Chapter 14 — The Rooftop Run ( How to Outrun the Shadows You Don't Understand)
The rooftop door slammed open with a metallic clang.
Cold air hit Arielle's face, sharp and wet with the threat of another storm. The city stretched out below—a glittering maze of lights and vertigo.
Damian didn't stop moving. He scanned the skyline once, calculating distances with frightening precision. "We can't take the stairs. They'll have them covered."
"So what's plan B?" she shouted over the wind.
He pointed to the next building—thirty feet away, lower by two stories. "Jump."
She blinked. "You're insane."
He gave a humorless half-smile. "Then you'll fit right in."
He backed up two steps, ran, and launched himself off the edge. His coat flared like wings before he landed with a solid roll on the other side.
Arielle's stomach dropped. "Oh, hell no—"
"Now, Arielle!" he barked, voice carrying across the gap.
The shouts came before she could think—doors slamming below, boots pounding metal stairs. The intruders had backup.
She ran.
The edge came too fast, the world tilted, and she jumped—screaming the whole way. For one terrible heartbeat she was flying, then crashing, then rolling into Damian's arms as he caught her momentum.
"Nice form," he muttered, hauling her up.
"Remind me to fire you for this later!"
"Can't fire me if you're dead—move!"
They sprinted across the rooftop, wind tearing at their clothes. Behind them, shadows emerged through the rain, flashlights cutting through the dark. Gunfire cracked—sharp, echoing.
Arielle ducked instinctively. "They're shooting at us?"
"Seems like it." He yanked her toward a ventilation unit as a bullet pinged off the metal beside them. "Stay low!"
Another shot sparked off the concrete near his shoulder. He drew a weapon from his coat—sleek, compact—and returned two quick shots. One flashlight shattered. The rest ducked back.
"Remind me again what your job title was supposed to be?" she panted.
"Executive consultant," he said dryly, checking the next rooftop distance. "With extracurriculars."
The rain picked up, slicking the surface. Damian tested the next leap—barely six feet, but a three-story drop if missed. "You first this time."
"Excuse me?"
"You'll hesitate if I go first."
"Maybe that's because this is insane!"
"Better insane than dead," he said, steady, holding her gaze. "Jump."
Her breath shook, adrenaline roaring through her veins. Then she ran and leapt. For a terrifying second she thought she wouldn't make it—then his hand caught hers midair, pulling her the rest of the way.
Their bodies collided hard. She gasped against him, heartbeat wild.
"Still alive," he said softly.
"Barely."
He released her just as another flash of movement appeared behind them—three figures emerging from the shadows. Damian swore under his breath.
"This way." He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the far edge where a construction platform jutted from the side of the next building. They slid down the scaffolding, metal groaning beneath them.
Halfway down, the structure shuddered—something exploded above, raining sparks. Arielle lost her footing with a scream.
Damian lunged, catching her wrist as the scaffold cracked. His arm strained; the wind roared; for one horrifying second, her feet dangled over a forty-story drop.
"Damian!"
"I've got you!" He gritted his teeth, muscles taut. With a violent pull, he hauled her back onto the platform. They collapsed together, panting, soaked, shaking.
"Do you—do you do this every Friday night?" she gasped.
He laughed once, short and breathless. "Only with the special ones."
Before she could answer, a searchlight swept across the building—white and blinding. A helicopter.
Damian's head snapped up. "They're escalating."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we disappear."
He dragged her toward a maintenance ladder leading to the lower deck. The helicopter's rotors thundered overhead, scattering rain like silver bullets. The noise was deafening.
Halfway down the ladder, Damian glanced up—one of the shadows had reached the rooftop, firing downward.
He swung his body to shield Arielle as sparks flew off the metal rails. "Keep climbing!"
She didn't argue. They hit the next platform, sprinted across it, ducking under steel beams until Damian slammed open a side door. They stumbled into a half-finished penthouse—glass walls, rain streaking across them like veins of light.
Arielle doubled over, gasping. "We—can't—keep running like this."
"Yes, we can." Damian pulled a small device from his pocket—a black tracker flickering red. He crushed it under his heel. "They're following my signal."
Her eyes widened. "You mean—they've been tracking you the whole time?"
"Not anymore."
Outside, the helicopter circled once more, then veered off, lights fading into the storm.
Silence, finally. The kind that rang after chaos.
Arielle slumped against the glass, chest heaving. "We almost died. Three times."
Damian leaned against the opposite wall, drenched, bleeding, still somehow composed. "That's a low estimate."
She gave a shaky laugh. "You're unbelievable."
He looked at her—really looked—and for the first time that night, the steel in his eyes softened. "You okay?"
"No," she said honestly. "But I'm not broken either."
A faint smile. "That's good enough."
Lightning split the sky, throwing their reflections across the glass—two figures standing on the edge of something they didn't yet understand.
"Who are they, Damian?" she whispered.
He turned away, watching the city lights flicker below. "Ghosts," he said quietly. "From a life I should've buried years ago."
Before she could ask more, he moved to the far window, scanning the skyline again—ever alert, ever calculating.
"We can't stay here," he said finally. "They'll regroup."
She nodded, still trembling. "Then where?"
He looked back at her, expression unreadable. "Someplace even ghosts won't follow."
Thunder cracked above them as they vanished into the storm.
Xoxo Eloura 😘 😍 😘