The underground stairway was dark and damp.
Liora's footsteps echoed as she rushed down the concrete steps, the stranger pulling her along without slowing down. The sound of rain faded behind them, replaced by the hollow silence beneath the city.
The air was colder here.
Stale.
Dusty.
They reached the bottom of the stairs where an abandoned subway entrance stretched ahead of them.
The metal gate that once blocked the entrance hung crookedly from its hinges. Rust covered most of its surface, and the faint flicker of an old emergency light illuminated the empty platform beyond.
Liora's chest rose and fell rapidly.
She bent slightly, trying to catch her breath.
The stranger finally released her wrist.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Only the distant sound of water dripping from somewhere deep within the tunnel filled the silence.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Liora glanced back toward the stairs.
"Do you think they saw us come down here?"
The man stepped closer to the edge of the platform and looked toward the dark tunnel ahead.
"They might," he said calmly.
"That doesn't sound very reassuring."
"They're not stupid."
He turned and leaned slightly against one of the concrete pillars.
The movement made him wince.
Liora noticed immediately.
"You're hurt."
"I noticed that too."
His sarcasm returned, but this time his voice sounded weaker.
Now that they had stopped running, the blood from his wound had begun to soak through his sleeve again.
Dark red stains spread across the leather of his jacket.
Liora frowned.
"If you keep ignoring it, you'll lose too much blood."
He glanced at his arm.
Then at her.
"You sound like a doctor."
"I'm not."
"Then don't worry about it."
Liora crossed her arms stubbornly.
"I helped you escape. That means I get to worry."
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
Rainwater dripped from his dark hair, falling onto the concrete floor below.
"You're persistent," he muttered.
"Someone has to be."
She stepped closer.
"Sit down."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
She pointed at an old wooden bench near the platform wall.
"You need to sit."
The man looked as if he was considering refusing.
But after a few seconds, he slowly walked toward the bench and sat down.
Liora immediately opened her school bag.
Inside were only a few ordinary things—books, a notebook, a pen…
And a small first aid pouch.
The man noticed it.
"You carry medical supplies to school?"
"It's for emergencies."
He smirked faintly.
"You weren't kidding."
She knelt beside him.
"Take off the jacket."
He looked at her for a moment.
"You're very comfortable giving orders."
"You're very comfortable bleeding everywhere."
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Without another word, he slowly removed the leather jacket.
Underneath, he wore a dark shirt that was already soaked with blood.
Liora inhaled sharply.
"That's worse than I thought."
"Relax. It's not fatal."
"How do you know?"
"I've had worse."
That answer only made her more uneasy.
She carefully cut open the sleeve of his shirt with a small pair of scissors from the pouch.
The wound was clearly from a bullet.
Not deep enough to kill immediately.
But deep enough to cause serious damage.
"You're lucky," she said quietly.
He chuckled softly.
"Luck and I aren't exactly friends."
Liora began cleaning the wound.
The alcohol made him flinch slightly.
"Sorry," she murmured.
"Don't be."
He studied her while she worked.
Her movements were careful and focused.
Despite the danger they were in…
She looked strangely calm.
"Why didn't you run?" he asked suddenly.
She paused.
"What?"
"In the alley."
"You had the chance."
"I told you to leave."
Liora looked down at the bandage she was wrapping around his arm.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"You looked like someone who needed help."
He watched her silently.
Most people ran away from trouble.
But this girl had walked straight into it.
"Naive," he said quietly.
"Maybe."
"But I don't regret it."
Her answer made him look away.
For the first time since they met, he seemed unsure of what to say.
After a moment, she finished tying the bandage.
"There," she said.
"That should slow the bleeding."
He flexed his arm slightly.
"Not bad."
Liora sat back on her heels.
"You still haven't told me your name."
He leaned back against the wall.
For a moment, it seemed like he might ignore the question.
Then he spoke.
"Adrian."
The name echoed softly in the empty station.
"Adrian," she repeated.
"And you?"
"Liora."
He nodded once.
"Well, Liora."
His voice turned serious again.
"You should go home now."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You've done enough."
"But those men—"
"They're looking for me."
His gaze hardened.
"Not you."
Before she could respond—
A faint noise echoed from the stairway above.
Both of them froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Careful.
Adrian's eyes instantly sharpened.
"Too late," he muttered.
The footsteps continued down the stairs.
Then a beam of light cut through the darkness of the station.
A voice echoed through the underground platform.
Cold.
Confident.
"Well, well."
The flashlight stopped directly on them.
Three men stepped onto the platform.
One of them smiled.
"Found you."
Adrian slowly stood up.
His injured arm barely moved.
But the cold expression on his face returned completely.
The man with the flashlight tilted his head.
"And you even brought a girl."
His smile widened.
"That's unfortunate."
Liora felt the tension in the air snap tight like a wire.
And she suddenly realized something terrifying.
They weren't just here to capture Adrian.
They were here to kill him.