Key Story (2) - Chapter 28
The movie night had been surprisingly nice. Milo and Fayne had shared a warm meal cooked by Fayne's mom, whose culinary skills were nothing short of legendary. The savory dishes and freshly baked treats created an inviting atmosphere that settled around them like a comforting blanket. Throughout the movie, their hands lingered, close but not quite touching, the tension between them gentle and unspoken.
When the credits rolled, neither wanted to break the quiet ease they'd found, but it was getting late. Fayne had offered to walk Milo to the station, and though she felt a little guilty about sending him off so late, she was glad they could share this moment—just the two of them.
The night was darker than usual, the streets mostly empty as they walked side by side. They chatted lightly, the conversation drifting back to the movie they'd just watched. Fayne admitted she was surprised Milo had agreed to come over, and he laughed, saying he couldn't resist her mom's cooking. Fayne smiled, feeling her cheeks warm in the cool air, and told him how much she appreciated that he had come all this way just to hang out. It felt sincere—like they were finally finding a space for themselves outside of all the chaos.
As they neared the station, their fingers brushed, and this time, neither pulled away. Slowly, they intertwined, holding hands in a simple, honest gesture that meant more than either was willing to say out loud. When they reached the train platform, Fayne squeezed his hand gently and told him, with a soft smile, how much she enjoyed his company. Milo's face softened, and he looked at her with an expression that said he felt the same.
One lingering glance as the train pulled up. It was hard to say goodbye, but they left it at that—a promise, unspoken and warm, to figure things out at their own pace. Milo boarded the train, waving back at her as it slowly rolled away, and Fayne was left standing alone at the platform. Everything seemed alright.
The night felt colder without Milo's presence, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. Fayne kept to the well-lit paths, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. The stillness of the evening, which had felt peaceful earlier, now seemed unsettling. She picked up her pace, the unfamiliar feeling of being watched making her heart beat faster.
She tried to calm herself, reminding herself that it wasn't far back to her house. She just had to walk a few more blocks. But the feeling only grew—like something or someone was just out of sight, hidden among the shifting shadows. She glanced over her shoulder, and for a split second, she thought she saw a silhouette—a figure that looked too familiar, a glimpse that sent a cold chill down her spine.
Her breath quickened, and without thinking, her hand flew to her phone. She thought about Milo—how he'd react, how worried he'd be—but he was already on the train, far away, and she couldn't ask him to come back. The anxiety of leaving him out of the loop gnawed at her, but this wasn't the time to hesitate.
She opened her contacts and dialed Raxian.
The phone rang twice before Rax answered, his voice carrying an edge of surprise and concern. "Fayne?" he asked, clearly picking up on the urgency in her breathing.
"Rax..." Her voice was shaky, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep it steady. "I-I think I'm being followed. I just left the station, and... it feels like someone's there. I-I don't know, maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I thought I saw him... Lynx."
There was a brief, heavy silence on the other end, and Fayne could hear the faint echo of Raxian's footsteps as he came to a stop. "Where are you?" he asked, his tone immediately shifting, all business now. She could hear the tension, the undercurrent of protectiveness that always came out when things got serious.
"I'm about five blocks from my house," she said, scanning her surroundings nervously. "I'm staying close to the streetlights, but I don't know if he's really there or if I'm just... imagining it."
"Stay right where you are," Raxian said firmly, his voice calm but commanding. "I'm coming to you. Don't go anywhere alone."
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As Raxian spoke, Raze, who had been walking beside him, picked up on the shift in his friend's tone. He slowed his steps, watching as Raxian's expression turned grim, his eyes flicking to Raze with a silent message: something's wrong.
Raxian lowered the phone slightly, his voice tense but controlled. "Fayne thinks Lynx is following her," he said, his gaze locking with Raze's, the weight of the words clear. "We need to meet up. Now."
Raze's expression hardened, and he nodded, falling in step beside Rax. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. They were in this together, just as they had agreed. Whatever was happening, they were ready to face it, side by side.
