When Lili opened her eyes, it felt like waking from the bottom of a drowning dream. The hospital room was steeped in a heavy, unnatural silence. Only the pale, sickly glow of the heart monitor cast any light, bathing the sterile walls in flickering pulses of blue. The shadows stretched long and wrong, as though something had shifted while she slept. The air was cold and still, yet thick with something she couldn’t name.
Outside the window, the world had sunken into deep night. The lights of the city glimmered in the distance, too far to matter. For a brief second, she thought she was alone. Safe, maybe. Then came the sound.
A scream.
Not a scream of pain. It was twisted—like twisted panic, a high-pitched cry that sent a bolt of terror directly into her bones. It sounded like someone was being torn apart just outside her door.
Lili’s breath caught in her throat. Her pulse quickened, hot and frantic.
They’ve found me, her mind whispered. They’ve come back to finish it.
She sat upright too quickly, and the pain in her shoulder exploded. But she didn’t stop. She gritted her teeth, blinking against the wave of dizziness. The scream came again, closer this time—raw and cracked, like something clawing at the walls of sanity.
She tore the blankets off herself, yanking at the IV needle buried in her vein. Blood welled, dark and warm against her skin. Monitors beeped furiously in protest, then flatlined into silence. Her body trembled with weakness, but she kept moving, peeling off the remaining sensors with frantic hands.
The moment she was free, she stood—barely.
Her legs felt too thin to hold her weight. Her bare feet touched the cold tile floor with a jolt. The pulse in her shoulder deepened. Not just pain—a sensation. Something alive. Twisting. Burning from the inside.
She stumbled forward, grabbing onto the IV stand for balance, breathing hard through her teeth. The scream had stopped now. What followed was worse—total silence. No beeping. No footsteps. No chatter from other rooms or nurses making rounds. The building had gone… hollow.
As if she was the only one left inside.
Lili reached the door with a hand that trembled so violently, she could barely grip the handle. She paused there, listening.
Nothing.
Not even her own breathing.
Don’t open it, something in her whispered. You don’t want to see what’s out there.
But the silence was unbearable. It was pressing in, threatening to drown her if she didn’t move. She turned the handle and pulled the door open, bracing herself—
And stared into a corridor washed in dim emergency light. Empty. Still.
Too still.
No nurses. No patients. Not even the squeak of wheels on linoleum. The corridor stretched in both directions like the inside of a grave, lit by flickering bulbs that buzzed quietly overhead.
She stepped forward, just a little, her breath ghosting in front of her.
“Am I losing my mind?” she whispered aloud, though the words seemed to fall flat and die before they reached the walls.
Her voice didn’t echo.
It was as if the building had swallowed it whole.
Her fingers brushed the wall for support, the cool tiles grounding her as she pushed forward, dragging herself slowly down the dim corridor. Each step was an effort of will, as though her bones had become too heavy for her skin to carry. She moved toward the nearest bathroom, guided only by the faint outline of the door and the silver sliver of artificial light beneath it.
Inside, she flicked the switch, and the harsh overhead bulb buzzed to life, casting her reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. What she saw rooted her in place.
Pale. Greyer than pale—her skin looked leached of life. Her eyes were sunken, ringed in bruised hollows, and her lips had lost all color. For a long moment, she stared in silence, watching the slight tremble in her hands as they reached out to steady the edge of the sink. Her breath fogged the glass. She didn’t look better. If anything… she looked worse.
Her mind drifted. Who sent the shooter? There were too many names that fit. Too many that hated her enough.
Deran? That name clawed its way to the surface like a ghost from a grave. But Deran wasn’t the only one. The list stretched longer than her reflection had breath.
She didn’t hear the knock until it echoed through the cold bathroom tiles. Her heart jolted.
She turned sharply to the door. Muscles coiled. Silence followed, stretching too long, too thin.
Then a woman’s voice soft, carefully measured reached her. “Miss Morgut, are you in here?”
Lili didn’t move. Her lungs ached with tension. Something in the woman’s tone—too calm, too practiced—made her chest seize with dread.
Then came the second voice. Male. Calm, but with a gravel edge, like someone who expected obedience the moment he spoke. “Miss Morgut,” he said, “I just want to talk.”
That voice… it was too official. Too careful. Not police. Not one of Fosin’s. Than she heard the woman whisper something, low, muffled. Her blood ran cold.
She spun toward the window—too small, too high, impossible to fit through. Her mind scrambled for options. Her gaze darted up. There, in the ceiling: a lamp. The only source of light.
Without hesitating, she grabbed the soapbox resting beside the faucet. Her fingers slipped once, wet with sweat, but she clenched it and hurled it at the bulb. Glass shattered with a sharp crack, plunging the room into sudden, smothering darkness.
The bathroom became a cavern of shadow, and Lili pressed her back to the wall.
***
Torin stood by the tall window of his office, the skyline of the city casting jagged reflections across the polished floor. Behind him, the heavy doors clicked shut as Fosin stepped in. The scent of expensive cigars still lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the paperwork.
