The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of fabric and the soft sound of Elle's muffled struggles. Behind the curtain, a masked figure stood, one arm wrapped tightly around Elle, the other clamped over her mouth. Her muffled cries were frantic, her body twisting and turning in an effort to escape, but the figure held firm.
A gleaming needle appeared in their free hand, catching the faint light as they raised it. Without hesitation, the needle struck Elle's neck. Her movements slowed, her body growing limp as the drug took hold. Her head lolled to the side, her breathing shallow but steady.
The figure adjusted her unconscious body carefully, laying her back on the hospital bed with precision. For a moment, they stood over her, their gaze unreadable behind the mask. Then, with deliberate movements, they turned their attention to Amadeo's collapsed form near the door.
The masked figure crouched beside him, pulling on a pair of gloves with practiced ease. With effort, they hefted Amadeo's limp body over their shoulder, their movements strong and calculated. The room was left in eerie stillness, with only Elle's unconscious form remaining. The curtain swayed faintly in their wake as they disappeared into the shadows.
Amadeo's mind swam in darkness. The first sensation that trickled through the haze was pain—sharp and unrelenting, radiating from his right arm. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of the dashboard lights greeting him. It took a moment to piece together where he was. The air was thick, filled with the faint scent of metal and something acrid. He was in his car, slumped in the driver's seat, his head throbbing with a dull ache.
With a groan, Amadeo tried to straighten up, his movements sluggish and disoriented. His right arm felt like it was on fire, each twitch sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. He instinctively touched it, wincing as his fingers brushed against a sore, swollen patch near his wrist. As his mind fought through the fog, fragments of memory began to surface: the hospital...Elle...the nurse in the stairwell.
His eyes widened as realization struck. The nurse—her tray of utensils, the brief collision, the subtle prick on his hand. "She drugged me," he muttered under his breath, a mix of anger and disbelief in his voice. But why? Why had someone gone to such lengths, and more importantly, where was Elle?
He shook his head in frustration, trying to piece together the events that followed. He remembered reaching for the door to call for help in Elle's empty room, but everything beyond that was a void. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles brushing against the steering wheel. What happened after that?
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a sudden, piercing sound shattered the silence around him. The deep, echoing blare of a train's horn.
Amadeo snapped back to reality, his eyes darting outside. The car's headlights illuminated the dark, empty landscape, but as he looked around, his stomach dropped. The car was parked squarely in the middle of train tracks.
His breath caught in his throat as he turned his head. In the distance, a train barreled toward him at full speed, its powerful headlights piercing through the night like twin beams of doom. The ground beneath the car trembled with the force of its approach, the vibrations crawling up his spine.
Panic seized him. He fumbled for the steering wheel, his hands trembling violently. He tried to turn it, to move the car off the tracks, but his arms were weak, his muscles sluggish and unresponsive from the lingering effects of the drug.
"Move!" he shouted at himself, desperation clawing at his voice. "Come on, damn it!"
The train's horn blared again, louder this time, the sound reverberating through his chest. The massive vehicle loomed closer, its speed unforgiving. Amadeo's vision blurred as the headlights washed over him, filling the car with blinding white light.
At the last moment, with adrenaline overriding his disorientation, Amadeo unbuckled his seatbelt, shoved the door open with a desperate shove, and leapt from the car. The ground rushed up to meet him, but just as he landed on his side, his temple struck a jagged rock at the edge of the tracks. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and his world went black.
Amadeo stirred slightly, groaning as his senses returned in fractured bursts. A metallic tang filled the air, mingling with the acrid stench of burning rubber. His body ached as he shifted slightly, the damp grass cool beneath him. He turned his head ever so slightly, his gaze blurring as he took in the devastation. The train screeched to a halt far in the distance, its horn now a fading echo in the quiet.
His car, crumpled and bent, lay half off the tracks. Flames licked at the edges of the hood, smoke curling into the night sky. The surreal image blurred in his vision, but something caught his eye—a shadow, unnaturally still, framed against the blaze.
Through the thick smoke and dancing flames stood a man in a black suit, his presence unnervingly calm in the chaos. Amadeo's heart thudded weakly in his chest as he watched the figure, trying to process whether he was real or a hallucination.
The man moved, his silhouette shifting slightly as he pulled something from his pocket. A cell phone gleamed faintly in his hand. The stranger raised it to his ear, his posture relaxed, and his voice carried low and deliberate through the night air. "Boss, the prey survived."
Without another glance at Amadeo, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the wreckage and the unconscious figure behind. The flames continued to consume the car, the distant wail of approaching sirens growing louder.