Deborah's POV
"Drop your weapons and raise your hands."
The chilling command cut through the air like the voice of death itself, sending a shiver down my spine.
I exchanged a quick glance with Matthew, seeing only a flicker of defiance and resignation in his eyes.
Our only weapons—two rusted knives—clattered to the ground. In a world where resources were scarce, they were the best weapons we could find.
There were no guns, no advanced technology—almost like we'd been thrown back into an age of primitive warfare.
We let the knives fall from our hands, the dull clang of metal on sand echoing through the silence.
The blade shimmered faintly in the dim light, as if symbolizing the shattering of our last shred of hope.
Slowly, we raised our hands in surrender, our movements stiff and deliberate, buying us precious seconds to think.
Turning to face the direction of the voice, I felt my mind racing at a frantic pace—how could we escape?
We were already outside Murias, standing on the unfamiliar surface of the earth, yet we were far from free.
Would he drag us back to Murias, subjecting us to interrogation and torture?
Or would he kill us right here, leaving our bodies to rot in the sand?
Everything teetered on the edge of uncertainty, and I had no control. I cursed myself for not foreseeing this moment.
We turned to face our captor, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was him.
Chad Baker.
How is he here?
In my past life, my entire family had been wiped out because of him. I had died at his hands.
And now, he stood before me once again, tall and unyielding, exuding the same cold authority as always.
He was the one person I despised more than anyone else in this world.
The love I once had for him had long since turned into a searing hatred.
I couldn't tear my gaze away from his face, even though every part of me screamed to look away. I found myself trapped by those familiar eyes—a dark, penetrating gaze that seemed to search the depths of my soul.
Wait—was that recognition?
[Lianora?]
My old name seemed to shimmer in his eyes, like a forgotten memory surfacing for the briefest of moments.
No, he couldn't recognize me! He mustn't recognize me.
His grip on the gun was steady, the barrel unwavering as it pointed directly at us.
His gaze shifted back and forth between me and Matthew, as if trying to unravel a puzzle.
He stepped closer, each movement measured and deliberate.
I could feel his suspicion, the weight of his scrutiny.
I forced myself to breathe evenly, my pulse pounding in my ears.
He won't recognize me. He can't recognize me.
I clenched my thoughts shut, fearing he might have some way of sensing my innermost feelings.
When Chad finally stopped just a few paces away, his gaze bore into mine, brow furrowed in concentration. His face was close—too close. I could almost feel his breath.
[No, she's not Lianora.]
The tension in my body ebbed, and I nearly sagged with relief.
He hadn't read my thoughts. He hadn't discovered my true identity.
But then, his attention shifted to Matthew, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
They did look alike, more than I had realized.
Chad's expression darkened, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. But then, just as quickly, his face smoothed back into a mask of calm indifference. His lips curved into a cold, calculating smile, and his voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.
"Two little runaways, wandering outside Murias. The surface is dangerous, you know. There's no water, no food. In a few days, you'll end up nothing but shriveled corpses, lost in the desert sands."
His tone was almost conversational, as if he were explaining the rules of a casual game.
"And you?" Matthew cut in, his voice sharp and challenging. "How are you surviving out here?"
Good, he was buying me time—time to sift through my fractured memories for the right spell.
Just a few more seconds… just a little longer…
Chad hesitated for a heartbeat, then threw back his head and laughed—a harsh, grating sound that echoed in the barren wasteland around us.
"Oh, the little werewolf still has some fight left in him?" He sneered, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Fine. I'll tell you. I'm not from around here. I came from the skies. Who in their right mind would live in a place like this? You should be more worried about what lurks in the sand, boy."
With a cruel smile, he turned back to me.
"And you, little girl? Any last questions, before you die?"
I bit down on my lip, refusing to speak.
He took another step forward, eyes glinting dangerously.
The air seemed to thicken around us, suffocating in its intensity.
Without warning, Matthew lunged, moving like a coiled spring released in a burst of power. He was a blur of motion, his broad shoulders and powerful arms reaching for Chad's weapon.
A spark of hope flared to life—if we could just disarm him, we might have a chance!
But Chad was ready. He shifted his weight effortlessly, sidestepping Matthew's attack with the grace of a seasoned fighter.
They were evenly matched in strength and speed, two predators circling for the kill.
"Bang—"
The gunshot shattered the stillness.