Charlotte's breath misted in the cool night air as she leaned against the peeling lamppost outside the café. Beside her, Sam was scrawling notes in a pocket-sized journal, the light of the flickering streetlamp illuminating his furrowed brow.
"It's tonight," Charlotte said, her voice steady but low. "We've waited long enough."
Sam nodded without looking up, his pencil scratching against the paper. "Weeks of watching Maya go about her life. Weeks of trying to figure out if she knows what she is." He glanced up at Charlotte, his dark eyes serious. "We have no other choice."
Charlotte exhaled sharply, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. Inside was everything they needed: zip ties, a roll of duct tape, and a syringe filled with a sedative they'd managed to procure from a shady connection Sam had through his older brother.
"Do you really think she's one of them?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.
"She has to be," Charlotte replied. "We've seen the signs. The shadows following her. The way lights flicker when she's upset. And then there's the symbol—on her wrist. It's the same one we found in all the research."
Sam nodded, though his fingers drummed nervously against the journal. "Alright. Let's go over the plan one more time."
Charlotte took out a folded map of their town and spread it out on the bench beside them. Maya's house was marked with a red circle, and several routes away from it were highlighted in yellow.
"She always takes the same path home from her evening class," Charlotte began. "We'll intercept her here." She pointed to a narrow alleyway that cut between a row of old buildings. "It's secluded, and the streetlights are broken. Perfect spot."
"And if someone sees us?" Sam asked.
"They won't," Charlotte said firmly. "But if they do, we stick to the story. She's our friend, she's had a bit too much to drink, and we're helping her home. We keep it simple."
Sam nodded, though the unease on his face hadn't dissipated. "And after?"
Charlotte hesitated, her gaze dropping to the map. "We take her to the warehouse. It's abandoned, and no one goes near it. We'll keep her there until we figure out how to make her talk."
Sam closed his journal with a snap. "Alright. Let's do this."
Meanwhile, Elsewhere
Liam wandered through the park, kicking at fallen leaves as he walked. The sun had long since set, and the chill in the air made him pull his jacket tighter around himself. He should have been heading back to his uncle's house—it was late, and he knew he'd get an earful if he stayed out much longer. But the thought of returning to that gloomy, suffocating place made his stomach churn.
Instead, he drifted aimlessly, his thoughts a tangled mess. He hadn't seen much of Charlotte or Sam lately; they'd been acting strange, whispering to each other and avoiding him whenever he tried to ask what was going on. And then there was Maya. Something about her had always seemed off, but Liam couldn't put his finger on what it was.
He stopped by the old fountain at the center of the park and sat on the edge, staring into the murky water. The faint hum of music from a nearby bar reached his ears, mingling with the rustling of leaves. For a moment, he felt almost at peace.
On the other side of town, Robbie was lounging against the hood of a beat-up car with his friends. They'd been drinking and joking around for hours, their laughter echoing in the quiet street. Robbie's carefree grin hid the nagging feeling that he should have been somewhere else—doing something more important.
"Hey, you're zoning out," one of his friends said, nudging him. "What's up?"
Robbie shook his head. "Nothing. Just tired."
His friend shrugged and took another swig of his beer. Robbie glanced at his phone, half-expecting a message from Liam or the others, but there was nothing. He shoved it back into his pocket, forcing himself to join in the laughter, even as a strange sense of unease prickled at the back of his mind.
Maya was walking home, her headphones in and her backpack slung over one shoulder. The street was quiet, save for the occasional rumble of a passing car. She didn't notice the two figures lurking in the shadows of the alleyway until it was too late.
"Now," Charlotte whispered.
Sam stepped out first, blocking Maya's path. She stopped abruptly, pulling out her headphones and looking up at him in confusion.
"Sam? What are you doing—"
Before she could finish, Charlotte appeared behind her, a cloth pressed tightly over her mouth and nose. Maya struggled, her eyes wide with panic, but the sedative worked quickly. Her movements slowed, and she slumped in Charlotte's arms.
"Help me," Charlotte hissed, struggling to support Maya's weight.
Charlotte and Sam stopped near the car, Maya slumped between their arms. The darkness around them was heavy, almost suffocating, but that wasn't what weighed on Charlotte.
They'd managed to knock her out, to carry her here unseen. Everything had gone perfectly, as if they were following a script rehearsed a hundred times. And yet, just as they were about to place Maya in the back seat, a wave of doubt surged through Charlotte.
"Wait," she murmured, her voice tight.
Sam frowned, his grip on Maya loosening slightly. "What? What's wrong?"
Charlotte didn't answer immediately. She studied Maya, her peaceful face, her limp, defenseless body. Too peaceful. Too easy.
"Don't you think this is strange?" she finally asked, scanning the street as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows.
Sam shrugged, sweat beading on his forehead. "Strange how? We stuck to the plan. It's normal for things to go smoothly. That's what we prepared for."
Charlotte shook her head, her fingers digging into Maya's arms. "No, that's just it. It's too smooth. She should have fought back. She should've... done something. She's a Key-Bearer, Sam. We know what that means. People like her aren't supposed to be this... vulnerable."
Sam squinted at her, trying to mask his unease. "She didn't see us coming. She was alone, distracted... That's why we picked this moment."
"But think about everything we've seen," Charlotte countered, her voice rising slightly despite herself. "The lights flickering when she's upset. The shadows moving around her. She's not some ordinary girl. She should've... I don't know, defended herself. Something doesn't add up."
Sam swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the empty street. "Look, if we stand around second-guessing ourselves, someone's gonna see us. Let's get her in the car, and we'll figure it out later."
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but something caught her attention. Maya was still limp in their arms, but a cold shiver ran down Charlotte's spine as she noticed something she hadn't seen before: a faint twitch in Maya's hand.
"Sam," she whispered, her tone suddenly sharp.
"What now?" Sam asked, exasperated.
"Look at her hand."
Sam glanced down, but by the time he looked, Maya was still again. Her fingers lay motionless, as if she were deeply asleep.
"You're imagining things," he said, though his voice carried a hint of unease.
"Maybe," Charlotte muttered, but she didn't believe it for a second.
She stared at Maya for a moment longer, her mind racing with a thought she didn't dare speak aloud. This was all too perfect, too smooth, as if someone—or something—wanted them to catch her.
"We need to hurry," she finally said. But as they moved to lay Maya onto the back seat, a distant thud echoed in the quiet night. Charlotte froze, her senses on high alert.
"What was that?" Sam asked, instinctively turning toward the direction of the noise.
Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, something shifted at the edge of her vision. She spun around, her heart pounding, but there was nothing.
Nothing, except for the unsettling feeling that they weren't alone.
Sam hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, helping to lift Maya's limp body. Together, they carried her back down the alleyway toward their waiting car.
But as they reached the end of the alley, a voice stopped them in their tracks.
"What the hell are you doing?"
They turned, their hearts pounding, to see Dave standing a few feet away, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. His gaze shifted from Maya's unconscious form to the guilty expressions on Charlotte and Sam's faces.
"Is that... Maya?" Dave demanded, his voice rising with disbelief. "What are you—"
"Dave," Charlotte interrupted, her voice sharp. "This isn't what it looks like."
But Dave wasn't listening. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "I'm calling the cops."
"No!" Sam shouted, lunging toward him.
The phone clattered to the ground, and the alley erupted into chaos.