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A small smile tugs at Ember’s lips. “Maybe one or two. Follow me.”
We slip out of the warehouse and into the city. The hunt is on, and we’re the prey, but Ember’s street savvy, paired with my tactical skills, gives us a fighting chance.
TWENTY-TWO
Blaze
We move through the streets,ducking into every shadow, every forgotten corner the city has to offer. The night is thick and suffocating, but we keep to the fringes, staying low.
Ember leads with an ease born of survival, her instincts sharp as we weave through alleys and slip past danger.
We find temporary refuge in the hollowed shell of an old building, the roof long collapsed, but the walls are still standing.
It’s barely shelter, but it’s enough to keep us hidden. I crouch back against the cold stone, my eyes scanning the distant city lights as the adrenaline fades and exhaustion sets in.
Ember stays close, her breathing steady, but her eyes flick at every sound. The night passes in tense silence; only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional wail of sirens break through.
We wait for dawn, not daring to sleep, knowing that any moment could bring danger crashing down on us.
As the first light of pre-dawn begins to creep through the cracks, the city comes alive again. Ember shifts beside me, her fingers brushing mine. It’s a small touch, but it grounds me and pulls me out of my hyperawareness.
We made it through the night.
She glances at me, something unspoken passing between us.
“This way,” she whispers, tugging me to my feet. We slip back into the streets.
I follow her lead, trusting her street smarts more than my tactical training in this urban jungle. My boots splash through puddles of questionable liquid, each step sending ripples across the oily surface. The sound echoes off the walls, unnaturally loud in the pre-dawn quiet.
Ember moves with a grace born of necessity, her feet finding purchase on the slick pavement without hesitation.
The alley opens onto a street lined with boarded-up storefronts, their windows dark and accusing. A flickering streetlight casts intermittent shadows, transforming trash bags into crouching figures.
My grip tightens on my weapon, every sense on high alert. The hairs on my neck stand up, an animal instinct warning of unseen dangers.
Ember pauses at a dilapidated building, its facade a patchwork of graffiti and crumbling brick. The artwork tells stories of urban decay and lost hope.
“I used to crash in this place when things got rough.”
Her voice carries a weight of memory, hinting at a past I’m only beginning to understand.
I scan the street, searching for any signs of pursuit. Every rustle of wind and every distant siren sets my nerves on edge.
“You’re sure it’s safe?”
A wry smile twists her lips, a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. “Safe is relative in this part of town, but it’s our best bet right now.”
She leads me to a rusted fire escape, the metal groaning under our weight as we climb. Each step sends a jolt of pain through my body, leftovers from my earlier fights.
The rusty railing leaves streaks of oxidized metal on my palms. Ember winces as she pulls herself up, her face contorting in a grimace she tries to hide. The sight of her pain ignites a protective fury in my chest.
We slip through a broken window on the third floor, glass crunching beneath our feet. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and we both freeze, listening for any reaction.
Nothing but the distant wail of a siren.
The room beyond is a study in urban decay—peeling wallpaper curls from the walls like shed skin, revealing layers of lives lived and abandoned. A sagging mattress occupies one corner, its stained surface a canvas of untold stories. Empty bottles and cigarette butts litter the floor, a minefield of shattered dreams.
“Home sweet home,” Ember mutters, her tone something between bitter humor and resignation.