The night was too quiet for a city like theirs and not the gentle silence of peace, but the sharp, listening quiet of danger. A quiet that felt intentional. Like the streets themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something terrible to exhale.
Adanna felt it first, an itch between her shoulder blades as she walked down the narrow corridor of the abandoned textile warehouse. The place smelled of damp concrete and old fabric dyes, the air thick with dust that clung to her lungs. Every step she took echoed faintly, swallowed by the vast emptiness around her.
Her flashlight beam darted across rusted sewing machines, overturned tables, torn rolls of fabric long eaten by rats. The lead she followed, one she hoped would finally bring her closer to the truth behind the explosions, the betrayal, the night that ruined everything.....had dragged her to this lonely structure at the edge of the city.
She shouldn't have come alone but she needed answers. She needed something, anything, that would explain why she kept finding traces of someone she thought she had lost.
Someone who was supposed to be dead. Someone she still dreamed about in ways she didn't dare confess.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. "Alright," she whispered to no one, "let's see what secret you're hiding."
She moved deeper and above her, hidden in the lattice of rusted pipes near the ceiling, someone moved too.
Darian.
He pressed himself against the shadows, breath shallow, muscles pulled tight despite the lingering pain in his healing ribs. His body still carried the map of his survival, scars that cut across skin like permanent reminders of the night he should have died.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't supposed to follow her.
He wasn't supposed to look at her like this, alive, close enough to touch, yet worlds away but he couldn't help it. Couldn't stay away. Couldn't keep himself from the pull she had on him even now, even after everything.
From his perch above, he watched the way she moved with calculated precision, the way her eyes missed nothing, the way grief had sharpened her instead of breaking her. She was stronger now, harder and more determined.
And he was the reason. His fingers clenched around the cold metal bar he hid behind. He hadn't meant to be seen, not yet, not like this..... broken, scarred, angry at the world, angry at himself but fate, as usual, didn't care about his plans.
A soft clang echoed through the warehouse.
Adanna snapped around instantly, flashlight raised like a weapon. Her heart kicked hard. "Who's there?"
Darian froze. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. He didn't breathe.
"Show yourself," she called again, voice steady, posture ready.
The beam of her torch swept upward....closer, higher and toward him.
Darian's pulse hammered. If she lifted the light just a few degrees more… if she stepped forward just a few meters… if she dared to look where she normally wouldn't…
She would see him....she would know.....she would realize he was alive.
Just like that, he swallowed hard, not yet....not like this. His voice, when he forced it through the damaged roughness of his throat came out as little more than a whisper.
"Don't."
Adanna froze.
Her breath left her in a single stunned exhale.
That voice.
No, she told herself sharply, no. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. She had heard that voice in nightmares. She had heard it echo in the moments before waking, tormenting her subconscious with memories she couldn't erase. She had imagined it in the dark, desperate for it just one more time, just long enough to say everything she never got to say.
Her hand trembled around the flashlight.
"Who.....who's there?" she whispered, though the question felt almost foolish. Her mind was already racing, her heart lurching painfully against her ribs.
Darian's fingers twitched. He had slipped, the instinct of warning her escaping him before he could stop it. He cursed under his breath.
Below him, Adanna stepped closer.
Her light angled upward and he shifted back, but the movement sent a bolt of pain through the half-healed wound beneath his ribs. He winced barely, quietly but it was enough.
The faint sound echoed downward, She heard it.
Her eyes widened, sharp, alert, hopeful in a way that terrified her.
"In the rafters," she murmured to herself. "There's someone up there."
She reached into her pocket, grabbed a small metal object, and hurled it upward. It struck a beam near his hiding place with a sharp clang.
Darian jerked back instinctively and for half a second, half a fractio, his silhouette broke from the shadow.
The flashlight beam caught the edge of his shoulder. The faintest outline of a man.
Tall....broad.....familiar and Adanna's breath hitched violently.
"Darian…?"
The name slipped out of her before she could stop it, before she could remind herself he was gone, before she could ground herself in what was real and logical.
Her hand trembled again.
Darian pressed back into the darkness so tightly the metal bit into his palms. He didn't move. Didn't answer. Didn't breathe.
If he spoke again, it would break her. If he revealed himself now, it would ruin everything he'd set in motion.
He forced himself silent but her voice, soft, cracked, disbelieving kept replaying in his mind.
Darian…?
He shut his eyes.
Below, Adanna's heart hammered so loudly she could hear the blood rushing past her ears. She swallowed, took a step back, then forward again, unable to decide whether to run or chase what might have been a ghost.
"Say something," she whispered. Begged, almost. "If you're there… if you're real… say something."
Silence answered her, the kind of silence that hurt.
She clenched her jaw. "Fine," she murmured, trying to steady herself. "I'll find you."
That terrified him more than anything.
He shifted silently through the rafters, positioning himself closer to the broken stairway at the far end. She moved below him, searching, scanning every dark corner, refusing to give up.
She came close...so close he could smell the faint citrus scent she always carried.
So close he could see the small scar at her temple from the night everything went wrong.
So close he could reach down and touch her hair if he dared.
He didn't....
She turned and her flashlight beam hit the floor where a drop of blood had fallen.
Fresh..... warm and not hers.
Her stomach flipped.
She lowered herself slowly, touching the crimson smear with her fingertips. Her chest tightened, her throat closing up.
No.... No... No
Her head snapped upward.
"Darian?" she called again, louder this time, voice breaking on the name.
Her words echoed across the emptiness and for one dangerous moment, he almost answered. He almost broke the silence just to ease that pain in her voice.
But then the faint crackle of a radio in his pocket reminded him why he was here, why he had to stay hidden, why she needed to believe he was gone.
He slipped toward the exit window, landing cat-silent on the platform below. Pain shot through his leg, but he pushed through it.
Adanna spun at the noise but it was too late, she only caught only the tail end of a dark figure slipping into the shadows.
Her pulse exploded.
"HEY!" she shouted, sprinting forward.
Darian slid out the broken window, landing hard on the concrete outside. His injured leg buckled, and he gasped quietly.
Adanna reached the window just in time to see movement disappearing behind the wall of rusted shipping containers.
Her heart twisted violently.
"That's him," she whispered. "It has to be him."
She climbed out through the window without hesitation.
The night air slapped against her skin....she ran faster than she had in months, adrenaline yanking her forward, but Darian had already vanished into the darkness. He moved through the alleys like a phantom, like someone who had mapped out every hiding place, every shortcut, every shadow that could swallow a human whole.
Because he had, because he lived here now....between the lines of the city, unseen but always watching.
Adanna stopped in the middle of the open lot, chest heaving, eyes scanning desperately.
"Please…" she whispered to the night. "Please don't let me be imagining this."
She looked around again and saw nothing, no trace, no footsteps except…
She knelt.
On the ground, the faintest imprint of a boot fresh, pressure still soft around the edges.
Her throat tightened.
"Darian," she breathed again, softer this time, but the pain in it cut like a blade.
High above on the rooftop, hidden by the shadows, Darian watched her sink to the ground.
His hand curled around the metal railing until his knuckles whitened. His chest ached with something raw and dangerous.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice too low for the wind to carry. "Not yet."
He turned and disappeared into the night.
Below him, Adanna stayed kneeling, fingers pressed to the ground where his footprint lay....holding onto the one thing she had left.
Hope.....
To be continued...