Ethan's breath came in ragged gasps as he slammed the door behind him, the echo of it crashing against the wall resounding through the dim room. His hands scrambled for the window latch, his pulse racing as the distant sound of footsteps grew closer.
"Too high..." he muttered under his breath, peering over the edge of the windowsill. The ground loomed far below, at least three stories down. His heart pounded as he assessed his chances, knowing the odds were not in his favor.
Footsteps thudded down the hallway behind him. Landlord and Mark were coming, fast and furious. Their voices were loud, seething with rage.
Ethan didn't have time to weigh his options. Without thinking, he vaulted through the open window, clutching the ledge with sweaty palms. His legs scrambled for footing, finally landing on the metal bars of the window grate on the floor below.
"He saw us!" Landlord's growl echoed behind him, full of menace. "We can't let him get away!"
Ethan didn't hesitate. He dropped to the ground, his feet barely touching before he launched himself into a roll, the jarring impact shooting pain through his side. His arm scraped against the wall, tearing his sleeve and sending a searing pain through his skin, but he had no time to care.
As he stood, his eyes darted around frantically. He spotted a hammer lying on the ground and grabbed it without a second thought. His only focus now was on escape.
"Don't let him get away!" Landlord's furious shout echoed through the courtyard, and Ethan glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a glint of silver flying through the air.
His breath caught as the knife missed his head by mere inches, embedding itself into the dirt behind him. A chill ran down his spine. They were serious—deadly serious.
His legs burned as he sprinted toward the perimeter wall, fueled by the instinct to survive. Behind him, the door to the building flew open, revealing Ollie and Diana, charging after him with garden shears in hand. Their eyes gleamed with the kind of madness that sent Ethan's pulse skyrocketing.
"Come on!" Ollie bellowed, barreling forward like a tank.
Ethan's fingers fumbled over the rusty chains hanging from the iron gate. He kicked at the newly installed lock, hoisting himself up, his breath ragged and uneven. The metal scraped against his shoes as he climbed over, but he didn't dare stop. Every second counted.
The woods surrounded the apartment building like a wall of shadows, thick and foreboding. There was no time to consider his options, no time to find a clear path. The only thing Ethan could do was run.
Branches whipped against his face, his clothes tearing on sharp twigs and thorns. The undergrowth was thick, making his movements sluggish, but adrenaline pushed him forward. Behind him, the frantic beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness as his pursuers followed, shouting curses and threats.
"Don't let him get away!" Mark's voice was distant but relentless.
Ethan's lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, his feet slipping on the damp earth. The night was suffocating, the air heavy with the scent of pine and decay. He couldn't stop. Not yet. Not until he was safe.
After what felt like an eternity of running, Ethan finally ducked into a dense thicket, collapsing into the shadows. His chest heaved as he crouched low, the sound of his heartbeat filling his ears. Far in the distance, the faint glow of their flashlight bobbed through the trees, but they were falling behind.
For now.
His fingers dug into the dirt, his entire body trembling. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mixing with the mud that clung to his skin. He was alive, but only barely.
"That was too close," he whispered to himself, his mind racing. Every choice he had made tonight had been a gamble, each one pushing him closer to death. But he wasn't out of the woods yet—literally.
Ethan's breath finally steadied as he straightened, the flashlight beams no longer visible through the thick undergrowth. The oppressive silence of the forest closed in around him, amplifying the faint rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.
He glanced at his phone. The live stream was still running. The screen, however, was filled with confusion, the chat flooded with messages from viewers asking what was happening. Ethan's followers were used to strange things, but tonight had taken a darker turn.
"Just a bit longer," he muttered. His fingers hovered over the reply from Hayden, a message that might help him figure out what the hell was going on, but before he could open it, the sound of snapping branches sent him diving back into cover.
A faint light moved through the trees again, but this time, something was off. Ethan's grip tightened around the hammer as he peered through the leaves. The figure wasn't one of his pursuers.
"Ryan?" Ethan whispered under his breath, recognizing the man's silhouette. He frowned. Ryan had left hours ago. Why was he here now?
Something wasn't right. The way Ryan moved seemed too deliberate, too focused, as though he were searching for something—or someone.
Ethan's instincts screamed at him to stay hidden. Ryan wasn't safe, not after what Ethan had seen at the apartment. He remained crouched in the underbrush, watching as Ryan moved closer.
"Is someone there?" Ryan's voice was barely above a whisper as he scanned the area with his flashlight, his tone carrying an unsettling edge.
Ethan's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't trust anyone now. Slowly, he backed away, careful not to make a sound as he moved further into the trees.
Minutes stretched into an eternity as Ethan distanced himself from Ryan. His mind raced with questions, but none of them had answers. What was Ryan doing here? Was he part of the twisted plot, or had he simply wandered back into danger?
Pushing those thoughts aside, Ethan focused on the path ahead. The trees thinned out slightly, revealing a steep incline that led toward the mountain. He wasn't sure where it led, but it had to be better than staying here.
After scaling the rocky slope, Ethan found himself standing before a small, dilapidated cabin. The wood was rotting, the door barely hanging on its hinges. A faded sign nailed to the front read: Protect the Forest, Protect Your Future.
"Forester's cabin?" Ethan mumbled to himself, pushing the door open. The hinges groaned as he stepped inside. The air was thick with the stench of mold and decay.
The inside was a mess. Clothes, trash, and personal items were scattered everywhere. The foul smell only intensified as Ethan moved further in, his phone's dim light illuminating the grimy interior. His nose wrinkled in disgust.
At the far end of the room, a pile of moldy clothes caught his eye. Ethan crouched down, lifting a few of the garments with the edge of his hammer. His heart skipped a beat. They were women's clothes, all stained and covered in dirt. They hadn't been here long.
Ethan's mind raced. The size, the style—they matched the clothes of the woman they had found entombed in the wall back at the apartment. But that was impossible... wasn't it?
His fingers trembled as he sifted through the clothing, a sense of dread creeping up his spine. Buried beneath the pile was something cold and hard—a phone. It was small and pink, its battery nearly dead, but when Ethan powered it on, a single message appeared on the screen.
Help me.
Ethan's blood ran cold. The text was half-written, never sent.