Desperation

The sharp sting of cold air burned Seagull's lungs as he stumbled forward, his vision hazy from blood loss and exhaustion. His body ached—every breath, every movement, a searing reminder of how close he had come to death. He had escaped, but barely. The echoes of his captors' shouts still rang in his ears, their fury sending a chill through his spine.

He had no time to stop. No time to think. His only focus was putting as much distance between himself and them as possible.

His heartbeat pounded in his skull, deafening against the silence of the darkened alleyways he maneuvered through. His left arm was practically useless, hanging limply at his side, blood soaking through his torn shirt. But pain was secondary to the urgency clawing at his mind. I have to get to Giselle.

Seagull gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move faster. He didn't know how long he had been running, only that every second mattered. They would come after him. They always did. He was never meant to leave that room alive.

The city streets blurred around him as he staggered into a dimly lit underpass. He pressed himself against the cold stone wall, his breath shallow and uneven. He had to think. His captors weren't just men looking to silence him. They were something far worse. And if they caught him now, he wouldn't get another chance.

Giselle... I have to tell her. She has to know.

A gust of wind howled through the underpass, and Seagull felt a shiver run down his spine. He wasn't alone.

He turned sharply, instincts screaming at him to move. A dark figure stood at the far end of the tunnel, their presence almost blending into the shadows. His stomach twisted. They found me.

The figure took a slow step forward, their voice smooth and eerily calm. "Seagull, you should've stayed put."

Seagull didn't hesitate. He bolted.

Adrenaline drowned out the pain, his body moving purely on survival instinct. His feet pounded against the pavement, weaving through the labyrinth of alleyways as his pursuer's footsteps echoed behind him.

Left. Right. Another turn. His mind calculated the quickest escape routes, his familiarity with the city keeping him just ahead of his hunter. But his body was failing him. He could feel the strength draining from his limbs, the world tilting slightly with every step. He wasn't going to last much longer like this.

Think, dammit!

His eyes darted toward a rusted fire escape, his only chance at disappearing. Without slowing, he launched himself at the ladder, gripping the icy metal as he pulled himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed forward, climbing as fast as he could.

The figure below skidded to a stop, watching him ascend. "This isn't going to change anything," the voice called out, unshaken. "You're already too late."

Seagull's grip faltered for half a second. Too late?

Panic surged through him, but he didn't dare look back. He pulled himself onto the rooftop, chest heaving as he stumbled forward. His escape wasn't over. He had to keep moving.

The rooftops were uneven, old structures barely holding together as he ran across them. He leapt over a gap, landing with a harsh roll that sent another wave of agony through his body. He had to keep going. He had to reach Giselle before—

A gunshot rang out.

Seagull barely had time to react before something hot grazed his side, sending him sprawling onto the rooftop. His hands caught the edge just in time, his body dangling over the ledge as the world spun violently around him.

A second figure emerged below, lowering their weapon. "Tch. Missed."

Seagull's breath was ragged, his fingers tightening on the ledge. He looked down at the alley below—too far to drop safely. His captors were closing in. He was trapped.

No.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to pull up with every ounce of strength he had left. His body protested, muscles trembling from exertion, but he refused to fall.

His feet found solid ground again, and without a second thought, he sprinted.

The streets below blurred into streaks of neon and darkness, the distant sounds of sirens lost to the pounding of his heartbeat. His vision was narrowing, his body reaching its absolute limit.

And then he saw it.

A familiar street. A familiar building.

Giselle.

His chest tightened as he pushed forward, one final burst of energy propelling him forward. He had made it. He had—

The world tilted.

His knees buckled, the last of his strength abandoning him as he collapsed onto the pavement in front of her doorstep.

Blood stained the ground beneath him, his breathing uneven. His vision blurred as he lifted his head, his trembling fingers reaching toward the door.

He barely had the strength to knock.

Then, the door opened.

A pair of wide, shocked eyes met his own. And as the darkness pulled him under, the last thing he heard was Giselle's voice calling his name.