision.

But even as they drag him away, as his body is hauled off, kicking and struggling, his eyes never leave mine. His gaze is relentless, burning into my mind. It’s like he’s branding me, marking me in a way that feels impossible to shake. As he’s pulled toward the gate, the last thing I see is his unblinking stare, his expression unreadable, but somehow piercing.

The guards usher him out of the yard, and I stand there, feeling like I’ve just been caught in a whirlwind. My pulse is still hammering in my ears, but the weight of his eyes, that cold stare, lingers.

And even after the noise dies down and I’m left standing alone, I can’t escape it. His eyes are burned into my memory, and theywill be for days, maybe longer.

Diable

They return me to my isolation cell, and this time, the cuffs remain firmly locked around my wrists. The cold metal bites into my skin, a cruel reminder of my imprisonment. I’m thrust back into the stifling confines, the walls pressing in with their sterile, oppressive whiteness.

The blood from my wounded arm seeps steadily, a dark and liquid testament to the chaos that just unfolded. Each drop is a visceral reminder of my recent violence, a macabre rhythm that echoes in the suffocating silence. I sit, shackled and drenched in the tang of my own blood; my thoughts consumed by her. She’s a tantalizing enigma, her fear a heady perfume that ignites something twisted and depraved in my core.

I envision her coming to me, drawn into this purgatorial cell by some perverse fate. She would enter, trembling yet resolute, and I would make her crawl. Not merely in submission, but in a profound, degrading realization of her own vulnerability. The thought of her on her knees before me, a symbol of her broken resolve, stirs a deep, dark satisfaction.

Chapter 6

To Terrify

Isabella

The guards flood the yard, clearing it out quickly as blood pulses through my ears, drowning everything around me. The chaos starts to settle, but I feel stuck in place, suspended in the surreal aftermath of what I’ve just witnessed. My heart is still racing, my hands feel cold, and my mind refuses to release the image of those dark, unreadable eyes.

“Isabella! Issa!” Lea’s voice cuts through the haze, pulling me back into the present. She’s running towards me, her frantic footsteps matching the urgency in her tone. She grabs me by the shoulders, shaking me slightly, and starts yelling, her face inches from mine. “Are you okay?!”

I don’t respond at first. My eyes are glued to the ground, staring at the bloody knife that had been discarded in the dirt. The pool of crimson around it paints the earth in stark, unforgiving red. The body of the inmate who had been lying there is already being dragged away, his lifeless form leaving nothing but a trail of blood behind him. It’s all too much.

“Issa!” Lea’s voice breaks through the fog again, and my head snaps up, meeting her worried gaze.

“Gosh, all the blood is draining from your face. It’s okay, nothing happened to you. You hear me? You’re safe now.” Her voice is a lifeline, but I can’t absorb it. I can’t process anything other than the image of those eyes. They’re burned into my mind, refusing to fade.

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