I woke up with a splitting headache, the pain coursing through my body like an unrelenting wave. Something felt different, a strange sensation pulsing inside me. Every movement was agony, but I forced myself to sit up, groaning as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I slowly made my way to the bathroom, needing to see if there was anything visibly wrong.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, expecting to see some horrible change. But there was nothing. My face looked the same, the same familiar features staring back at me. I examined myself more closely, looking for any sign of injury or abnormality. To my shock, the wounds of the night before were gone, healed as if they had never existed.
I returned to my bed and lay there for hours, trying to process what had happened. The pain gradually subsided, but it was replaced by something else - strange vibrations or sounds echoing in my head. It was like hearing a strange radio frequency right inside my brain. The noise was maddening, a constant barrage of incomprehensible whispers and static.
Frustration boiled over and I screamed for the noise to stop. To my astonishment, every light and electronic device in my house turned off simultaneously. I froze, staring around the darkened room, my heart pounding. Before I could fully comprehend what had just happened, a frantic knock on my door jolted me from my thoughts.
I stumbled to the door, my mind racing. Opening it, I found David, his face etched with urgency. "David, what are you doing here? Why did you risk being seen?" I asked, confused.
David pushed his way past me and into the room. "Wish, we have a problem. Andersson knows someone has been in his office. He's realized his project is missing and he's looking for suspects."
Panic surged through me. "So he knows it was me?"
"Not yet. He has several suspects, but we have to move. Now," David said, already grabbing my things and shoving them into a bag. "Pack only what you need."
Fear and adrenaline drove me as I threw the essentials into a bag. David's urgency was contagious and I moved quickly, the strange noises in my head momentarily forgotten. We rushed through the process, my mind a blur of fear and determination.
We left Desire in a hurry, David and his bodyguards flanking me. As we exited, we ran into Vik, her expression a mixture of confusion and disdain. "Running off somewhere, Wish? Don't forget to send a postcard," she sneered.
David didn't hesitate. He pushed her aside and she stumbled to the floor. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the waiting limousine. "No time for this," he snapped.
Inside the car, the doors closed, sealing us in a bubble of tense silence. David turned to me, his expression grave. "I'm taking you to a safe house. You'll be safe there and we can go over what you found. You need to stay there until it's safe."
I nodded, my mind struggling to keep up. The fear of being caught, the strange changes happening to me, and the abrupt upheaval of my life were overwhelming. As the car sped away from Desire, I felt a mixture of fear and sadness. My life, chaotic as it was, had been stable in its own way. Now everything was turned upside down.
David's presence was a small comfort, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at me. I clutched the bag of essentials, my heart pounding as I tried to prepare for whatever came next. The road ahead was fraught with danger, but there was no turning back now.
After several hours of driving in an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere, my only option was to stare out the window and watch the abandoned and dark side of Midas pass by. The scenes outside were a grim reminder of the world I lived in: gangs fighting in the streets, homeless people crowding dark alleys, and suspicious vendors and other individuals trying to make a living on the main street. The decay and desperation of the city was palpable, a stark contrast to the opulence I had left behind.
Suddenly, the car came to an abrupt stop. Before I could react, strong hands opened the door, pulled me out and dragged me into a dark alley. My heart raced as we moved quickly, the rough pavement scraping against my feet.
We reached a metal door attached to a seemingly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Midas, an area where only the poorest of the poor and the most vicious of criminals lived. The door creaked open and I was pushed inside, the dim light revealing a desolate interior.
My mind raced with a mixture of fear and confusion as I was led deeper into the warehouse, wondering what awaited me in this deserted place.
After being dragged down several flights of stairs and through several high-security doors requiring iris scans, I was finally greeted by an unexpectedly normal-looking loft apartment. Ignoring its location and the intense security measures I had just passed through, it almost felt like an upgrade, as if I had moved into a posh downtown apartment. But the reality of the situation quickly hit me as I sat across from David at a dining table with five of his men standing behind him like watchdogs.
Before I could catch my breath from the harsh treatment, David began his interrogation. "What happened at Andersson's mansion?" he demanded.
Reluctantly, with a grim aura hanging over me, I recounted the events of the night. I gave David a brief summary, hitting the main points, including the stupid mistake I made when I destroyed the very important looking test tube that Andersson had hidden behind a secret door in a metal container.
David remained silent as I spoke, his eyes locked with mine. When I finished, I saw his expression change. His eyes darkened, filled with a mixture of interest and panic as I mentioned the shattering of the test tube.
