The fog still clung to the alley like a living thing, curling around corners, hiding shadows, and making every sound feel amplified. I pressed myself against the brick wall, knife ready, ears straining for any hint of the hunters' approach. Travis crouched beside me, his pale blue eyes scanning the darkness with unnerving calm.
"Okay," he whispered, voice low but teasing, "this is dramatic, yes. But I like dramatic. Makes my job more… interesting."
I shot him a glare. "You always find a way to make near-death experiences sound fun."
He grinned, brushing a hand over my damp hair. "Because it's more fun with company."
The fog shifted, and I caught movement at the far end of the alley. Hunters. Two of them, fast, calculated, coordinating. I pressed back against the wall, trying to control my pulse. The adrenaline roared, but there was a strange clarity, a cold focus I only felt when survival was a heartbeat away.
"On my count," Travis whispered, glancing at me. "We're going to create a little… chaos. Then we run."
I nodded, trusting him, though the knot in my stomach tightened. He reached for a loose piece of metal—a broken pipe—and grinned. "Minor theater of war. You'll love it."
He stepped out first, tossing the pipe like a rock in a fountain. It clanged loudly against the dumpster, sparks flying, and the hunters froze, startled. I darted forward, knives ready, following his lead as we sprinted down the alley, the fog swallowing our movements.
"See? I told you drama makes everything more exciting," he shouted over the wind.
I laughed breathlessly despite the fear. "You're insane!"
"And adorable when scared," he countered, sliding his hand into mine mid-run. The brief touch sent warmth racing through me, grounding me amid chaos.
We ducked into a narrow side street, the fog now thick enough to mask our presence but not our nerves. My lungs burned, legs pumping, but every glance at Travis reminded me we weren't just surviving—we were alive together, and that mattered more than anything.
At a corner, he yanked me behind a stack of crates. The hunters' voices echoed, close now, organizing, strategizing.
"Two left behind," I whispered. "They're splitting up. We can use that."
Travis's grin returned, devilish and infuriating. "Exactly. Divide and conquer. Like a well-choreographed dance… only we're the only ones who know the steps."
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're ridiculous."
He leaned close, brushing his lips against my temple. "And effective. You'd be dead if I wasn't here."
"Lucky me," I murmured, heart hammering.
We ran again, sticking to shadows, vaulting over fences, ducking into abandoned buildings when the hunters neared. Every moment was a mixture of terror and adrenaline-fueled exhilaration. Yet amid it all, Travis's hand found mine again and again, a tether I couldn't—and didn't want to—let go of.
At one point, he pressed me against a wall in a narrow alley, the fog wrapping us like a veil. "Breathe," he whispered, eyes intense. "You're alive. And we're together."
I leaned into him, letting the tension of the chase and the intimacy of his touch blend into something dangerous and intoxicating. "Together," I echoed, voice low.
His hand slid down my back, firm and grounding, and his lips brushed mine in a brief, charged kiss. "Even when the world wants to eat us alive," he murmured, his breath hot against my cheek.
I swallowed, letting the moment linger. Hunters could be anywhere, yet here, in the middle of the fog, there was warmth, connection, trust. A reminder that survival wasn't just about escaping—they were tethered, alive because of each other.
The chase continued. We vaulted over trash cans, leapt across alleyways, and slid down fire escapes, barely making a sound, adrenaline and fear sharpening our senses. Every whispered joke from Travis, every small touch, kept the terror from overwhelming me.
Finally, we ducked into a collapsed building, breaths ragged, hearts hammering. The interior smelled of mildew and rot, but it was quiet—too quiet. I pressed my back to the wall, knife ready, scanning the shadows.
Travis leaned against me, fingers brushing mine again. "We made it… for now," he murmured. "But the hunters aren't done."
I nodded, chest rising and falling, adrenaline still spiking. "We need a plan. They're organized, smarter than ever. And if that weapon rumor is true… we can't underestimate them."
He brushed damp strands of hair from my face, his touch intimate despite the danger. "We improvise. Adapt. Survive. Like we always do."
A faint sound reached my ears—a metallic scrape, deliberate, slow. My stomach dropped. Someone was moving closer, tracking us, precise and methodical.
Travis's eyes hardened. "Hunters. Close. Too close."
I swallowed, tightening my grip on the knife. "They're not going to catch us."
"Not if I can help it," he murmured, pressing a quick, fleeting kiss to my temple before grabbing my hand. "Follow me. Trust me."
We slipped through a narrow passage, emerging into an overgrown lot. The fog obscured everything, but movement at the edges told me we were still being followed. Hunters were patient, adapting, and ruthless.
Travis pressed close, brushing his lips against my ear. "We've got one chance here. One. And it's going to be… messy. But effective."
I nodded, heart hammering, adrenaline roaring, fingers tangled with his. "Let's do it."
He grinned, eyes glinting in the fog. "Drama. Danger. Chaos. My kind of night."
We surged forward, every movement precise, every breath controlled. But just as we thought we were free, a shadow detached itself from the mist—a hunter, blade raised, blocking the only escape route.
I froze, chest tight. Travis pulled me back, but the hunter's presence was unavoidable.
"Travis…" I whispered, voice trembling.
He pressed his forehead to mine, fingers tangled in mine. "No matter what… we survive. Together."
The fog swirled around us, hunters closing in, and I realized for the first time in the night: we might not make it out this time.
And then the shadow lunged.