Rax and Raze broke into a quick jog, the night feeling colder and more hostile with every passing second. They weren't far from Fayne's location, and Raxian kept her on the line, reassuring her even as his mind raced with worry. Fayne's breathing was fast, shallow, but she was holding it together—he could hear it in her voice, the determination to stay calm despite the fear.
As Raxian and Raze rounded the corner that would take them to Fayne, they saw her under the streetlights, standing still but alert, her eyes scanning the darkness. Her face was pale, her phone pressed to her ear, and Rax felt a rush of relief at the sight of her—safe, for now.
But just as they reached her, a shadow moved at the far end of the street—a figure, watching, then slipping away into the darkness. Raze saw it too, his eyes narrowing. It had to be Lynx—playing his game, taunting them.
"Fayne," Raxian said as he approached, his breath coming fast from the run. "We're here. You're not alone."
She nodded, her expression tight with barely contained fear, and Raze put a hand on her shoulder, his presence solid and comforting.
"What did you see?" Raze asked, his tone low and urgent.
Fayne swallowed, finally lowering her phone, and pointed in the direction of the disappearing figure. "There. I saw someone... just for a second. I'm not sure, but I think it was him."
They all stared down the darkened street together, the weight of the moment pressing heavy on their shoulders. This wasn't just paranoia anymore—it was real. Lynx was out there, and they were his next targets.
"We can't go back now," Raxian said, his voice steady but laced with intensity. "We have to face this head-on. No more waiting around."
Raze nodded, his jaw set with determination, and Fayne looked between them, finding her own courage in their resolve. They weren't going to let Lynx win—not this time.
"Together," she said softly, and they all shared a nod, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it as one. They turned away from the empty street, leaving the shadow of Lynx behind them, and started walking together—toward whatever lay ahead.
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Raxian walked briskly down the dimly lit road, his steps matching the quickening pace of his thoughts. The city lights blurred around him as he pulled his phone out of his pocket for the third time in ten minutes, checking his messages for what felt like the hundredth time. His heart pounded as he glanced down at the screen, still void of any reply from Sable.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he typed out another message, a little more insistent this time. Hey, just checking in again. Are you okay? He hit send and stuffed the phone back into his pocket, trying to focus on the present—on Raze and Fayne walking alongside him. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Sable.
She had been fine when he left that morning, groggy but safe in her apartment, where he knew every door was locked and every window secure. He trusted her to be careful, especially after everything she'd been through. But now, with the shadow of Lynx suddenly reappearing, everything felt different. The silence on the other end of his phone felt heavier with every passing second.
Raze and Fayne exchanged glances, sensing his agitation. Raxian's face was pale, his jaw clenched as he pulled his phone out again, checking the screen even though he knew there was nothing new. He was barely paying attention to the conversation, barely aware of the world around him. His focus was narrowing in, tunneling down into the pit of anxiety swirling in his stomach.
"Sable?" Fayne's voice cut through his thoughts, gentle but concerned. Raxian didn't respond, his eyes locked onto the phone in his hand as if willing it to light up. He tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, that it was just his imagination getting the better of him. Sable was safe—he was sure of it.
But she wasn't responding.
"Rax," Raze said, his tone firmer now. "I'm sure she's fine. Maybe her phone died, or she's in the shower, or—"
"No," Raxian interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. "She'd see my message. She always does." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mixing with worry. "She should've responded by now."
The weight of Lynx's presence hung heavy in the night air, suffocating and real. Raxian tried to focus on logical explanations—she could have just fallen asleep, maybe she was watching a show with her headphones on and missed the notification. But the nagging doubt wouldn't let him go. He could feel it growing, creeping into his chest and tightening around his heart.
Fine, he thought, trying to shake off the fear. I'll give it another five minutes. Then I'll call her.
But the minutes dragged by like hours. Fayne and Raze walked beside him, their presence grounding him, but it wasn't enough. He knew he wouldn't feel better until he heard Sable's voice—until he knew for sure that she was okay.
He pulled out his phone again, dialing her number this time. It rang once, twice, three times. Then it went to voicemail. His stomach sank.