"What was in the test tube, Wish?" David's voice was tight, controlled, but I could feel the underlying urgency.
"I don't know," I admitted, my own fear rising. "But whatever it was, Andersson went to great lengths to hide it. When I broke it, I knew I'd screwed up."
David's jaw clenched and he exchanged a quick, tense look with his men. The air in the room grew heavier, the stakes higher than I had imagined.
"This complicates things," David said, finally breaking the silence. "We need to find out what was in that test tube and why it's so important."
He didn't ask any more questions until I'd finished my report, but the atmosphere remained tense. The mission was far from over, and the consequences of my actions were only beginning to unfold.
After David's men placed my belongings in the loft, they left, leaving me alone with David. As I unpacked, we exchanged a few meaningful glances, the weight of our situation hanging heavily between us. David remained silent, watching me with a mixture of concern and determination.
Finally he spoke. "Wish, I know this isn't what you signed up for. But I need you to stay here and keep a low profile. I'll do everything I can to protect you and draw Andersson's attention. Just stay in the loft and wait. I'll let you know as soon as I have more information."
His assurances were meant to be comforting, but the gravity of our situation made them feel hollow. Still, I nodded, understanding the danger we were in.
When David turned to leave, he paused at the door and looked back at me. "Stay safe, Wish. We'll get through this."
With that, he left, leaving me alone in my new home. The silence that followed was almost deafening, adding to the unease that was gnawing at my mind. I finished unpacking, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in this strange, hidden sanctuary.
The loft was surprisingly well-appointed, a stark contrast to the bleakness of the world outside. It was as if I had been transported to another reality, a brief respite from the chaos. But I knew better than to let my guard down. This place was a temporary haven, and the real danger still lurked just beyond these high-security doors.
As I settled in, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced around the loft, half expecting to find hidden cameras or listening devices. Paranoia was my new companion, a necessary ally in a world where trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The events of the past few days replayed in my mind, each moment a reminder of how far I had fallen into this web of deceit and danger. The stakes were higher than ever, and I could only hope that David's efforts would be enough to keep me safe.
For now, all I could do was wait and hope that the storm would pass without consuming me completely.
I tried to make myself comfortable in my new home, though comfort was now a foreign concept to me. I went through the motions - cooked some food in the kitchen, explored each room, and even took a long, hot bath, hoping the water would wash away the tension that clung to my body. For a moment it almost worked. The loft was cozy, a stark contrast to the gritty streets outside. But it was a false peace, a brief lull before the storm.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows grew longer, I began to feel it again - that throbbing pain in my head. It started as a dull ache, but it quickly intensified, becoming an unbearable pressure inside my skull. I moaned, clutching my temples, and just as I was about to scream for it to stop, my vision suddenly went dark.
Panic surged through me, but just as quickly as it had come, the darkness lifted. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't see the inside of the loft. Instead, I was staring at the street outside the abandoned warehouse.
I gasped and stumbled back, my heart pounding. What had happened? It took me a few frantic moments to realize that I was looking through the security camera mounted on the wall of the warehouse. Somehow I was seeing through its lens, as if my consciousness had been pulled into the system itself.
I tried to calm my breathing and focus on the scene before me. A few figures were loitering in the street, their voices a low murmur in the darkness. But their words weren't just muffled by distance; they came through a layer of static, like a broken radio struggling to tune in. Whispers and crackles invaded my mind, fragments of conversation filtering through.
"…an explosion… office… Andersson…"
The words were scattered, almost unintelligible, but one name stood out: Alexander Brook. He was one of the managers who had been at Andersson's party. A shudder of fear and confusion ran through me as I tried to make sense of what I was hearing. An explosion? What happened after I left?
The whispers continued, bits of conversation emerging through the static. They seemed to be discussing a recent event - an explosion that had occurred in the office of Alexander Brook, an executive at some insurance company. I strained to hear more, but the voices faded, slipping away like smoke through my fingers.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the connection broke. My vision snapped back to the loft and I collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind reeling from the impossible experience.
What was happening to me? The pain, the voices, the way I'd seen through the camera - it wasn't normal. I was changing, and whatever was happening to me was far beyond my understanding.
I lay there for what felt like hours, trying to make sense of it all, but no answers came. All I knew was that something had changed, and it wasn't just inside me - it was out there, in the city, in the world I was now desperately trying to escape.
But there was no escape. Not anymore.