The rain fell harder now, turning the city street into a blur of water and flickering neon. Every drop felt like it carried weight, as though the very air was pressing down on Sarah's chest, suffocating her with the realization that something terrible was closing in. The figure at the far end of the street stood unmoving, a silhouette of menace. It was too far to make out any details, but Sarah could feel the cold eyes watching her, even through the veil of rain.
"Who is that?" Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour. Her grip on Helena's hand tightened, her fingers trembling despite her best effort to stay calm.
Marianne stood beside them, her sharp blue eyes fixed on the figure. Her body was tense, coiled with the readiness of someone who had seen death a hundred times before and was prepared to see it again. "It's one of them," she said, her voice low and controlled. There was no fear in her tone—only a quiet, dangerous resolve. "They found us sooner than I expected."
Helena, standing close to Sarah, clutched her arm in fear. "What do we do?" Her voice was shaky, her wide eyes darting between Sarah and Marianne. The terror that had been simmering beneath the surface was beginning to bubble over, and Sarah could feel it spreading through her sister's grip.
"We run," Marianne said without hesitation. "Now."
She grabbed Sarah's arm and yanked her into motion, pulling her and Helena away from the street corner and into a narrow alleyway. The buildings around them loomed like dark giants, their windows staring down at them with cold indifference as they fled through the maze of side streets. Water splashed beneath their feet, the sound of their hurried footsteps echoing against the walls as they ran deeper into the city's labyrinth.
Sarah's heart pounded in her chest, the panic clawing at her insides. She could feel Helena struggling to keep up, her breathing ragged as they raced through the alleyways. Every corner they turned felt like a trap, every shadow a possible ambush. They had no idea where they were going—Marianne was leading them, and Sarah had no choice but to trust her.
But then, from behind them, a new sound cut through the rain: footsteps. Fast. Closing in.
"Sarah!" Helena gasped, her voice cracking with terror. "They're right behind us!"
Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw them—figures, dark and looming, emerging from the alleyways behind them. There were more than one. At least three, maybe four. They moved with a predatory grace, their shapes distorted by the rain but unmistakably closing in.
"Keep running!" Marianne snapped, her voice sharp as she pulled them forward. She led them into another alleyway, this one narrower, more oppressive, the walls closing in around them like a suffocating grip.
But the footsteps grew louder, and Sarah could feel the panic rising in her throat. She stole another glance behind her and saw one of the figures gaining ground, moving faster than humanly possible. The figure's face was still hidden beneath the shadow of a hood, but Sarah could feel the lethal intent radiating off them. They weren't just after her—they were hunters, and Sarah and Helena were their prey.
"Faster!" Marianne urged, her voice rising with urgency now. "Don't stop—don't look back!"
But Helena was slowing down, her legs shaking from exhaustion. "I-I can't," she gasped, her chest heaving. "Sarah, I can't—"
Before Sarah could react, the sound of gunfire ripped through the night. The sharp crack of a bullet cut through the rain, and Sarah felt her heart lurch in terror. She spun around just in time to see one of the figures, gun in hand, taking aim at them from the end of the alleyway.
"Get down!" Marianne shouted, shoving Sarah and Helena against the nearest wall just as another shot rang out. The bullet whizzed past them, missing by inches, slamming into the wall beside them in a spray of concrete and dust.
Helena screamed, her hands flying to her head in panic. Sarah pulled her close, shielding her with her own body as they crouched against the wall, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Her breath was coming in short, desperate gasps now, the adrenaline flooding her veins as the reality of the situation crashed down on her. They were going to die. They were going to be shot down in this alleyway like animals.
But then Marianne moved.
With a fluid grace that defied the chaos around them, she darted out from the alley's edge, her coat billowing behind her as she ran straight toward the nearest assailant. The man didn't have time to react before Marianne was on him, her hand a blur as she unsheathed a knife from her belt. She moved with terrifying speed, slicing through the air in a single, precise motion.
The man crumpled, his throat slit, blood pouring from the wound as he collapsed into the rain-soaked street. Marianne didn't pause—she was already moving toward the next target, her movements smooth and deadly, like a predator in its element.
Sarah watched, stunned, as Marianne took down the second figure with brutal efficiency. There was no hesitation, no mercy. She grabbed the man by the arm, twisted his body in an unnatural angle, and drove the knife into his chest with a sickening crunch. He fell without a sound, his body slumping against the alley wall, the rain washing the blood down into the gutters.
But there were more of them—too many. Sarah could see two more figures emerging from the shadows, guns raised, their faces hidden behind masks. They were moving in, closing the gap between them, and Sarah knew they wouldn't stop until they had finished the job.
"Stay down!" Marianne barked, her voice cold and commanding. She moved with a speed that seemed impossible, dodging another gunshot as she darted toward the nearest attacker. But this time, they were ready for her. The man raised his gun, aiming squarely at Marianne's chest, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"NO!" Sarah screamed, her voice hoarse with fear.
But before the gun could fire, a shadow moved—a blur of motion, too fast to see clearly. The man's gun was knocked from his hand, and his body was lifted off the ground, slammed into the brick wall with a force that sent cracks splintering through the surface. He gasped, his eyes wide with shock and terror, but before he could utter a sound, his neck snapped, the sickening crack of bone echoing through the alleyway.
The man's body fell to the ground, lifeless, and Sarah's breath caught in her throat.
Someone else was here.
The remaining attackers seemed to sense it too. They hesitated, their guns still raised, but their movements were slower now, less certain. Something was wrong. Something was watching them.
Marianne straightened, her chest rising and falling with quick, controlled breaths. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the darkness. There was no one there. No one she could see, anyway. But she knew. She felt it. The presence.
The Devil was here.
The last two attackers turned to run, but it was too late. The shadow moved again, faster than Sarah's eyes could follow. The first man fell without a sound, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap. The second man's head snapped back as an invisible force grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the ground. He choked, his hands clawing at his throat as he gasped for air, but there was no escape. The pressure on his windpipe increased, and within seconds, his body went limp.
Sarah's hands were trembling uncontrollably now, her heart thundering in her chest. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. All she could do was stare at the carnage around her—the blood, the bodies, the terrifying efficiency with which their enemies had been eliminated.
Marianne stood in the center of it all, her eyes scanning the darkness with the same cold intensity she always carried. But now there was something else in her gaze—a flicker of uncertainty. She knew someone else had intervened, someone powerful, someone who moved unseen.
But she didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Sarah pulled Helena closer, her mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. They were alive. Somehow, they had survived. But at what cost?
And then, out of the silence, Marianne turned to Sarah, her voice steady but cold.
"We need to move. Now."
Sarah's legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to stand, pulling Helena up with her. The rain continued to pour down around them, washing away the blood but not the fear.
As they fled deeper into the city, Sarah couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched—not just by their enemies, but by something far more dangerous. Something that had saved them tonight, but might not save them again.