The honeymoon suite was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the casino below. Two enforcers in sharp suits stood outside the door, exchanging bored glances as they balanced a tray of food precariously between them.
"Alright, let's get this over with," one of them muttered, knocking sharply.
There was no answer.
The taller enforcer frowned, his crimson eyes narrowing. "She's probably sulking again." He reached for the handle, pushing the door open. The suite was immaculate, its grandiose furnishings gleaming under the artificial light. But the bed was untouched, the room unnervingly empty.
"Not again," the shorter enforcer groaned, setting the tray down on a side table. "It's like clockwork with her."
"Every. Single. Day." The taller one gritted his teeth, scanning the room with growing irritation. He stepped toward the open balcony, peering over the railing into the neon-lit abyss below. "You'd think she'd learn by now."
"She's a slippery one," the shorter enforcer grumbled, crossing his arms. "And if the boss finds out—"
"He already has," a voice cut in smoothly from behind.
The enforcers froze. Slowly, they turned to find Al Capone leaning casually in the doorway, his wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his crimson eyes. He took a drag from his cigar, the glowing tip casting brief flickers of light across his sharp features.
"Well, boys?" Capone drawled, exhaling a plume of crimson smoke. "Care to explain why the guest of honor isn't where she's supposed to be?"
"She—uh—" the taller enforcer stammered, sweat beading on his brow. "She slipped out, boss. Just stepped out, probably."
"Right," Capone said, his tone deceptively light. He stepped into the room, his polished shoes clicking ominously against the marble floor. "And you two were just about to find her, weren't you?"
"Absolutely, boss!" the shorter one blurted, snapping to attention.
Capone's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Then get moving. Now."
The enforcers didn't wait for further instruction, scrambling out of the room as Capone watched them go. He took another drag of his cigar, muttering under his breath. "Kids these days."
---
Lila darted through the dimly lit corridors of the casino, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest as she wove between slot machines and card tables, the cacophony of the casino's twisted games ringing in her ears. She didn't look back. She didn't need to. She could hear their hurried footsteps echoing behind her.
"There she is!" one of the enforcers shouted, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife.
Lila cursed under her breath, ducking under a low railing and bolting down a narrow hallway. She knew the layout of the casino better than she'd care to admit, having escaped and been dragged back too many times to count. But tonight, something felt different. The air was heavier, the shadows deeper, and the whispers… louder.
"Stop running, sweetheart," the shorter enforcer called, his tone mockingly sweet. "You're just making this harder on yourself."
Lila didn't answer. Her only response was to push herself harder, her legs burning as she sprinted toward the service stairs. She slammed the door open, the sound echoing through the stairwell, and began climbing.
"Give it up!" the taller enforcer shouted, his footsteps pounding behind her. "You can't run from us—or the Core."
At the mention of the Core, Lila faltered. Her foot slipped, and she barely caught herself on the railing. The hesitation was enough. A strong hand grabbed her arm, yanking her backward.
"Gotcha," the shorter enforcer said with a grin, dragging her back down the stairs. She struggled, kicking and clawing, but his grip was like iron.
"Let me go!" Lila shouted, her voice shaking with desperation. "I can't stay here!"
"You don't have a choice," the taller enforcer said, grabbing her other arm. Together, they dragged her back down the stairs, her protests echoing in the confined space.
As they reached the bottom, the air around them seemed to shift. The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier, and the whispers grew louder, swirling around Lila like a storm.
"Answer me, Lila," a voice called, low and resonant, filling the corridor with its presence. The Core's voice. "Why do you resist? Let me help you."
Lila froze, her struggles ceasing as the enforcers tightened their grip. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Help me?"
"Yes," the Core said, its tone dripping with false warmth. "Say the word, and I will make this suffering end."
The enforcers glanced at each other uneasily, their grips slackening. Lila's head bowed, her voice trembling. "I… I don't know what to do."
"Trust me," the Core coaxed. "Call for me, and I will come."
Tears streamed down Lila's face as she whispered, "Help me."
The air around them warped, twisting violently as a dark root burst forth from the floor, its surface writhing with crimson veins. The enforcers recoiled, releasing Lila as the root coiled around her, pulling her toward the jagged tear in reality that had formed.
"No!" one of the enforcers shouted, reaching for her. But it was too late. The root tightened its grip, dragging Lila into the darkness.
The tear sealed with a deafening crack, leaving only silence in its wake. The enforcers stood frozen, their faces pale.
"Boss isn't gonna like this," the shorter one muttered.
"No," a voice drawled behind them. They turned to see Al Capone, his hat tilted low and his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. He took a slow drag, exhaling smoke that curled lazily in the air. "Boss ain't gonna like this one bit."
He stared at the spot where the tear had been, his crimson eyes narrowing. "If the Sentinel finds out about this," he muttered, running a hand down his face, "we're all screwed."