Clara
I try to gasp for air as the rope around my neck feels tighter but I'm like inhaling through a straw.
A girl beside me is in the same predicament, her eyes bulging from their sockets like marbles. Her hands are clawing at her throat, desperately trying to loosen the rope.
We're going to die...
I'm doing the same thing, my fingers scratching at the rope around my neck. I can feel my consciousness slipping away, my vision beginning to blur at the edges.
I'm...going to die!
Please...stop this. Enough already! Wake up!
I close my eyes. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. Get...ahold of yourself.
It's your dream, and you are in control!
Suddenly the ropes snap, and we fall to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. I look at the girl, and she mirrors my surprised expression.
My eyes fly open, dragging me back to reality. Sweat clings to my skin, making my clothes feel damp and clammy, while my hair is plastered to my forehead.
Did I finally control my dream?
But the celebration is short-lived as I try to move and realize that I'm bound. My hands and feet are tied behind me, the rope digging into my skin. I try to struggle, but it's no use.
I take in my surroundings. The walls are grey concrete, and the floor is covered in a thin layer of dust, disturbed only by the scattered remnants of old furniture and boxes. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling like they've been here for decades.
This is a basement. Once again, I'm waking up tied in a basement. Just perfect.
"Alister! Where are you!?" I whisper-shout. I don't want to alert anyone, but the panic is clawing its way up my chest.
Then I see him—his body lying limp on the floor. He's bound too, wrists behind his back, and ankles tied.
"Hey!" I call again, forcing myself to move. I twist, dragging my body across the floor inch by inch as every movement scrapes my skin.
"Hey! Wake up!" I get as close to his ear as I can, my voice shaking as I try to rouse him. But it doesn't work. His body remains unresponsive.
"Alister! We gotta get out of here!" I whisper-yell again while nudging him with my head, pressing it against his shoulder to get a reaction. But there's no movement. His body doesn't even flinch.
Closing my eyes, I steel myself. Then, without hesitation, I slam my forehead down onto his.
The impact is jarring, and the force reverberates through my skull.
His eyes snap open, wide with shock, and his face contorts in pain. A low groan escapes his lips, at the sudden assault.
"Ughhh… What is wrong with you?" He blinks a few times, trying to clear the fog from his mind, before attempting to move, only to freeze as he realizes he's been bound.
"He's keeping us here in the basement!" I cry out. I wince at the throb in my forehead, but I ignore the pain. We have bigger problems.
He surveys the room. His gaze sweeps over the dingy walls and the light from the small window far above us. His face hardens as the memories come flooding back.
"How long have we been out?" He grunts as he struggles to sit up.
"I don't know. I just woke up. But let's look around. We need something sharp to cut the ropes." I glance around the room at the old boxes and discarded furniture in the far corner, all of it cloaked in dust and cobwebs. The only source of light is that tiny window high up on the wall.
"My knives..." Alister mutters, staring down at his lap, with a frown. I hear the disappointment in his voice before I even see it in his eyes—the bitter frustration of being rendered powerless.
He suddenly makes an irritated expression as if I've said something to offend him. But I haven't said a word.
"Our plan backfired." I sigh as I look up at the window. We could reach it if we stacked some furniture on top of each other and climbed it.
He clicks his tongue and looks down at his shoes. "In our defense, we didn't know there were more people in the house. And from the way he didn't even mention that fact, the way he sized us up when we entered the house just at the mention of gems, didn't seem like he was planning on letting us go that easily. This is how he intended on things to go down from the start."
He says it plainly, like it's just fact. But there's something softer in his voice. An edge that sounds like he's trying to reassure me. I don't know whether he actually believes what he's saying or not, though.
"Right. Let's focus on getting out of here then." I say, scanning the room again—boxes, broken furniture, dusty shelves, shadows crawling along the floor.
Then I spot it. Tucked under a sagging table, almost hidden from view—an old wall mirror.
Perfect.
I start scooting toward it. Awkwardly and slowly pushing myself towards it. "If we break that mirror over there," I say, nodding toward it. "We can use the shards to cut the ropes. I'll cut mine and then untie you. After that, we could stack that chair on top of—"
I pause, catching movement out of the corner of my eye. Alister isn't looking at the mirror. He's focused on his sneaker. Specifically, a small square cutout on the heel of his grey shoe. A flap.
He pries it open to reveal a tiny hidden compartment tucked inside. I quietly watch as he pinches something with his fingers and slowly pulls it out.
"What's that?" I ask.
And then it gleams in the low light as he draws it out fully.
A thin knife.
