A Taste of Fear

The scream sent a shiver down Elena's spine. Not because she feared what was coming—no, she had lived in the dark for too long to be afraid. It was the anticipation that made her pulse quicken.

Damian's jaw tightened. "He's toying with us."

Elena wiped the blood from her knife against her thigh, her voice steady. "That's what he does."

Damian exhaled sharply, his grip firm on his gun. "Then we change the rules."

They moved swiftly, navigating through the maze of rusted machinery and forgotten relics of the past. The scent of metal and decay filled the air, mingling with the lingering traces of gunpowder.

And then—

A flickering light ahead.

Elena slowed, pressing herself against the cold steel wall, Damian mirroring her movements on the opposite side of the narrow corridor.

The flickering glow came from a single hanging lightbulb, swaying gently as if someone had just walked past it.

Beneath the light, a chair.

And in that chair—

A man. Bound. Gagged. Bleeding.

Elena's stomach clenched. She didn't recognize him, but that didn't mean he wasn't important.

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Trap?"

"Of course," Elena murmured.

She stepped forward first, her instincts sharp, every nerve in her body thrumming with awareness.

The man in the chair whimpered as she approached, his face bruised, one eye swollen shut.

And then she saw the message carved into his bare chest:

RUN, ELENA.

Damian cursed under his breath. "Son of a—"

The explosion hit before he could finish.

The force sent them both flying, heat and fire erupting in a violent burst. Elena hit the ground hard, her ears ringing, her vision spinning.

Damian was already dragging her up, his grip iron-strong. "Move!"

Smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating. Flames licked at the walls, the old wood and rusted beams igniting in seconds.

They stumbled toward the exit, but before they could reach it, a voice echoed through the chaos—smooth, amused, and dripping with venom.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Elena froze.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

She knew that voice.

Damian turned sharply, gun raised, but she reached out, grabbing his wrist, stopping him.

Not yet.

Not like this.

Through the haze of smoke, a figure emerged. Casual. Confident. Like a man who had been waiting for this moment.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Hello, darling."

Elena's blood ran hot.

And for the first time in years—

She wasn't sure if she was ready for what came next.