The chaos in the room unfolds faster than I can process. Vance moves with precision, but his steps are heavy, driven by desperation. I watch him launch himself at Jaxon, his face set in a grim mask of determination. The woman—her smile now gone, replaced by something darker—slashes at the air with the knife, her movements swift and calculated.
I'm frozen, my heart pounding against my ribs, every nerve screaming at me to move, to do something. But what can I do? I'm not strong enough to fight, not prepared for any of this. All I can do is watch.
Vance and Jaxon collide, and the sound of their struggle fills the room—a mix of grunts, the scrape of boots against the floor, and the harsh clash of bodies. I glance between them and the woman, who steps back, clutching the knife with both hands. Her eyes flicker to me, and for the briefest moment, I feel a surge of fear so raw it nearly paralyzes me.
"She's not what you think she is," Vance grunts, throwing Jaxon off him for just a second, enough to catch his breath. His eyes flick to me for a split second. "Amara, run!"
I don't move. I can't. My feet are planted to the floor, my body unwilling to listen to the command.
Jaxon isn't out of the fight for long. He swings, knocking Vance back, and for a moment, I see the ferocity in his eyes. He's not the boy I thought I knew. He's someone else entirely. Someone terrifying.
"You don't get it, Vance," Jaxon snarls, his voice low and dangerous. "She's mine."
The words slice through the air like a blade, and a chill washes over me. Mine?
Before I can process what that means, the woman steps toward me, the knife glinting menacingly in her hand. She doesn't rush, though. Instead, she walks slowly, purposefully, her eyes locked onto mine, her steps measured, like she's enjoying the fear she's planting inside me.
"You should have stayed out of this, Amara," she says, her voice almost soothing. "But now that you're here, there's no going back."
I try to back away, but there's nowhere to retreat. The walls of the room feel like they're closing in, suffocating me. I glance desperately at Vance, who's still struggling with Jaxon, and then back at the woman, who's now just a few feet away.
She tilts her head slightly, the knife still held firmly in her hand. "Don't worry. This won't hurt... much."
The words seem to hang in the air, and my stomach drops. I feel trapped, cornered. There's no escape, no one to help me. But something inside me snaps, a surge of anger I didn't know I had. I refuse to be a victim.
I dart to the side, grabbing the nearest thing I can find—an old, rusted metal pipe that's been tossed carelessly on the floor. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. My hands shake as I pick it up, and I force myself to focus. I can't let fear control me anymore.
The woman laughs, a cold, mocking sound that cuts through my resolve. "You think that's going to stop me?"
Before I can answer, Vance lunges at Jaxon again, and this time, he's got the upper hand. He tackles Jaxon to the ground with a grunt, his fist coming down in a brutal punch. The sound of their fight drowns out everything else for a moment, and I seize the opportunity.
With everything I have, I swing the pipe at the woman. It connects with her arm, knocking the knife from her hand with a sharp clatter. She stumbles back, surprised by the force of the blow. I don't give her time to recover. I swing again, but this time, she's ready.
She grabs my wrist in a vice-like grip, and for a moment, I'm sure she's going to crush my bones. I gasp, trying to twist free, but she's too strong. Her face is inches from mine, her breath cold and measured.
"You really think you can stop me, Amara?" she sneers, her voice low and dangerous. "You don't even know what you're fighting for."
I force myself to look her in the eyes, trying to ignore the pain in my wrist. "I don't know what I'm fighting for," I spit out, "but I'm not letting you win."
Her expression darkens, and for a second, I see something in her eyes—something like fear. But it's gone in an instant, replaced by pure rage. She pushes me away with such force that I stumble backward, crashing into the desk.
Behind me, I hear Vance shout. "Amara!"
I turn just in time to see Jaxon spring forward, his hands outstretched, grabbing at Vance's throat. The two of them go down in a heap, grappling for control.
I don't know what's happening anymore, what's real, what's not. All I know is that I need to act fast. I can't just stand here while they kill each other.
My eyes flick to the knife on the floor, still within reach. Without thinking, I rush toward it, grabbing it just as the woman lunges toward me again. Her eyes widen when she sees the knife in my hand, and for the first time, I see doubt in her expression.
"You—" she begins, but I don't wait for her to finish. I lunge forward, the knife gripped tightly in my hand.
The woman gasps, barely managing to step out of the way in time, but I'm not aiming for her. I stab the knife into the table, right between her feet, and with a shock, the entire room seems to hold its breath.
She stops, her eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disbelief. "You're playing a dangerous game, Amara," she says, her voice low and deadly.
I don't respond. I don't need to.
Just as the tension in the room reaches its peak, I hear the unmistakable sound of sirens in the distance. They're coming.
But are they here for us? Or are they too late?