Ryena's Point of View
The silence buzzed with the kind of tension that made your skin itch.
I kicked open the rusted door, the scent of iron and static stinging my nose. My boots echoed in the dim corridor, the flickering ceiling light above me threatening to go out at any moment. Abby was right behind me, hacking into one of the access points with her fingers flying like she was born with keys instead of bones. Hiliana stood guard, eyes scanning every crevice. Tarn lagged with his usual annoyed silence, dragging his feet like a stubborn mule forced to walk into the lion's den.
But it wasn't until I entered that room that my blood ran cold.
He was there.
That man.
Leaning against the far wall like he owned the air, one knee bent, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he was listening to something no one else could hear. He looked different now, dressed in an unmarked uniform, hair damp from sweat or rain, and yet that same icy gaze pinned me like a dagger. Cool. Calculated. Distant.
My eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's you again," I sneered, cocking a brow and placing a hand on my hip. "Didn't expect to find a decorative wallflower like you here."
He didn't respond and just smirk
Tarn moved closer, arms tense. "Who is he?" he asked, low.
"Oh," I said, throwing a sarcastic grin his way, "Just some undercover idiot who thinks he's mysterious. We fought. It was cute."
The man didn't flinch. In fact, he barely looked at me. And for some reason…that made it worse.
"I said, you got something to say or are you just standing there brooding like it's your only personality trait?" I snapped, voice laced with venom.
Still, nothing. Just a calm glance.
Then he spoke—voice cool like sharpened ice. "Entertain Me"
I scoffed. "Over my dead body."
"Enough," Hiliana said quickly, stepping between us with a look that read Not now, bitch.
But it was already too late.
In a blink, the man reached behind him and hurled something toward the electric hub at the far wall. A metallic clink, followed by a beep—then silence.
My heart stopped.
"EVERYONE GET DOWN!" I screamed.
The explosion was instant.
Glass shattered. Sparks flew like wild stars. The electric room behind us erupted in flame, and the lights above us flickered wildly before plunging the entire corridor into choking darkness.
He vanished. Just like that. Smoke. Air. Gone.
"No—NO!" Abby's voice pierced through the chaos, slamming her hands onto the floor. Her screen had blacked out. "He fried the whole power grid!"
Hiliana coughed through the smoke, shielding her face with her sleeve as the sprinklers kicked in with a dull hiss. "Where did he go?!"
"Hell if I know!" I snapped back, pulling myself up. "But he threw a bomb like he was tossing candy!"
Tarn stood, his face grim. "This guy… he's not a guard. He's too precise."
"No shit," I said.
The emergency lights hummed onlow red glow bathing everything in apocalyptic color. The corridor looked like a murder scene walls scorched, wires dangling, smoke thick as tar.
But all I could think about was that man's eyes. Cold. Calculating. But for a flicker of a second—there was something else.
Abby stared at her dead screen. "He took out everything. Our cameras, our back doors, our link to the surveillance system...gone."
Tarn clenched his fists. "We're being watched. Tracked. This whole damn thing might be deeper than we thought."
I stayed quiet.
Because I knew something none of them did.
I felt it.
That man he knew me.
He looked at me like he'd met me before.
And worse?
Something about the way he disappeared… terrified me.
"Ry," Hiliana stepped toward me, brushing a piece of ash from my cheek. "You okay?"
I forced a smirk. "Hili. That bastard just blew up half the system and ghosted, but hey, who doesn't love a little fireworks?"
Abby didn't smile. "We need to move. If he took out this room, the security resets are already being activated. We won't get another chance like this."
Tarn nodded. "We need weapons. Real ones. If this turns into a war, we won't survive with attitude and sass."
"Oh, I don't know," I drawled, flipping my hair as I turned. "My sass is pretty deadly."
Even in the tension, Hiliana laughed. "Gods, Ry. You never change."
"Of course I don't," I grinned, but inside?
Inside, I was spiraling.
Because for the first time since I'd stepped into this hellhole of a prison…
I realized we weren't fighting guards anymore.
We were playing a game we didn't understand.
And someone was always five moves ahead.Suddenly. The ground shook so hard it threw me against a wall.
"What the actual—?" I growled, rubbing my temple, dust coating my hands, grime kissing my cheek like an unwanted lover. The explosion must've hit the main power grid. We were running half-blind now.
The emergency lights blinked in red pulses—like a heartbeat on the verge of a breakdown. Sirens blared, robotic voices echoed warnings, and the whole building seemed to scream.
