surviving

~kyara's pov~

The air in the dimly lit warehouse hung thick with the acrid stench of blood and gunpowder, an overwhelming miasma. At first, I counted five figures huddled in the shadows, but with every gunshot that rang out, more silhouettes emerged, drawn by the chaos like bees to honey.

"Damn it! Where the hell are Luther and the others when I need them?" Liam growled, frustration and fear lacing his voice. A wave of guilt washed over me; I longed to confess that it was my reckless choice that led us here, but the words lodged in my throat.better to play safe here first.

Scattered across the concrete floor were bodies—some crumpled and lifeless, others still convulsing in the throes of death. The reality of my escape plan felt like a cruel joke; I had fled my parents' house to escape this very nightmare, yet here I was, neck-deep in gang warfare. My heartbeat drummed in my ears. The entire scene was steeped in an eerie silence, as if the world held its breath, waiting for someone to make a move.

We crept forward, the light gradually fading into a deeper twilight; the shadows danced around us. Just as I began to relax, Liam yanked me sharply, pulling me behind a precarious stack of crates. A bullet whizzed past us, embedding itself into the metal wall with a deafening crack. I recoiled instinctively, locking eyes with Liam, my heart racing. That could have been my head!

"We have to keep moving!" Liam hissed, his voice low and urgent, the intensity in his gaze cutting through the darkness like a knife. "They're gaining on us."

A beam of light suddenly sliced through the room, illuminating the dust motes suspended in the air like tiny stars. A gruff, impatient voice reverberated through the shadows, causing my stomach to churn with dread.

"I don't think they're here," one voice muttered, scepticism lacing his tone.

"Keep searching," snapped another. "We can't let them get away."

"They can't be far," came the insistence, and I could hear the ominous sound of boots scraping against the gritty floor, pacing with a predatory rhythm.