Chapter 5: Ghosts Don’t Stay Dead
Rain blurred the neon lights of Ravenport, smearing crimson and gold across the slick alley walls as Damien stepped between Elara and the gunman.
No hesitation.
One breath. One pivot.
Bang.
A clean shot ripped through the night.
The man behind the dumpster cried out, dropping to the ground, clutching his shoulder. But Damien didn't relax. His instincts screamed louder than the thunder.
There was another.
"Elara, run," he said, voice low and deadly calm, eyes never leaving the dark.
"I'm not leaving you," she snapped back.
Before he could argue, another figure emerged from the rain—taller, broader, armored in tactical black, pistol raised without tremor.
Damien's breath caught.
That face.
That scar. Jagged. Burned into memory.
"Marcus?" he whispered.
The man smiled—a cold, broken thing.
"You should've stayed dead," he said.
Then added, with a cruel smirk:
"But then again… so should I."
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Flashback – 6 Years Ago
Screams tore through the compound. The building crumbled around them, every breath soaked in blood and smoke.
Damien dragged Marcus through the collapsing hallway, his own shoulder dislocated, lungs burning.
"I've got you!" he shouted.
But the explosion hit.
Concrete. Fire.
Silence.
And Damien… never looked back.
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Now – Ravenport Alley
"You left me to die," Marcus snarled, stepping closer.
Damien's grip on the gun tightened. "I saw your body. Buried in rubble."
"No," Marcus spat. "You saw what you wanted to see."
A shot rang out.
A bullet grazed Damien's arm, blood mixing with rain. He spun and fired back, fast and clean, while shoving Elara behind a trash bin.
"Stay down!"
But she didn't cower.
Elara drew a pistol from her coat—small, illegal, shaking in her grip.
Her eyes were wild. Confused.
"Damien, what the hell is going on?!"
"You're not supposed to understand," he snapped.
Marcus laughed darkly.
"She doesn't know, does she?"
"Shut up," Damien warned.
"She doesn't know what you did to her brother."
The world stopped.
Even the rain seemed to hold its breath.
Elara's hand lowered.
Her voice trembled.
"...What did he just say?"
Damien's pulse pounded in his ears.
Not now.
Not here.
Not like this.
"Elara, he's lying. He's twisting everything—"
"Did you kill my brother?!"
The question cracked like lightning between them.
Silence fell.
Louder than the storm.
Damien opened his mouth—
To explain, to deny, to beg—
Bang.
A single shot tore through the alley.
Marcus's head jerked back.
He collapsed to the wet concrete.
Dead.
Damien's eyes shot up to the rooftops—but they were empty.
Nothing but shadows.
Then, a whisper crackled th
rough his earpiece—distorted, familiar.
"Your past isn't the only thing watching you… Nyx."
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To be continued…
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