"She's not picking up," he said, his voice tense. "I'm calling again."
Raze looked at him with concern, but Raxian ignored it, hitting the call button once more. It rang again, the sound feeling deafening in the quiet of the night, and again it went to voicemail.
"Rax, breathe," Fayne said softly, touching his arm. "I'm sure she's fine. She's at home, remember? She's safe there."
"Then why isn't she answering?" he snapped, pulling his arm away, his eyes burning with frustration. "It doesn't make sense."
He was running out of patience, the cold fear settling deeper in his gut. The image of Lynx slipping away into the shadows earlier that night kept replaying in his mind, taunting him, making every excuse seem hollow and every possibility darker. He could feel his breathing quicken, his hands shaking slightly as he dialed Sable's number one more time.
When it went to voicemail for the third time, he couldn't take it anymore. His mind raced with every worst-case scenario, with every possibility he couldn't allow himself to believe.
"I'm going back," he said suddenly, his voice resolute, his eyes hard with determination. "I need to check on her."
"What?" Fayne's eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm again, trying to stop him. "Rax, you don't have to—she's probably just asleep, or—"
"No," he said firmly, pulling his arm free. "I'm not waiting around. I need to see her."
Raze stepped forward, his expression serious, and nodded. "Then we'll go with you."
Raxian hesitated, looking between his friends, the anxiety battling with the relief of not having to do this alone. Finally, he nodded, his face set with determination. "Alright. Let's go."
The three of them turned around and started moving quickly, their pace picking up as they headed back toward Sable's apartment. The night air felt colder now, the shadows deeper, the streetlights dimmer as they rushed forward with a sense of urgency that only grew with every step. Raxian's heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing the fear that he couldn't quite shake.
If Lynx had gotten close to her—if something had happened while he was away—he would never forgive himself.
He had to see her. He had to make sure she was okay, no matter what it took.
And if Lynx was there, waiting for him in the darkness, Raxian would be ready.
They moved through the night like shadows, the tension building, the silence between them thick and charged. Whatever was waiting for them, Raxian knew they would face it together. But right now, there was only one thing that mattered—finding Sable and making sure she was safe.
And as they neared her apartment building, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
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The building loomed before them, dark and quiet except for the faint glow from the streetlights outside. Raxian's breath hitched as he turned the key in the lock, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. He paused, the weight of what he might find pressing heavily on his chest. Then he pushed the door open, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.
"Sable?" he called, his voice breaking the stillness as he stepped inside. There was no answer, just the oppressive silence of an empty apartment. He swallowed hard and glanced back at Fayne and Raze, who stood hesitantly in the entryway. "Wait here," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'll check upstairs."
As Raxian disappeared up the stairs, Fayne and Raze exchanged uncertain glances, taking in their surroundings. The apartment was modest, cozy, but there was a feeling of emptiness that lingered in the air—a sense that it had become a refuge, a sanctuary from the outside world.
Fayne's eyes swept over the living room, lingering on the small touches that were distinctly Sable: a stack of half-read novels piled by the couch, a hoodie draped over the armrest, a coffee mug left forgotten on the table. She felt a strange tug at her heart, a mix of envy and sadness. This was where Raxian had been spending so much of his time—where he had become a source of strength for Sable in her most fragile moments. It felt raw, intimate, and in some way, painfully beautiful. They needed each other, she thought, her chest tightening. Two broken souls who found solace in the pieces they tried to hold together.
Meanwhile, Raze's gaze landed on the shoes neatly lined up by the door, one of which he recognized as Raxian's. It struck him just how much responsibility had fallen on Rax's shoulders—how he had taken on a role far greater than just a friend. It was more than admiration; it was pride, seeing his "brother" step up in a way that most people his age couldn't imagine. Raze knew Sable's dad must have seen that strength in Raxian too—the trust he had placed in him to keep his daughter safe. And Rax had done it, despite everything that had been thrown at them.
They stood together in the quiet of the living room, both feeling the weight of what this place represented. It wasn't just Sable's apartment—it was where Raxian had poured his heart and soul into supporting someone who had lost nearly everything. They were family, bound not by blood but by the shared battles and the wounds they all carried.