"You hid a knife in your shoe?" I blink at him, half in disbelief, half impressed. "Seriously? You came in here already expecting to be tied up?"
"Of course not!" He clarifies. "I just didn't rule it out. One can never be too prepared for contingencies."
I huff a laugh, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, why not just make one good plan instead of coming up with a million backups and 'contingencies'?"
He rolls his eyes. "One needs to account for the unpredictability of life. That things might not go that way. Too many variables that might interfere." He leans forward, shifting so he can reach his wrists with the blade, before beginning to slice the rope.
I look towards the mirror again and resume inching toward it. If he's got the knife, then I'll grab a shard. We can both cut ourselves loose faster that way.
"So what I'm hearing," I say as I move. "Is that you don't trust your own plans to work out. That's just sad."
"You know," he mutters, focusing on the ropes. "You don't really need to talk right now."
I grin. "Why not?"
"Look, we're both in the same situation, so get off your high horse. Just shut up and focus on getting out of here." He growls, clearly annoyed, which makes my grin wider.
Suddenly my heart skips a beat as the basement door opens. The sharp groan of rusted hinges echoes off the stone walls, followed by the thump of boots descending the stairs.
I freeze, my eyes fixed on the stairway as I try to gauge the number of people coming towards us. Two? No...three.
The sound of the footsteps grows louder, and I can hear the murmur of voices.
"...boy does sound suspicious..." I hear one of them say.
I glance at Alister, pulse hammering in my ears. He doesn't look tense, nor does he even pretend to be afraid. If anything, his face tightens with irritation, like this whole thing is beneath him. His eyes flicker briefly to the stairway before he clicks his tongue. Without a word, he shifts his foot and pushes the knife toward me. It slides over the floor, glinting as it spins to a stop just inches from my knees.
I stare at him, wide eyed. What are you doing?
I could have distracted them—said something, yelled, anything—while he freed himself, fought them off and we could have gotten away.
Then I realize... they were talking about him. Their focus is on him. He knows it. And he was probably thinking the same thing I did.
Still, he's a fool. I could have still diverted their attention to me. Now what am I supposed to do once I free myself. I can't fight them off. I'll need to think of something later.
I grab the blade and tuck it behind me.
"Turn invisible and escape." Alister whispers lightly. I frown, ignoring him as I begin slicing.
"Are these the kids?" The first man steps into view—scruffy, the kind of man who probably hasn't seen a toothbrush in days. His sleeves rolled to reveal arms lined with tattoos and angry red scrapes. He eyes us like we're items on a shelf.
The burly man from earlier—our kidnapper—joins him and gives a firm nod. "Yup. These are the ones Samuel gave the gems to."
"You better be right about that. You already caused us trouble with the police during the incident with his murder." Says the man in the raincoat, his voice clipped and nasal. His beige coat looks too clean, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping to the end of his nose.
"We lied, okay!" Alister suddenly shouts. Everyone's head snaps toward him. "We lost the gems. The reason we came here was to get more of them."
I lower my head again as the blade trembles in my hands. I focus on the last fiber of the rope on my wrist. One last fray...
"Is that true?" Raincoat asks, turning slightly to address the others.
"Don't worry." The burly man says with smug confidence as he steps forward. "He's lying. They do have it—they just won't give it to me." He gestures toward Alister with a grin. "See? I told you these gems were valuable. No wonder they are so obsessed."
"But doesn't a ransom seem like too much?" the scruffy guy mutters, leaning toward the kidnapper. "I mean, do you really want to attract more attention?"
Finally—snap. The rope gives way, and my wrists fall free.
I waste no time—my fingers dive toward the bindings around my ankles. The rope there is thicker, and coarser. I dig the knife in harder, forcing it between the twisted strands, sawing back and forth with urgency.
"Trust me." the burly man persists, still selling his plan like a desperate street vendor. "It'll all be worth it. Those jewels could be sold for thousands of dollars. Don't you want some of that?"
The other two glance at each other, uncertainty dancing in their eyes. Greed and doubt tug at them in equal measure.
"Interesting." Alister says with a slow smirk "It seems he's only willing to share if there's risk involved."
The men pause. Eyebrows lift and confusion ripples through the group.
"What do you mean?" The scruffy man asks, defensively.
"I just that," Alister shrugs lazily. "If we did have the gems, and we did give them to him upstairs… would he really have shared the profit with you two?"
The men go still. He's planting seeds of doubt, scattering them with precision.
I keep sawing. The rope at my feet is starting to loosen with each stroke of the blade.