"Hiliana? Abby?" I called, but my voice only bounced back, unanswered. I glanced around the crumbling corridor, cold metal groaning above me. Of course I got separated. Again. Figures.
I shoved open a rusted side door and stepped into the narrow hallway, wary of shadows dancing in the red light. Somewhere nearby, I heard heavy boots, screams, and weapons clashing. I didn't want to be curious—but being me, I was.
And there he was.
The jerk from earlier. That smug-faced, too-calm-to-be-a-real-guard bastard who nearly broke my wrist. His coat fluttered like a shadow in motion as he took down one guard with a quick, calculated elbow to the throat, then spun to fire at another before they could scream.
I paused mid-step.
"…Oh, you again." I crossed my arms, raising a brow. "You just love being dramatic, huh?"
His silver eyes flicked toward me—cool and unreadable as ever. A curl of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Didn't know you'd miss me this fast."
I scoffed. "Please. I'd rather kiss a rusted pipe."
"You say that, but you keep showing up." He ducked as another guard lunged at him. He grabbed the man's baton mid-air, twisted it, and smacked it against his temple. The guard dropped. "Coincidence, or fate?"
I didn't get the chance to sass back, because suddenly more guards swarmed in—drawn by the scent of rebellion and the noise.
"Oh for f—" I cursed, flipping backward just in time to avoid a taser. "Looks like they think I'm part of this little mutiny of yours."
"You kinda are now," he said smoothly, stepping beside me without missing a beat. "Try not to slow me down, princess."
"Oh, you did not—"
The moment shattered with the clang of boots and snarls of orders. Five guards came at once. He and I moved in sync without even talking.
I went low, he went high.
I jabbed my elbow into one's ribs while he crushed another's windpipe with a swift palm strike. He threw a knife—where the hell did he even get a knife?!—and it landed right between a guard's eyes. I kicked another through a glass panel and rolled beneath a falling beam.
It was disturbingly seamless.
Every motion he made, I naturally countered or matched. It was like we were dancing—albeit a deadly dance. I hated how easy it felt. Like my body trusted him. Like muscle memory I wasn't aware I had.
"What the hell are you?" I muttered as we stood back-to-back, breathing hard, blood and sweat dripping from our faces.
"Someone who loves entertainment," he said coolly.
I turned to look at him, panting. "You're not a guard."
He glanced sideways, wiping blood from his cheek with two fingers. "Smart girl."
"I'm more than just a pretty face and a sharp tongue, you know."
He didn't laugh—but he smiled. Just a flicker. "Oh, I've noticed. Your tongue's sharp enough to cut through steel... You've changed"
We were surrounded again. Reinforcements came—bigger, bulkier, and angry.
"Got any more bombs?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Used the last one," he replied.
"Well, shit." I rolled my neck and clenched my fists. "Guess we go in loud."
"Together?" he said, tone almost teasing.
I looked at him, fire in my chest and chaos in my grin. "Only if you can keep up, sweetheart."
What followed was carnage—a blur of fists, flips, and flying bodies. He moved like a ghost dipped in violence, and I—well, I was my usual bitchy hurricane. Sharp-tongued, quicker than hell, and twice as mean when pissed.
He threw a baton and I caught it midair.
I hurled it through a guard's visor and flashed him a smile. "Thanks, darling."
"You're welcome, trouble."
I almost hated how his voice made something inside me stir—like warmth wrapped in a razor. We weren't friends. We weren't allies. But somehow, in this messed-up night of riots and betrayals, he was the only one I could match stride for stride.
When the last guard fell, choking on his own groan, we stood amidst the ruin—bloodied, bruised, and yet somehow… alive. Thrumming with adrenaline. Breathless.
"You still haven't told me your name," I said, finally catching my breath.
He met my gaze, chest rising and falling.
"I don't think I will," he replied, backing away into the shadows. "Mystery looks better on me."
"You're not wrong," I muttered under my breath, eyes following him.
He vanished again—like smoke dissolving in air. I blinked, and he was gone.
And yet something lingered.
His presence, his gaze… the way we moved like we were trained together. It left a strange ache in my gut—like a forgotten song I somehow remembered the lyrics to.
I wiped the blood from my brow and turned.
"I'm gonna find you again," I whispered into the empty corridor. "And next time, I'm taking the lead."
Because whoever he was guard, rebel, spy, or ghost I knew one thing for sure:
That man was trouble.
And trouble had never looked so goddamn tempting.