Fayne felt a flicker of guilt—this place was a world she had never been a part of, a struggle she had never fully understood. She now saw Raxian as her brother, her protector, but now she realized he had grown in ways she hadn't even noticed, building a bond with Sable that transcended the pain they'd both endured.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps above, the floorboards creaking as Raxian moved quickly through the apartment. He was searching, calling Sable's name, but still, there was no answer.
Upstairs, Raxian's heart sank as he pushed open the door to Sable's room. It was empty, the bed made but the blankets slightly rumpled as if she had been there recently. Her desk was scattered with notes and papers, some of which he recognized as schoolwork she had been too distracted to complete. Everything was exactly as he had left it that morning, but something felt off.
He tried calling her name again, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Sable... it's me. Where are you?" But only the quiet returned his call.
Raxian's gaze landed on her nightstand, where his own hoodie lay folded neatly on top of a stack of notebooks. She had borrowed it a while ago, and it had stayed there ever since, like a small comfort she couldn't let go of. His chest tightened, a mix of fear and guilt twisting inside him. If something had happened—if Lynx had gotten close enough to harm her while he was away...
No, he thought fiercely, his fists clenching. She's alright. She has to be.
He moved through the room, checking every corner, every closet, but there was no sign of her. Finally, he sank down onto the edge of her bed, staring down at his phone. Still no response. His thumb hovered over her contact, debating whether to call again. Then he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
"Rax?" It was Raze, his voice low and cautious as he stepped into the room. "Did you find her?"
Raxian looked up, his expression a mixture of frustration and fear. "No," he said hoarsely, shaking his head. "She's not here. I don't know where she could've gone..."
Raze's face tightened, and he walked over to place a hand on Rax's shoulder. "We'll find her," he said, his voice firm. "We'll figure this out. She's tough—you know that."
But Raxian barely heard him, his mind racing. He could feel panic clawing at the edges of his thoughts, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus. Sable wouldn't just leave without a word—something had to have happened.
He glanced down at his phone one more time, his thumb tapping out a quick message to her, even though he knew it might not reach her: Where are you? Please. Answer me.
Raxian's breath was shallow, panic threatening to claw its way up his throat. The apartment felt empty, hollow—a silent reminder that Sable was gone. He forced himself to stay composed, his thoughts racing. She had been fine that morning, hadn't she? But something was wrong now, and every second felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.
"She told me where she was going," Rax muttered to himself, his mind churning through fragments of memory. He knew the place, remembered exactly where she had stormed off after their confrontation on the rooftop. He couldn't explain why, but his instincts screamed that she had gone back there. To the place where everything began.
Without another word, he pushed past Raze and Fayne, a determined look setting in his eyes. "I think I know where she is," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't wait for them to respond—he was already out the door, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Raze and Fayne exchanged a tense look. They didn't need to ask questions; the urgency in Raxian's movements was enough. "Come on," Raze said, his voice steady, even though worry lined his face. They took off after him, the cold night air hitting them like a slap as they rushed into the street.
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The three of them moved swiftly through the quiet streets, Raxian leading the way with a single-minded focus. His thoughts were a blur of panic and determination, Sable's face flashing in his mind over and over again. He had to find her. He had to make sure she was safe.
"Where are we going?" Fayne called out as they rounded a corner, her breath visible in the crisp air.
Raxian barely glanced back, his eyes dark and intense. "The spot," he said, his voice strained. "Where she—...It's where she went the last time we had a fight."
Fayne's brow furrowed, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. Raze stayed silent, his face set in determination as they continued to follow Rax. The darkness seemed to close in around them, the city's usual hum swallowed by the silence of the late hour. Only the distant sound of a passing car broke the tension.
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The three of them stood at the entrance to the alley, the shadows seeming to press in tighter around them. The distant glow of streetlights barely reached this part of town, casting long, distorted silhouettes that danced across the cracked pavement. It was eerily quiet—too quiet. Raxian's breath hitched as he took in the familiar sight. This place had become a wound in his memory, a reminder of the night Sable had been taken from him, a night he'd never forgive himself for.
