the choice

| MARCELLO |

I sat in the car, engine off and my fingers lightly tapping on the steering wheel. The abandoned building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and stained walls standing as silent witnesses to the crimes that had taken place within. My mission is simple. Observe, report and gather enough evidence to take down the drug dealers who frequented this place. 

I checked my watch. Hour had passed and now its 8pm.The usual time my fellow officers spotted them. But now, there is no sign of them. No shady figures slipping in and out. Just silence. I sigh softly and lean my head back on the car seat.

Okay. Just wait a little longer.

As my eyes glance over the rearview mirror, I caught the movement in distance where three black SUV rolled out from the building's side entrance. Its tinted windows concealing whoever was inside. I tensed at a moment and my instincts sharpening. Something about the way it pulled away. Quick but controlled made my gut tighten. This wasn't just some junkies making a supply run.

As the three SUV passed by, I lean slightly forward, catching a glimpse of the license plate. In one swift motion, I grabbed my notepad and jotted down each one of the SUV plate.

I exhale sharply, leaning back against the seat. 

That was something.

Maybe even enough to track down the owner and get a lead.

I start my engine car. I've done my job. I had a plate number, proof that someone was using this place tonight. But I feel something strange. Something held me back and my heart keep pursuing me to go inside and give some check. I could actually drive away and call it in, but my instinct had keep me alive for years and right now it screamed. There is more inside.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Screw it. I'm gonna go inside and check. If there is any evidence left behind, drug residue, weapons or anything, it could make my work easier.

I slip my gun from its holster, I turn my car engine off and step out. Keeping low as I approach the entrance. The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete and decay. I peered inside, adjusting to the dim light. I swept my flashlight across the room and land on a rusted metal chair tipped over near a dark stain on the ground. My jaw tighten at the sight of blood. Still fresh.

I move deeper, my flashlight flickering over the walls. Faint handprints smeared in red. Drag marks. Something just happened here. I know it. My pulse quickened as I follow the trail. The uneasy weight in my chest growing heavier with every step I took. Then my flashlight caught something up ahead.

A figure. Collapsed on the cold, unforgiving concrete, barely breathing.

I froze. My flashlight hovered over the body. A woman ?

Blood smeared her temple, dark and fresh, trailing down the side of her face. Wrists mark like she had been tied up. Strands of hair stuck to her cheek and her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. My pulse ticked up at the sight. Who the hell is she and why is she being unconscious right here ?

I crouch down beside her, pressing two fingers to her neck. Weak pulse but steady. She wasn't dead. Not yet.

I scan the area, flashlight darting into the shadows. No sign of anyone else. No immediate threats. Just the eerie stillness of an abandoned crime scene. This isn't right.

This building was suppose to be drug exchange hotspots. I came here expecting criminals, not a half-dead girl dump like discarded evidence. My jaw clench as my mind race through the possibilities. A victim ? An informant ? A trap ?

I run my hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. 

The right thing to do is clear, call it in. Report her to my team, let the hospital take over. It wasn't my case, and I'm sure as hell wasn't supposed to get involve. 

But something about this didn't sit right.

Whoever left her here didn't just want her dead. They wanted her to disappear. A body dumped in a place like this meant someone thought she wasn't worth finding. And if I report her, whoever tried to kill her would know she is still breathing.

I should walk away. I should let the system handle it. I should.

But instead, I found myself pulling off my jacket, draping it over her before carefully slipping arms under her legs and lifting her off the ground. She is lighter than I expected, but the warmth of her skin against mine sent a strange unease through me. 

This is reckless. Stupid, even.

I glanced towards the exit. My mind still screaming at me to turn back, to make the call. But my feet were already moving.

"Damn it," I muttered, tightening on her as I carried her toward my car. "Guess I'm breaking some protocol tonight."

I carefully laid her down in the back seat before sliding into the driver's seat and pulling away from the area.

----------------------

The drive back felt longer than usual. Every few minutes, I would glance at the unconscious woman at the back seat. Her face barely illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights passing by. She hadn't stirred once, her breathing shallow but steady. The dried blood on her temple look worse under the harsh interior lighting of my car. 

What the hell was I thinking ? 

I should've taken her to the hospital. That was the logical choice. The smart choice. Instead. I had her in my car, heading back to my place like some idiot who let his gut take over instead of his training.

I sigh, gripping the wheel tighter.

Who is she ? Why is she dumped in that building ? And more importantly, who want her dead ?

The thoughts swirled in my head as I pulled into my driveway. Shutting off the engine. For a moment, I just sat there, hands on the wheel, exhaling slowly. Then I step out and move to the back seat before carefully lifting her into my arms. 

She barely weighed anything, her body limp against my chest. The warmth of my penthouse was a stark contrast to the cold night air as I stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

As I get inside my penthouse, I set her down gently on my couch. Adjusting the cushions beneath her head. The warmth of my penthouse contrast sharply with the cold night air, but she didn't flinch or stir. Her skin was still too pale.

I grab my first aid kit on the cabinet and crouch beside her. The gash on her forehead had stopped bleeding, but it need cleaning. With careful hands, I dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton pad and pressed it against the wound.

She flinch slightly but didn't wake. A small, barely-there movement, but it made my chest tighten. Good. She feels it.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"What the hell is happening to you ?" I muttered under my breath.

No answer. Not that I expected one.

Up close, the bruises on her wrists were worse than I first thought. Like she had been tied up. A struggle? A kidnapping? I had no damn clue. Just more questions piling up.

As I work, I found myself studying her face. She looked... normal. Not the type to be mixed up with the kind of people I was investigating. But I knew better than to trust appearances.

I soaked a cloth in warm water, wiping the blood and grime from her face. My fingers hovered over her jaw for a second before I pull away.

I sit back on the couch, exhaling sharply. I need answers.

And when she woke up, I'm going to get them.