The rain fell in relentless sheets, icy and punishing as it soaked through Sarah's clothes, chilling her to the bone. Her legs burned with exhaustion, but she couldn't stop—not now, not when they were being hunted. The city streets blurred past her, a twisting maze of alleys and shadows. Each step felt heavier than the last, and Helena, barely able to keep pace, clung to her side, gasping for breath.
"Faster," Marianne urged from ahead, her voice cutting through the night. She moved with a predatory grace, gliding effortlessly through the narrow alleyways, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for threats.
Sarah's heart pounded in her chest as she stole a glance behind them. Shadows stretched long and distorted in the rain, but there was no sign of their pursuers. Not yet. But she could feel it—the dread, the sense that something was closing in on them. It was as if the city itself had turned against them, its darkened streets conspiring to trap them, to swallow them whole.
"They're coming," Helena whimpered, her voice barely audible over the downpour. "Sarah, I can feel them—"
"I know," Sarah whispered back, her own fear strangling her words. "Just keep moving."
Her mind was racing, thoughts spiraling out of control. They were being hunted, and not by ordinary people. The men chasing them were killers—trained, relentless, and deadly. Sarah didn't know how they had found them so quickly, but she knew one thing for sure: if they stopped, even for a moment, they wouldn't survive.
Marianne led them down another alley, this one narrower and more claustrophobic. The walls felt like they were closing in, trapping them as they splashed through the water pooling at their feet. The cold air bit at Sarah's skin, each breath painful and ragged.
Suddenly, Marianne stopped, her hand shooting up to signal them to halt. Sarah nearly stumbled into her, the sudden stop sending a jolt of panic through her.
"What is it?" Sarah whispered, her voice trembling.
Marianne didn't answer immediately. Her head tilted slightly, listening, her eyes narrowing. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of the rain. And then, faintly, Sarah heard it too: footsteps. Fast. Approaching.
"We're being followed," Marianne said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Stay close to me. And whatever happens, don't stop."
Sarah swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her throat. She tightened her grip on Helena, pulling her closer. They had been running for what felt like hours, but now the danger felt more immediate, more real. The footsteps were growing louder, closing in with every second.
Marianne's eyes flicked toward a darkened corner of the alley, her body tense. "They're close. When I say run, you run."
"But where?" Sarah asked, panic rising in her chest. "We're trapped."
"There's always a way out," Marianne replied, her voice low and controlled. "We just need to find it."
The footsteps were almost on top of them now, echoing ominously in the narrow alley. Sarah could barely see through the rain, but she knew their pursuers were there, hidden in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And then, without warning, a gunshot rang out, shattering the silence.
"Down!" Marianne shouted, shoving Sarah and Helena to the ground as the bullet slammed into the wall behind them. The sound was deafening, a brutal reminder of how close they were to death.
Helena screamed, her hands flying to her ears in terror as the gunfire continued. Sarah wrapped her arms around her sister, shielding her from the bullets as best she could, her own fear suffocating her.
Another shot rang out, this one closer. Sarah could feel the impact reverberate through the ground as it struck mere inches away from where they were crouched.
"We need to move!" Marianne barked, her voice sharp with urgency. She drew a gun from her belt, her movements quick and practiced, and returned fire. There was no hesitation, no fear—just cold, calculated precision.
Sarah scrambled to her feet, pulling Helena with her. They ran, their footsteps splashing through the flooded alleyway, the sound of gunfire echoing behind them. Each step felt heavier, slower, as if the very air around them was pressing in, trying to pull them down.
"They're too fast," Helena gasped, her voice breaking as she stumbled again. "We can't outrun them."
"We have to," Sarah said, though she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going. Her lungs burned, her legs ached, and the weight of fear was crushing her.
They rounded another corner, but just as they did, two dark figures appeared at the other end of the alley. Sarah's heart dropped. They were trapped. There was nowhere left to run.
The men moved closer, their faces obscured by shadows, their guns raised and ready. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. This was it. They weren't going to make it.
Marianne stepped forward, her gun aimed at the men, but there was no time to react. One of them fired first, the bullet tearing through the air with deadly precision.
But just before it could strike, something happened. Something… impossible.
The bullet stopped, suspended in midair for the briefest of moments, as if caught by an invisible hand. And then, just as quickly, it veered off course, embedding itself harmlessly in the brick wall.
Sarah's eyes widened in shock, her breath frozen in her chest. What had just happened?
The men hesitated, clearly unnerved, but they didn't have time to process it before the air around them shifted. The temperature dropped, and for a moment, the rain seemed to slow, as if time itself had bent under some unseen force.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the men were lifted off their feet, slammed against the walls with such force that the sound of breaking bones echoed through the alley. They didn't even have time to scream.
It was over in seconds. The men's bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless, their blood mixing with the rain as it pooled at their feet.
Sarah's body trembled with fear and confusion. She looked around, searching for some explanation, but there was nothing. No one. Only the shadows.
"Move," Marianne said, her voice tight. She didn't look back at the bodies. She didn't need to. "We don't have time."
Sarah grabbed Helena's arm, pulling her along as they followed Marianne deeper into the city. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The men had been killed—but by what?
As they ran, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone. Something—someone—was watching them. Something beyond human. It wasn't Marianne. It wasn't the hunters. It was something else, something that had saved them without ever showing itself.
"Marianne," Sarah called out, her voice shaking. "What was that? What just happened?"
Marianne didn't answer. She kept moving, her pace quickening. "It doesn't matter," she said, her tone dismissive. "Just keep going."
But Sarah knew it did matter. There was something—someone—out there, hidden in the shadows, pulling the strings. A presence that had intervened in the last moment, saving them from certain death without ever revealing itself.
They ran through the twisting streets, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The city around them felt oppressive, its dark buildings looming like silent sentinels. The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, washing away the blood but not the fear.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Marianne led them into a small, nondescript building at the end of a deserted street. She shoved the door open, motioning for Sarah and Helena to hurry inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, Marianne slammed the door shut, locking it behind them.
They stood in silence for a moment, the sound of their breathing the only thing breaking the stillness. The room they were in was small, dimly lit, with concrete walls and no windows. It felt more like a bunker than a safe house.
"We'll be safe here for now," Marianne said, her voice steady but tense. "They won't find us."
Sarah collapsed against the wall, her legs giving out beneath her. She pulled Helena close, wrapping her arms around her sister as Helena sobbed quietly into her shoulder. The weight of the night was crashing down on them, the fear and the exhaustion overwhelming.
"We can't keep running like this," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking. "We're going to die out there."
Marianne stood at the far end of the room, her face shadowed. "You won't," she said quietly, though there was no comfort in her tone. "The Lord won't let that happen."
"The Lord…" Sarah's voice trailed off as she looked up at Marianne. "Why does he care about us? Why are we so important?"
Marianne's expression darkened, but she didn't answer immediately. She turned away, her gaze fixed on the door as if expecting another attack. "There are things you don't understand, Sarah. And it's better if you don't ask."
Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her lips. There was something in Marianne's voice—a warning, perhaps—that made it clear she wasn't going to get answers. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Sarah held Helena tighter, her mind racing with unanswered questions. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone—something—was watching them, even now. Hidden. Always watching.