"Why here?" Raze asked quietly, his eyes scanning the dark corners for any sign of movement. "Why would she go back to the one place..."
Raxian didn't answer. He didn't have to—he knew why. Sable's anger after their fight, her tendency to push the limits when she was overwhelmed, her desperate need to get away from everything... It all pointed to this place. She wouldn't want to be here, but if her emotions had gotten the better of her, she might have been drawn to the one spot that embodied her fear and defiance.
Raxian's eyes drifted to the far end of the alley, where the faded paint on the walls marked the exact spot she had described. He remembered her recounting it—how she'd stormed out into the night, her mind a blur, only to feel the growing sense of being watched. She had told him how her phone died, how the streetlights flickered, and how a shadow had moved, almost too quickly to comprehend. His stomach twisted as he imagined the terror she must have felt.
"She said she never saw him coming," Raxian murmured, more to himself than to the others. "She said it was like he was already waiting for her."
Fayne's face tightened, and Raze took a step closer, his gaze hardening with quiet resolve. This was more than just a place—it was the beginning of everything that had broken them apart, and everything that had brought them together.
Raxian's fists clenched at his sides, his heart hammering against his ribs. She wouldn't have come here, not willingly. But if there was even a chance... if her anger and frustration had driven her to confront her fear, to face the spot where everything went wrong...
His voice was rough with barely contained emotion. "We can't just stand here. If she's not here, then we find out where she went. We retrace her steps. We find her."
Fayne nodded, her expression softening with understanding. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We'll find her, Rax. Whatever it takes."
Raze didn't say anything, but the determination in his eyes said enough. This wasn't just about Sable anymore—it was about confronting the shadows that had haunted all of them since that night.
And as they stepped deeper into the alley, Raxian couldn't shake the feeling that the past was catching up to them, faster than they could run.
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At the end of the alley, a silhouette lingered, half-concealed by the darkness. It was hard to discern, a figure almost swallowed by the shadows, but there was no mistaking the sickening scene at its center—Sable, suspended above the ground. Her feet dangled inches from the pavement, her desperate gasps barely audible over the thundering in Raxian's ears. Lynx's face was cloaked in the gloom, but his hold on Sable was undeniable, his hand clamped like a vice around her throat. The faint glow of a distant streetlight caught the glimmer of his eyes, predatory and amused, as if he had been waiting for them all along.
Time fractured. Raxian's world blurred and darkened, his heartbeat a frantic, echoing thud that pounded against his ribcage. He could hardly breathe. Every second stretched into an eternity as he stood frozen, staring at the twisted tableau before him. Sable's face was drained of color, her wide eyes glazed with terror, her lips parted in a silent scream. Her gaze latched onto his—begging, pleading—and he felt himself shatter beneath its weight. His worst nightmare, a waking horror he couldn't escape.
The shadows shifted around Lynx, and the cruel, slow tightening of his hand on Sable's throat sent a ripple of panic through Raxian. It was as if Lynx was taunting him from the depths of the darkness, daring him to make a move. Raxian couldn't look away, couldn't breathe. The sight before him was a frozen scream, a snapshot of horror that would burn itself into his soul forever. His knees threatened to buckle, the chill of the night air biting into his skin, but he remained rooted, transfixed by the image of Sable dangling, her life slipping away with every ragged breath.
Raxian's throat constricted, a strangled sound clawing its way up, but no words escaped. He wanted to shout, to run, to tear her free from Lynx's merciless grasp, but his body wouldn't move. He couldn't look away from Sable's face—her eyes were rolling back, her fingers clawing weakly at Lynx's wrist. She was fading right in front of him, and he was powerless to stop it. His entire world was crumbling, shattering like glass, and the pieces were slipping through his fingers.
"Raxian..." Fayne's voice, barely a whisper, reached him from somewhere distant and far away, but he couldn't respond. All he could see was Sable—her pale face, her trembling lips, the way her feet twitched as she fought for air. His entire existence narrowed to that one unbearable sight.