Alister leans forward slightly. "Doesn't it seem like he just got you involved in this because it's a risky mess and he didn't want to sink alone? Doesn't this kind of remind you of Samuel's death? You were both investigated, weren't you? Even though you had no clue what was going on—just because this guy said he was hanging out with you. Involving people in messes must be his thing."
"That's enough!" The kidnapper snaps, glaring at Alister with a flicker of unease. "Sure, I'm involving my friends, but they'll get their share of the reward."
"Really?" Alister replies as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk—as if he's daring the man to lie. "Then how will you split the reward if you do manage to somehow magically find the gems? I mean, shouldn't you get the biggest share? You're the one who caught us, right? You're the one who even bought the gems using your own money."
He lets the implication hang in the air like smoke.
The scruffy man's brow furrows, suspicion clouding his face. " You weren't thinking that, were you?"
"No!" the kidnapper says forcefully. "I'll be using your services, so of course it'll be split equally." The lie comes out fast. Too fast.
The rope around my feet is almost severed now. I feel the tension in it shifting.
"You better stay true to your word." Raincoat says suddenly as his fingers twitch against the seams of his coat. "Or else we've got aces up our sleeves too."
"I've heard enough of this!" The scruffy man snaps, suddenly lunging toward Alister, malice darkening his eyes like storm clouds. "You're going to tell us where the gems are, or we'll make you regret it." His hand grips Alister's shirt, lifting him off the ground.
Alister remains calm but I can see a flicker of worry in his eyes. That human moment he hates people catching. The one he hides behind seriousness and clever words.
It reminds me of that day at the field.
The rope snaps and I don't hesitate. I spring up like a loaded trap, snatching the round mirror near me in one smooth motion. My feet hit the floor, the rush of adrenaline dulling the pain in my joints while I grit my teeth in rage. They haven't noticed. Their focus is still on Alister.
I charge. The mirror shatters against the scruffy man's head, exploding like a burst of stars. His eyes widen in pure, startled shock. He stumbles back, legs buckling beneath him as though the floor dropped out from under him.
I stand over him, chest heaving with exertion, my hand still clenched around the now-broken mirror. I look down at him, blood trailing from a cut above his brow.
"Don't you dare touch him." The words hiss through my teeth like venom, and for a second, neither of the other two move.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach behind my back and toss the knife toward Alister.
My hand is still gripping the jagged mirror frame, but I feel the sting of the glass cutting in to my palm. Blood begins to trickle down, but I don't flinch. I can't afford to. I simply adjust my grip, holding the mirror frame by the base, from a safer side.
I step forward, trying to look braver than I feel.
"How did she-?" The raincoat man utters in disbelief as the guy I punched starts to get up. The kidnapper just sneers at me, his face twisted in contempt. "You think you can take on all three of us?" He says.
I smirk, hopefully appearing confident. "Why not? Seems pretty easy."
I'm not a fighter. I can shoot, but close combat is not something I'm good at. Still, I need to atleast put up a fight while Alister frees himself.
I rush towards the raincoat guy as he seems the easiest option, swinging the frame in a wide arc toward his face. He's caught off guard but he's quick and dodges. Just narrowly avoiding the blow. He tries to counter with a punch, but I twist away, avoiding the strike by inches. I take another swing at him, this time connecting with his shoulder. He stumbles back, but recovers quickly, sneering at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the burly man step forward, and before I can react, he lands a punch square into my stomach. The air whooshes out of me, and I double over, gasping for breath. My hands instinctively drop to my midsection, and the mirror frame slips from my grip.
I step back, clutching my stomach. My body is on fire from the impact, but I force myself to stand up straight.
I should use my ability and go invisible. Stab their legs and slice their achilles heel with the glass. Render them immobile.
That's what I should do.
But just as I'm about to focus on activating my ability, a hand rests on my back, and I stiffen. Alister is standing beside me, but it's his eyes that steal my attention. They're blazing with fury, glowing silver like his nails, a dangerous fire simmering behind them.
"Get out, you reckless idiot." He says calmly, but I can hear the controlled violence in it. "I'll handle this."
There's something in the way his pupils glow, something in the way his jaw is clenched—he's itching for a fight. He wants to murder them.
I bite my lip, hesitant, and then my voice slips out in a whisper. "Don't kill them."
His questioning gaze drifts towards me. The brief flicker of anger flares in his eyes before it settles into something more dangerous.
"It'll be a bigger mess since our evidence is all over the place." I add quickly, trying to explain. I don't want to sound like I'm pleading for their lives, but this—this is about us. I don't want it to get out of control.
