Chapter 0037 – The Race Against Time
The city lights blurred past as Alexander sped through the nearly deserted streets, his grip like steel on the steering wheel. The note left at his doorstep had been simple, chilling.
"Midnight. The old harbor. Come alone. No second chances."
His gut screamed trap. But Claire was out there. And he would burn the world to find her.
His phone buzzed again. Another blocked number. He answered, voice sharp. "Where is she?"
A distorted chuckle slithered through the speaker. "Still breathing. For now."
His blood turned to ice. "If you touch her—"
"Tick-tock, Alexander. You're wasting time."
Then the call cut.
Alexander's jaw clenched as he pressed the gas harder.
He was running out of time.
Somewhere in the Depths of Darkness…
Claire fought against the ropes cutting into her wrists, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The damp air of the warehouse reeked of rust and oil. A flickering bulb overhead cast long shadows across the cold concrete.
The masked man stood in the doorway, watching.
He hadn't spoken in minutes, only observing—silent, calculating.
Then, finally, he moved.
A slow, deliberate step. The knife in his hand gleamed under the dim light.
"You've been very stubborn, Claire," he murmured. "But let's see how long that lasts."
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating.
"Alexander won't let you get away with this," she spat, wrists twisting behind her, desperately searching for anything—anything—that could help.
The man tilted his head. "Oh, I'm counting on him coming."
He dragged the knife along the wooden armrest of her chair, the sound making her skin crawl.
"And when he does…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "He'll have a choice to make."
Claire's stomach twisted.
"What choice?" she demanded.
But he only smiled.
Then, without warning, he lunged.
The blade sliced through the air—Claire yanked herself sideways.
The chair toppled over with a loud crash. Pain exploded in her shoulder, but she didn't stop. Her fingers clawed at the frayed ropes, the adrenaline drowning out the burning sensation in her skin.
The masked man cursed, reaching for her—
She rolled, throwing herself backward just as the knife buried itself into the wooden floor where she had been.
She had seconds.
She spotted the rusted nail jutting out from the ground. With one last, desperate motion, she wrenched her wrists against it—
The rope snapped.
Her hands flew free.
The man lunged again—
Claire grabbed the broken chair leg and swung.
The impact sent him stumbling.
She ran.
Her heart pounded as she darted through the darkened hall, the distant sound of waves crashing against the harbor's edge. She had to escape.
Had to find Alexander.
Had to survive.
Behind her, a furious growl erupted—then the thunderous sound of footsteps.
He was coming.
But then—something unexpected happened.
As Claire turned the corner, her foot hit something—a body.
She gasped, stumbling backward.
It was a man, bound and gagged, eyes wide with terror. Another hostage.
Her hands trembled as she reached for him, her mind racing. Who was he? Why was he here?
She yanked off the gag. "Who are you?" she whispered.
The man coughed, his eyes desperate. Then—he rasped out two words that turned her blood to ice.
"It's… a trap."
Claire's breath hitched.
Before she could react, a deafening bang rang out—and the world went dark.
Shadows of Betrayal
Darkness enveloped Claire as the sharp ring of gunfire echoed in the cold air. A searing pain shot through her side, and she gasped, stumbling against the damp concrete floor. Her vision blurred, but she fought to stay conscious.
Footsteps approached—slow, deliberate.
"She's still alive," a voice muttered.
Claire struggled to focus, her fingers pressing against the warm blood seeping from her side. She had to move.
She blinked through the haze of pain just as a figure loomed over her. Not the masked man. Someone else.
"Didn't expect to see you here," the voice continued, laced with cruel amusement.
Claire's heart stopped. She knew that voice.
No. It couldn't be.
A shadow shifted. The dim light revealed the face of the man standing above her—someone she had trusted.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You?" she choked out. "Why—?"
But the betrayal in his smirk told her everything.
"Because, Claire," he whispered, crouching down. "You were never meant to make it out alive."
Meanwhile…
Alexander pulled up near the old harbor, his gun clenched tight in his grip. He had abandoned subtlety the moment he realized this was more than just a ransom demand.
It was an ambush.
He knew it the second he saw the scattered tire marks near the entrance, the half-open warehouse door swinging in the wind.
The city's underground had been ruthless, but this—this was personal.
And he was done playing by their rules.
A soft groan broke through the silence.
His head snapped toward the source of the sound—a man slumped against the wall, bound and barely conscious.
Alexander rushed over, his pulse hammering. He ripped off the gag.
"Where is she?" His voice was sharp, demanding.
The man gasped for breath before managing, "Trap… Betrayal… Someone on the inside…"
The words barely left his lips before his eyes rolled back and he went limp.
Alexander cursed under his breath. Someone on the inside.
The pieces clicked together like shattered glass reforming.
His fists clenched. His teeth ground together.
And then—he heard the gunshot.
A chill ran down his spine.
"Claire."
Without hesitation, he ran toward the sound, his rage boiling over.
Whoever had betrayed them—whoever had dared to hurt her—
Wouldn't live to see another day.
The Face of the Traitor
Alexander moved like a phantom through the shadows, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. The warehouse loomed before him, its rusted walls hiding secrets he wasn't ready to face—but he had no choice. Claire was inside.
The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor. He pressed himself against the wall, gripping his gun tighter. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move faster, but he knew better than to rush into an ambush.
Then he heard it—Claire's voice.
Weak. Pained. But alive.
He turned a corner just in time to see her on the ground, her body trembling, blood staining her side. And standing over her—was the last person he ever expected.
Alexander's world slowed as he locked eyes with the traitor.
"You," he growled, his voice laced with fury.
The figure straightened, their smirk widening.
"Did you really think you could trust me, Alexander?"
Claire's breath hitched as she looked between them. Confusion, pain, and betrayal flickered in her eyes.
"You set us up," she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.
The traitor chuckled, twirling a knife between their fingers. "Oh, Claire, sweet, naive Claire. This was never about you. You were just a distraction."
Alexander took a slow step forward, his muscles coiled like a predator about to strike.
"Tell me why," he demanded, his voice dangerously low.
The traitor sighed. "Because power, Alexander, is not given—it's taken. And you? You had too much of it."
The room seemed to shrink around them. The past, the trust, the years of loyalty—all burned to ashes in an instant.
And then, the traitor lifted the gun.
Alexander didn't hesitate.
A gunshot rang through the air.
But who pulled the trigger first?
The Truth Unveiled
The gunshot echoed like a thunderclap.
Alexander braced for the pain—but it never came.
Instead, the traitor staggered back, clutching their side, eyes wide in shock.
Behind them, Claire stood—her hands trembling, smoke rising from the gun in her grip.
"You… shot me?" The traitor's voice wavered, their smirk faltering.
Claire's breathing was ragged, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You never gave me a choice."
Alexander lunged forward, grabbing the traitor by the collar before they could collapse. "Now, you're going to tell me everything."
A weak chuckle escaped the traitor's lips. Blood stained their teeth as they whispered, "You're too late, Alexander. It's already begun."
Claire exchanged a frantic look with Alexander. "What are they talking about?"
The traitor's grin stretched wider, despite the pain. "You thought I was the mastermind?" They coughed, a sick laugh breaking through. "You never saw the real enemy coming, did you?"
A chill crawled up Alexander's spine. There was someone else. Someone bigger. Someone pulling the strings.
Then—before Alexander could stop them—the traitor yanked something from their pocket.
A detonator.
"Boom," they whispered.
The walls shook. The floor trembled.
And then—chaos erupted.
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(To be Continue...)