"Hey!" Amadeo shouted, his voice carrying into the night as he sprinted toward his car. His hands fumbled with the keys, his frustration mounting as the masked figure's vehicle disappeared down the street. He jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine, the tires screeching as he tore out of the parking lot in pursuit.
The chase was frantic. Amadeo's eyes stayed glued to the taillights of the masked figure's car as they weaved through the darkened streets. Whoever they were, they knew the city's twists and turns far too well. Amadeo struggled to keep up, his focus narrowing as adrenaline coursed through him.
But just as he thought he was closing the gap, the masked figure made an abrupt turn down an alleyway. Amadeo followed, his tires skidding slightly on the wet pavement. As he rounded the corner, he was greeted by an empty street.
Amadeo stood frozen in the middle of the street, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as the taillights of the masked figure's car disappeared into the distance. His heart pounded as his eyes drifted to the faint words scrawled in bold across the back window of the fleeing car: "The Devil."
The message sent a chill down his spine. "The Devil." What did it mean? Who was this person, and why had they taken Elle?
Without wasting another moment, Amadeo turned his car around and sped back to the hospital.
He navigated the twisting hallways in a blur, his legs carrying him back to the basement where he'd found Elle moments ago. She was still there, lying on the floor where he had left her, her expression distant and vacant. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but her eyes refused to meet his.
"Elle!" he called out, kneeling beside her. "Who was that man? What's going on? Tell me!"
But she didn't respond. Her lips remained pressed together, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him. Frustration surged through Amadeo, his mind clouded with unanswered questions. "Elle, say something!" he demanded, his voice breaking. He reached out and shook her by the shoulders, his grip firm, his emotions spiraling out of control.
The commotion drew the attention of the doctor, who rushed into the room with a nurse in tow. "Mr. Barclay, calm down!" the doctor barked, his tone sharp. "You're going to hurt her if you don't stop!"
Amadeo froze, his hands falling away as guilt seeped into his chest. He watched silently as the doctor and nurse lifted Elle and placed her on a stretcher. Her eyes flickered closed, her body limp as they wheeled her out of the room.
Back in her hospital room, Amadeo sat by her bedside, his thoughts a storm of confusion and anger. He glanced at her pale face, her expression eerily calm even in her unconscious state. Hours passed, the light outside shifting from golden afternoon to deep twilight. But Amadeo stayed, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the window as he stared into the vast night sky.
Finally, a faint rustling sound broke the silence. Amadeo turned his head slightly, noticing Elle stirring. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over her as she took in her surroundings. When her gaze landed on Amadeo standing by the window, she blinked. "You're still here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Amadeo didn't respond immediately. His body remained still, his posture tense. "Who was with you in the basement, Elle?" he asked, his voice low, his words heavy with intensity.
Elle hesitated, her breathing quickening. "Who? There was no one," she stuttered, her voice uneven and uncertain.
Amadeo turned toward her, his sharp gaze cutting through her fragile composure. "Oh, really?" he asked, his tone cold and deliberate. "Then why are you sweating so much?"
Elle didn't answer. Her hands twisted the bedsheet in her lap, her eyes darting around the room, avoiding his. Amadeo took a step closer, his frustration boiling over.
"Listen, Elle," he began, his voice softer but no less urgent. "My entire life was boring. No thrills, no mysteries. And I loved it that way. But now, things are happening—strange, scary things—and I have no idea what's going on. I don't know who I can trust or who's trying to harm you. So tell me." His voice cracked slightly as he pleaded. "Who's doing this? Who's after you?"
Elle's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Why is any of this your concern?" she shot back, her voice rising. "Just leave me be!"
Amadeo froze for a moment, her words cutting deeper than he expected. There was a long, tense pause before he shouted, "It is my concern! All this time, I've been consumed by guilt—guilt that you might be in this situation because of me. Because of me. That thought has been killing me, Elle. You got caught up in all this because you saved me that day. So it is my responsibility to save you."
Elle's expression faltered, her anger softening as she looked away. "No," she whispered. "It's not—"
She stopped herself, her sentence trailing off into silence.
Amadeo's brows furrowed. "Why did you pause? What's not—what, Elle?"
She looked back at him, her lips trembling. "I meant to say that it's not your fault," she said finally. "So just leave. It's my problem—my fault."
Amadeo's eyes narrowed, his frustration mounting. "What? How are you so sure? Why are you so confident?" He stepped closer, his voice rising. "What do you know, Elle? Do you know why all this is happening? Do you know who's doing this? Is it Juana? Is it Cecil? Tell me!"
Elle's confusion seemed genuine as she asked, "Who's Cecil? Who's Juana?"
Amadeo staggered back, her words hitting him like a physical blow. Shock rippled through him as he tried to process what she had said. "You… don't know them?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "But they know you. They know you very well. And me… even more than I know myself."
The revelation left Amadeo reeling, his mind spinning as the pieces of the puzzle became even more fragmented. Whatever game was being played, it was darker and more twisted than he could have imagined.