Amadeo stood frozen, the weight of Cecil's cryptic words pressing down on him. "Be careful who you trust." The words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain, growing louder with each passing second. A deadly game. What was Cecil implying? And more importantly, who was playing it?
His hand clenched around the note, the sharp edges digging into his palm, grounding him in the present. Amadeo's breathing quickened, his mind racing through a tangled web of possibilities.
Who could be the mastermind? Juana's knowing smile flashed in his memory, her cryptic riddles and calculated demeanor hinting at deeper involvement. But then, Elle—missing, helpless—where was she? The chaos felt endless, the walls closing in with each unanswered question.
A sudden noise shattered his thoughts. The faint sound of footsteps reverberated through the corridor, growing louder and more deliberate. Amadeo turned toward the sound, his heart pounding. The figure approaching was unfamiliar—a man in a crisp white lab coat, carrying a clipboard. His face was blank, almost unnaturally calm.
"Mr. Amadeo Barclay?" the man addressed Amadeo, his voice steady and clinical. "I'm Dr. Loraine. I need you to come with me."
Amadeo's instinct was to refuse, suspicion clouding his judgment. "Why? What's going on?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
Dr. Loraine raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "We found something you might want to see. It concerns Elle Fontaine."
The name was enough to make Amadeo's resistance crumble. He followed Dr. Loraine, his pulse racing as they navigated the hospital's twisting hallways. Each step felt heavier than the last, dread building with every turn.
They stopped in front of an unmarked door. Dr. Loraine pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room lined with monitors. The screens displayed fragmented footage from various hospital security cameras. Amadeo stepped closer, his eyes scanning the footage desperately.
And then he saw her.
Elle appeared on one of the screens, her figure small and hunched as she walked down a corridor. But something was off. Her movements were sluggish, almost robotic, as if she were in a trance. Amadeo's breath hitched as he watched her disappear through an exit—an exit that led to the hospital's basement.
"What is this?" Amadeo asked, his voice shaking. "Why is Elle going to the basement?"
Dr. Loraine's expression remained unreadable. "We don't know. But the cameras in the basement stopped working shortly after she entered. We've sent staff down to investigate, but so far, there's been no sign of her."
Amadeo's jaw tightened. "Let me go down there."
Dr. Loraine hesitated. "Mr. Barclay, it's not safe—"
"I don't care!" Amadeo snapped, his voice rising. "Elle is down there, and I'm going to find her."
Without waiting for permission, Amadeo stormed out of the room and headed for the basement. His footsteps were heavy, his determination unwavering. The descent down the stairs felt endless, each step echoing in the silence. When he reached the basement door, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle.
He pushed it open.
The basement was cold and dark, the air thick with an unsettling stillness. Amadeo's eyes adjusted slowly, scanning the room for any sign of Elle. Shadows danced across the walls, their shapes twisting into eerie figures. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of machinery in the distance.
And then he saw her.
Elle was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes wrinkled, but what struck Amadeo the most was her expression. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, staring into nothingness.
"Elle!" Amadeo called, rushing toward her.
She didn't respond. Her breathing was shallow, her body rigid as if frozen in place. Amadeo crouched beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her shoulder. "Elle, it's me. Are you okay?"
Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.Relief and fear battled for dominance as he gently shook her shoulders, trying to rouse her. "Elle, wake up!" he pleaded, his voice trembling.
Suddenly, the faint sound of tires screeching outside snapped him out of his focus. His head whipped around, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the sound. Someone else was here.
Amadeo's heart sank as he heard the unmistakable rev of an engine and the screech of rubber against pavement. His instincts kicked in, and he bolted toward the exit, leaving Elle momentarily behind. As he reached the basement door, he caught a glimpse of a vehicle speeding out of the hospital parking lot, its headlights cutting through the darkness.
In the driver's seat, a masked figure sat, their face obscured by a sleek black mask. The figure turned their head briefly, and for a split second, Amadeo felt their gaze lock onto his. A chill ran down his spine. Whoever they were, they wanted him to see them—but only for that fleeting moment.