For a moment, I think he's going to ignore me. That he's going to let his anger get the better of him. But then his face relaxes slightly as he lets out a defeated sigh.
"Fine." He says as he raises up a broken leg of a chair in his hands. "Wait for me outside."
I rush toward the basement stairs, my heart pounding in my chest. Every step urging me closer to escape, when I hear the sound of heavy footsteps thundering behind me.
I quicken my pace, taking the steps two at a time.
Behind me, I hear Alister shout—"Lock the door!"—followed by the sickening sound of a punch landing.
I burst through the basement door and throw my entire weight into it, slamming it shut. I fumble for the bolt, shoving it into place just as someone crashes into the door from the other side.
Loud banging echoes throughout the house as I look around the room for my gun. Scanning every corner of the room like a hawk.
Then I hear soft footsteps.
I whirl around and spot her. A woman with a braid.
Gaunt. Fragile. Sunken cheeks and hollow eyes that carry the weight of years of quiet suffering. She's standing outside the room, staring at me like I'm a ghost.
I'm on her in an instant. I close the distance and slam her against the wall, my hand gripping the collar of her worn grey sweater. Her bones feel like twigs beneath my fingers. Some of the blood from my hands stains her clothes.
"I'm not going to hurt you unless I have to." I say quickly as she stares at me, terrified. "Where's the gun? Where did you put it?"
She shakes her head, lips trembling. I hate doing this. She looks like she's been through hell already. But Alister's down there with them. I don't have time to be soft.
"Speak up." I say, my grip tightening. "He will kill them all if I don't stop him and then he'll kill you. Tell me where the gun is."
Her chin wobbles. "T-top drawer… showcase… c-corner." She stammers.
I release her instantly, rushing across the room. I rip open the top drawer and there it is—a black pistol nestled between old newspapers and loose change. Bullets spill beneath it. I load four into the chamber, slam it shut, and spin around.
The loud banging on the door had long stopped by the time the woman arrived. I take a deep breath, unlock it, and step inside.
As I descend the stairs, the metallic stench of blood and sweat hits me. The men lie sprawled on the ground—one clutching a broken arm, the other groaning with the knife jutting out of his thigh.
But the kidnapper is in worse condition. The shards of glass stabbed all over his limbs and his right arm, the one he hit me with, is badly broken and twisted at an odd angle. Blood spills from his nose as he lays unconscious.
Well… at least they're not dead.
Alister stands in the center of the chaos, breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling like he's been holding the world up. His shirt is torn from the side and his knuckles bloodied. No visible signs of a bruise or swelling. His beautiful face is fine too.
He turns his head, eyes finding mine.
"What are you doing here?" he demands hoarsely. "I told you to wait outside."
I open my mouth to respond, but the words freeze when I catch movement by his feet.
The scruffy guy lying beside him surges to life, grabbing Alister's ankle and yanking hard.
He crashes down and before he can react, the man throws an arm across his chest, pinning him to the floor. His other hand lifts the crowbar, ready to strike.
I aim and squeeze the trigger.
The shot cracks through the room, and the bullet slams into the crowbar. It jerks from the man's grip, spinning through the air before clattering harmlessly to the ground.
Alister wastes no time shoving the man's arm off, scrambling to his feet, and then slamming his shoe across the man's face in a savage kick. There's a sickening crunch as his nose breaks, and the man goes unconscious.
Alister exhales, standing over the body for a moment before looking back at me.
"You're welcome." I say dryly, lowering the gun.
He scowls. "Still didn't need your help."
I smile in return. "Still don't know how to say thank you, huh?" I tease.
Not bothering to smile back, he bends down, yanking his knife out of the man's thigh. Blood seeps out slowly as he wipes the blade clean on the guy's shirt.
Suddenly his eyes go wide and he starts coughing, I watch in horror as the hand he covered his mouth with, is stained with blood.
"What...what's happening..." I trail off as I start climbing down the stairs towards him. Did he get stabbed? Is he bleeding internally?
I grab the hem of his shirt, aiming to check the damage myself. Yet before I can lift up, he quickly pulls my hand away uncomfortably. "It's...just a side effect. Nothing serious."
I hesitate and nod "Ok...Let's get out of here then."
As we make our way to the living room, I spot the woman clinging to the door of the kitchen, looking at us with fearful eyes.
"Who's this?" Alister asks curiously.
"I'll deal with her. Your knives and bag are in that top drawer."
I walk towards her, cautiously, making sure she isn't holding any weapons in her hands.