Lynx's figure shifted in the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight, and his grip on Sable's throat tightened further. Her body jerked, a tiny, helpless spasm, and Raxian felt something inside him snap. His breath hitched, his vision darkening at the edges as the reality of the moment crushed him. He was going to lose her. He was going to lose Sable right there, right in front of him, because he had been too slow, too weak, too—
"Let her go!" The scream tore out of him, raw and broken, ripping through the suffocating silence of the alley. He surged forward, desperation propelling him into the darkness, but Lynx didn't flinch—he only tightened his hold, and Sable's fragile gasp of air caught and sputtered. Her eyes were glassy now, barely seeing him, and the way they dimmed twisted Raxian's heart in ways he hadn't known were possible.
"Please...!" His voice cracked, the last syllable dissolving into a ragged sob. His hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms so deeply they left crescents of blood. He wanted to rush forward, to tear Lynx away from her, but his legs felt like lead, his body paralyzed with a terror so profound it was suffocating him.
Lynx's eyes, those cold, mocking eyes, gleamed with cruel amusement as he met Raxian's gaze head-on. There was no mercy there, no hesitation—only the wicked enjoyment of a predator who had his prey exactly where he wanted them. A twisted smile tugged at the corners of his lips, barely visible in the dim light, and he raised Sable just a little higher, her feet barely touching the ground now. She let out a choked, whimpering sound, the life draining from her, and Raxian felt his entire being fracture.
"Do something!" Raze's voice, fierce and desperate, jolted Raxian back to the present, but he was lost in the horror of Sable's fading breaths, her fragile existence crumbling before him. The shadows were pressing in, choking him, the weight of his own helplessness dragging him down. He had promised to protect her, had vowed to never let this happen, and now it was happening and he couldn't—
And then Sable's lips moved. A single, voiceless plea—Rax.
Her strength was fading, her light dimming, and the sound of her unspoken word hit him like a physical blow. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't watch her die, not now, not ever.
With a strangled, desperate shout, Raxian threw himself forward, his body finally breaking free from the paralyzing grip of fear. He didn't care what happened, didn't care if Lynx tore him apart. All he knew was that he had to save her. He had to bring her back, no matter the cost.
As Raxian surged forward, Lynx's eyes narrowed, catching the feral determination in his charge. For a split second, their gazes locked—one brimming with fury, the other with cold amusement. Then, just as Raxian reached out, Lynx's grip released.
Sable fell, crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut, and Raxian barely managed to catch her before she hit the pavement. His arms wrapped around her limp form, his knees hitting the ground hard as he pulled her against him. Sable's body was terrifyingly light, her breaths coming in ragged, gasping bursts.
A shadow flickered in the corner of his vision—Lynx, retreating, vanishing into the darkness like he had never been there. Raxian's eyes darted up, searching the shadows for any trace of him, but he was already gone, swallowed by the night. The faintest echo of footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the chilling silence of the alley.
"Rax!" Fayne's voice was frantic as she and Raze rushed to his side, but Raxian barely heard her. His world had narrowed to Sable—her gasping breaths, the desperate rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers weakly clutched at his shirt.
"Sable, stay with me," Raxian's voice was hoarse, his hand trembling as he cradled her face. Her eyes fluttered, half-lidded and unfocused, but there was a spark there—a faint light fighting to stay alive. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hitching as he willed her to keep breathing, to stay conscious, to stay alive. "It's okay. I've got you. I'm here."
Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gulps, and each one felt like a tiny victory and a stabbing knife in his heart. His fingers shook as he brushed her hair back from her face, desperate to see her eyes open fully, to hear her voice, to feel her grip tighten just a little bit more.
"Rax..." she rasped, the sound barely more than a whisper. Her voice was weak, like she was speaking from miles away, but it was enough. It was enough to let him know that she was still with him. Tears blurred his vision as he held her tighter, his own breath catching in his throat.
"You're okay," he choked out, his voice breaking. "You're going to be okay."