“They were here,” Torin said without turning. “Detectives Caspian and Thomas. They didn’t accuse us of anything outright, but they’re circling.” He glanced over his shoulder at his son. “They asked about her.”
Fosin nodded and took a seat in the leather chair across from the desk. “And what did you say?”
“The truth.” Torin raised a brow. “That she’s a secretary. That we had no idea why someone would want her dead. That we were as shocked as anyone else.” He poured himself a drink from the cabinet behind the desk, the amber liquid swirling as he added, “Lili handled herself well, apparently. Didn’t give them anything to work with.”
Fosin exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against the arm of the chair. “That won’t matter for long. You and I both know someone made a move—and they’ll try again. She’s vulnerable. The hospital is the worst place for her.”
Torin turned fully, drink in hand, and studied his son. “You think they’ll strike again?”
“I’m sure of it,” Fosin replied. “We don’t have time to wait around. If someone gets to her first, we lose everything. Like it or not, she’s the only thing keeping our enemies from moving directly against us.”
Torin sipped his drink. “You’re suggesting we move her tonight?”
“Exactly that.” Fosin leaned forward. “We get her to a secure location. Away from the police, away from whoever pulled the trigger. If we wait another day, we might not have a chance at all.”
A long silence stretched between them. The city lights flickered in the distance, casting the illusion of calm over the storm brewing underneath.
Torin turned fully from the window now, setting his drink down with a sharp clink on the polished desk. His expression now was sharper. His eyes settled on Fosin with a quiet fury that needed no shouting to be felt.
“You made a mistake, son. A huge one.” His voice was low, but the edge in it could’ve cut through stone. “You were in charge of the security. It was your responsibility to make sure the rooftops were cleared.”
Fosin stiffened in his chair, but didn’t interrupt.
Torin took a slow step forward, each word heavier than the last. “Her only duty was to guard us from other Gifted threats. That’s it. Instead, she took a bullet and nearly died for it.”
He paused, eyes narrowing. “How can I trust that you won’t fail again?”
Fosin swallowed his pride with effort. “It wasn’t just negligence,” he said quietly. “Someone let that sniper in. I had double patrols, security monitoring the district’s cams. This wasn’t an oversight.”
Torin’s gaze didn’t soften. “And yet it still happened. If someone got past you once, they’ll do it again.”
Fosin stood slowly, his voice harder now. “Then let me take her out of that hospital before they come back to finish what they started.”
Torin studied him for a long moment. “You think that’ll be enough? Just move her, and all our problems go away?”
“No,” Fosin said. “But it’ll buy us time. Time to find who did this. Time to strike back. Right now, she’s our greatest liability—and our greatest asset. If she dies under our watch, it won’t just be an embarrassment. It’ll be an invitation. Everyone we’ve ever kept in check will come crawling out of the dark.”
Torin turned, considering that grim truth, hands clasped behind his back.
“Make it clean,” Torin said at last. “No mistakes.”
Fosin stood. “I’ll take care of it.”
***
Mike stood outside the bathroom door. He turned slightly to the nurse beside him. Her hands were clenched tightly around her clipboard, knuckles white.
“She shouldn’t be moving like this,” she whispered, glancing anxiously at the door. “Whatever business you have with her—she needs rest. That shoulder—”
“I understand,” Mike said quietly, but the mechanical tone in his voice betrayed the truth. He had said those words too many times, to too many people, and whatever sincerity had once been in them had long since faded into habit. His eyes remained fixed on the door—cool, calculating.
Then came the crack of shattering glass from inside.
Mike reacted instantly. His hand flew to the pistol holstered at his side, his voice low but sharp. “Miss Morgut?”
No answer.
His eyes narrowed. He stepped forward and knocked—once. Hard. “Lili, open the door. Now.”
Still nothing. His jaw tensed.
He turned to the nurse. “Step aside.”
“What are you doing!?” she gasped.
“Ma’am,” he said firmly, already stepping forward, “Step. Aside.”
His boot crashed into the door. Once. Twice. The wood groaned. With a third, well-placed kick, the lock splintered and the door burst open.
The light inside was out. Shadows crawled along the walls. Before he could move further in, something struck from the left—fast and low. A foot caught the side of his hand, sending the pistol clattering across the floor.
Mike ducked the second strike, a sharp punch aimed at his head. He retreated a step just as another kick came up, aimed squarely at his ribs.
“Miss Morgut!” he screamed. “Stop right now!”
But Lili didn’t stop.
Disoriented but burning with desperate adrenaline, she moved again—toward the gun. Her body trembled, her vision swam, but she reached for it anyway. Mike was faster. He kicked the weapon out of her reach and lunged forward, grabbing her by the shoulders, spinning her back toward the wall.
Pain exploded from her shoulder and she let out a strangled gasp, her knees nearly buckling.
Mike caught her before she collapsed, shifting his grip with a grunt. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, then reached into his coat and pulled out a silver badge, raising it for her to see.
Lili froze, chest heaving, eyes wide. His badge gleamed even in the half-light of the broken room—official, marked with a seal that wasn’t police, but government…
Leave a Reply