"Look. The men are alive but unconscious. The man who lives here is bleeding all over. You can call an ambulance or treat them yourself. But I'm sure you must know better than anyone that you people are involved in shaddy stuff. So, don't get the police involved and you'll never have to see us again." I calmly tell her.
"And if you decide to come after us personally, I won't be that merciful. Make sure to tell them that." Alister chimes in after taking all his knives along with some things from a nearby firstaid kit.
That was mercy?
We bolt out the door before any neighbors come nosing around, especially after a gunshot like that.
Outside, the world feels colder. Chilly wind snakes around us, tugging at our clothes. The sky overhead is an angry slate gray, clouds swirling as if the whole sky's holding its breath. It smells like flowers and wet earth—like nature itself is on edge.
We hit the ground running, our footsteps echoing through the quiet street. I glance sideways at Alister. His face is set, focused—but there's a flicker of something else too.
I suck in a breath, still processing it all. "I just shot a man."
He quirks an eyebrow at me. "You shot a crowbar."
"Alister... I shot a man." I repeat, ignoring the correction. "And I saved you."
He doesn't miss a beat. "After distracting me, that is. Don't get ahead of yourself."
That tone—dry and impossible—combined with the insane whirlwind we just lived through, cracks something inside me.
I burst out laughing.
It's wild and loud and a little unhinged. It spills from my chest without permission, and I can't stop it. Alister turns his head slowly, staring like I've officially lost it.
He tries to fight it, lips twitching with resistance, but it's there— a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite trying to stay indifferent.
We slow to a stop at a quiet bus stop next to a streetlamp, our chests rising and falling in tandem as we suck in gulps of air. I bend forward, hands on my knees, trying to stop laughing. The adrenaline still pulses hot in my veins, but the near-hysterical joy of our escape is fading, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.
Alister leans against the bus sign, face tilted toward the sky, trying to catch his breath
"Find out the address he gave us. And call an Uber." He says, pulling out my phone from the satchel and passing to me before sitting on the bench with elbows on his knees.
I power it on and exhale in relief. Only thirty minutes had passed since we were knocked out. Not bad. Three missed calls from Mom flash at the top. I ignore them along with the feeling of unease, and call an uber.
After a few minutes, Alister suddenly reaches over and takes my hand in his.
I blink, startled, as he turns it palm-up and narrows his eyes at the dried blood crusted on the cut. It's not that deep but it is long.
"Do you really see me as weak and incompetent?" He asks. Frustration simmers beneath the words, as if he's been holding them in too long.
Before I can answer, he unscrews a water bottle from the bag, one I recognise was on the coffee table, and pours it over my hand. The cold rush makes me flinch. He doesn't apologize. Just pulls out a tissue and starts wiping away the blood.
"Of course not. Just because—" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"I'm a murderer." He says, eyes still locked on my hand as he works. "Going forward, don't ever forget that. I've dealt with worse than this. I don't need you stepping in like I'm helpless. I don't need your help, or your sympathy." He grabs the antiseptic and soaks a tissue, then presses it to the wound without warning.
"Ah—ow, damn it!" I hiss, jerking slightly at the sting.
"So stop making a fool of yourself." He mutters, ignoring my reaction as he wraps a clean bandage around my hand.
I stare at him, half-exasperated, half amused. "You're such a classic case of cognitive dissonance, you know that?" I say. "Trying so hard to act like a villain, and then doing something like this."
He doesn't look up. "I'm not acting. I'm...making it even."
I smile. "Aha! So you admit I saved you. I knew you would. You're not fooling me, Wyatt."
He finishes the wrap, tightening the end. "That's the problem, I suppose." He says under his breath.
His thumb brushes across the bandage absentmindedly, and I catch the softness in the gesture.
"You know, I'm not that weak either. If only you'd let me distract them and got yourself free, you could have knocked them out and we'd be out of there faster." I sigh as I look at the time. That confrontation could have ended quickly and in a less messy way that would have decreased the risk of them looking for revenge.
"Let you distract?" He turns to me, incredulous.
I tilt my chin up, smiling proudly "I can create distractions too."
His gaze lingers on my face, then lowers—slowly—dragging down the length of me before looking away to his left. "No doubt" he mutters as he tries to hide a smirk.
That wipes the smile right off my face as I swallow hard. I force a light tone as I wave the bandaged hand infront of me. "Are you ever going to give me a chance to patch you up, too?" I tease. "Or are we just gonna pretend you're invincible?"
He looks at me briefly and just scoffs as he starts putting the supplies back.
"Maybe one day."