Chapter 9 — After ‘The Shot.’
The pain hit before the sound.
A dull thud, followed by a burning sensation that spread like wildfire. Grim staggered, his shoulder screaming.
The metallic taste of pain filled his mouth.
Gunfire cracked through the tunnel.
Shouts echoed.
Shadows moved in the dim light. Grim forced his legs to move, stumbling across the underground.
His blood dripped, painting the concrete below a dark red.
Keep moving.
The voice whispered, but not in fear. It was amused. Entertained.
You’re too slow.
Grim grit his teeth. His left arm hung useless, crimson soaked through his jacket.
Every nerve screamed, but the desire to live drowned out the pain. The tunnels twisted ahead — a labyrinth of shadows and stale air.
Behind him, footsteps. Close. Too close.
Another shot. The bullet ricocheted off the wall, sending fragments flying.
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His breath trembled. His muscles screamed for rest. But rest was death.
He crashed into a corner, slamming into the wall for support. His vision blurred.
You think you’ll make it?
The world spun, but Grim caught sight of the loose metal pip lining the wall. His good hand gripped it. The footsteps approached.
Five seconds. Four. Three—
A man rounded the corner. Grim swung hard. The pipe cracked into his jaw with a sickening crunch. The man crumpled. But he didn’t stop to watch.
Another turn. Another endless stretch of tunnel.
Blood loss made the shadows ahead dance. His lungs burned. His legs threatened to give.
This is where you fall.
The voice wouldn’t leave him.
But no. He wasn’t done.
Grim grabbed a rusted ladder, dragging himself up.
His body screamed in protest, in agony. But he pulled. The grates above him rattled, light from the street seeped through.
Almost there.
But then.
A hand. Grimy, rough, yanking him back.
Grim twisted. The man’s face was blurred, but the gleam of the gun was clear. He slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs. The weapon clattered. Grim kicked it away.
Another figure emerged from the shadows. Then another.
No, not more!!!!!
He screamed from within.
Grim’s back hit the cold wall.
The blood loss sapped what strength was left in his legs. He clenched his teeth, preparing for the inevitable.
But the voice only laughed.
Then — BOOM.
The tunnel shook. The walls groaned as debris crumbled from above. Smoke filled the air. The men staggered, coughing. And through the chaos a jeep jumping down from above,
"Miss me?"
Ash emerged from the dust, her grin sharp and gleaming. In one hand, a detonator. In the other, a pistol.
Grim wanted to frown but could barely stand. His vision swam. But before he collapsed, she caught him.
"I told you, darling." Her voice was practically a taunt. "I’ve got your back."
The world darkened. And the voice whispered one last time.
She’s not your savior. She’s your downfall.