Fayne dropped to her knees beside them, her face pale with fear. "We need to get her out of here," she said urgently, her eyes wide as she scanned the shadows, as if expecting Lynx to reappear at any moment.
"I've got her," Raxian said, his voice rough but determined as he gathered Sable into his arms. There was no time to waste, no car to whisk them away from the darkness of the alley. They were on foot, and every second mattered.
Fayne and Raze stayed close, their presence a shield against the encroaching shadows. Raxian's steps were steady, purposeful, even though his entire body felt like it was on the verge of collapse. Sable was light in his arms, too light, and her breaths were shallow against his chest—each one a fragile, fleeting promise of life.
The city felt eerily quiet around them, the late hour amplifying the sound of Raxian's footsteps on the pavement. Every corner seemed darker, every shadow deeper, but he kept moving, his eyes fixed ahead. Fayne walked just behind him, her expression a mask of determination, while Raze hovered like a silent sentinel, casting glances over his shoulder every few moments. They were vulnerable out here, and they all knew it.
Raxian's heart hammered in his chest, each beat thundering in his ears. He didn't let himself think about the weight of Sable's limp body or the terror that had gripped her eyes just moments ago. He couldn't afford to let the fear in. Not yet. He just needed to get her home—needed to get her safe.
With every step, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him—felt the fear of losing her clawing at his insides. But he held her closer, his arms tightening around her as he whispered quiet reassurances, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing.
"We're almost there," he said, more to himself than to her. "Just a little farther."
They moved through the empty streets, the city a blur of flickering streetlights and looming shadows. Time felt warped, each block stretching out endlessly, but they kept going, never slowing, never stopping.
Raxian's arms burned with the effort of carrying her, his muscles aching, but he didn't let go. He could feel her heartbeat—a faint, fragile rhythm—against his own, and it was the only thing that mattered. They passed familiar landmarks, the distance shrinking with each step, until finally, the outline of Sable's apartment building rose ahead of them, a beacon in the darkness.
Fayne rushed ahead, holding open the front door as Raxian staggered inside, Sable still cradled in his arms. He barely noticed the strain in his legs, the exhaustion weighing him down. All that mattered was the girl in his arms and the safety of the four walls that now enclosed them.
The journey felt endless, but as he carried her up the final steps to her apartment, relief began to seep through the edges of his panic. They had made it. They were home.
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Raxian lowered Sable gently onto the couch, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid she might shatter. The bruises around her neck stood out starkly against her pale skin—dark, angry marks that told the story of the night's terror without words. His hands lingered for a moment, hovering above her throat as if he could somehow erase the evidence of Lynx's cruel grip, but he pulled back, swallowing hard.
Fayne knelt beside the couch, her breath hitching at the sight of Sable's bruises, the reality of what they had almost lost sinking in. She looked up at Raxian, whose eyes were locked on Sable's face, his expression tight and filled with a storm of emotions. Fayne placed a gentle hand on Sable's arm, a silent promise that they were here, that she wasn't alone.
Raze, standing a step behind them, clenched his fists, his jaw tense. The strangle marks were all too clear—a harsh reminder of how close they had come to losing her. He took a deep breath, trying to push down the surge of anger and helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him. His gaze flickered to Raxian, whose eyes were filled with a pain that mirrored his own.
"She's breathing," Raxian said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a fragile reassurance, but the visible rise and fall of Sable's chest kept him anchored, kept him from spiraling into the fear that still gripped him. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from her face, his touch infinitely gentle.
Fayne's hand tightened around Sable's, her fingers trembling. "We got her back," she said, her voice filled with relief and raw emotion. "We saved her."
But Raxian's gaze remained fixed on the bruises around Sable's neck, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her. He had arrived just moments too late—caught in the web of shadows that Lynx wove so effortlessly. He clenched his jaw, swallowing back the wave of guilt and helplessness that surged through him.
"Yeah," he muttered, his tone low and hollow. "But we won't be so lucky next time."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the night pressing down on all of them. The marks around Sable's neck were a reminder—a promise—that this wasn't over.