The car stopped with a jolt, throwing Layla forward. Her body slammed back against the seat, the pain in her side sharper now. Blood was soaking through her clothes, warm and sticky. Her breaths came shallow, rapid, her chest heaving as she fought to stay conscious.
"Get her out," Caleb said, his voice cold and detached.
Layla's head lolled to the side, her vision hazy. She could see Dani looking back at her, smirking. Dani always had that smug, "I'm smarter than you," expression, but this time it wasn't just an act.
"You really think this is it for me?" Layla croaked, her voice weak but laced with defiance.
Caleb didn't answer. He yanked her door open and grabbed her arm. She cried out as he pulled her out of the car, her feet dragging against the ground.
"Shut up," Dani snapped, stepping out of the car with a small silver gun in her hand. "You've done enough talking for a lifetime."
Layla coughed, blood speckling her lips. She tried to pull free, but her body wasn't cooperating. "You don't have the guts, Dani. You never did."
Dani knelt down beside her, grabbing Layla's face with one hand. Her grip was strong, her nails digging into Layla's skin.
"Guess you didn't plan for this, huh?" Dani hissed, her eyes narrow. "Miss Perfect Plan didn't see this coming."
Layla laughed, but it turned into a wet, choking sound. "You're idiots. Without me, you're nothing. You'll screw it all up. You always do."
Caleb shoved her down onto the damp grass by the curb, wiping his hands on his pants like she was something disgusting. He turned back toward the car without a word.
Dani crouched, lowering her voice. "You know what your problem is, Layla? You thought you were untouchable. Newsflash…you're not."
Layla glared at her, blood staining her teeth as she smiled faintly. "And you think you'll be better without me? You're pathetic. Both of you."
Dani's jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. She straightened, tossing Layla's broken phone into the gutter.
"Let's go," Caleb said from the driver's seat, already starting the engine.
Dani hesitated for half a second, then climbed back in, slamming the door behind her. The car sped off, leaving Layla crumpled on the curb like garbage.
She tried to move, but the pain was unbearable. Every breath felt like fire in her chest. Her fingers twitched, but they couldn't even curl into fists.
Her head fell back, her vision swimming with darkness. "Cowards," she whispered, her lips barely moving.
Somewhere, a light flickered on. A porch creaked as if someone had stepped outside. But the street remained quiet, the houses indifferent. No one came for her.
Tears blurred her vision. Not from fear. Not from the pain. But from anger, pure and burning.
"You'll regret this," she murmured, her voice was unsteady to herself. "You'll all regret this."
But even Layla wasn't sure if she believed it this time.
Layla's chest ached as her body lay still on the cold asphalt. Her breaths were shallow, her vision blurred. She was fading, the world around her slipping away.
Then she heard it. A sound. Soft at first, almost like a whisper. A piano.
Her eyes fluttered open, her brows knitting together. The melody drifted through the night, light and steady, each note wrapping around her like a warm hand pulling her from the edge.
"What... is that?" she muttered, her voice shaky.
As the music grew louder, something strange happened. Her body began to tingle. A sharp, hot pain shot through her wounds. She gasped, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach.
The bullets.
She felt them. Shifting. Moving.
"No... no, this can't be real," she whispered, her voice was trembling.
Her fingers clawed at the ground as she arched her back. The pain surged again, but it wasn't unbearable…it was... different. She whimpered, her breaths ragged, her heart pounding. Then she felt it: one of the bullets slid out of her wound, falling to the pavement with a metallic clink.
Her eyes widened in shock. "What the…"
Another wave of music washed over her, and another bullet was forced from her body. Her wounds... they were closing.
"This isn't real. I'm hallucinating. I have to be," she said, her voice breaking.
But it wasn't a dream. The pain dulled, fading entirely as the music continued. Her hand moved to her stomach, feeling the skin. Smooth. No blood. No wounds.
Layla sat up slowly, her mouth open in shock. She glanced down at herself, patting her body as if checking for damage.
"It's gone," she whispered. "All of it. I'm... fine."
Her breathing hitched as she looked around. The piano was still playing. The sound was clearer now, louder. Someone was playing nearby.
She pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaky but steady. Her hands trembled as she ran them over her hoodie again, still unable to believe she was standing, let alone healed.
"Who... who's doing this?" she murmured, her eyes darting around.
She followed the sound, her steps hesitant at first but growing more determined. She turned the corner and spotted a house with a faint light in one of the windows.
The piano. It was coming from there.
Layla swallowed hard, her palms sweating. "Magic? No, that's insane. But... this can't be normal."
Her feet carried her toward the house, her pulse racing. She stopped in front of the gate, her fingers curling around the cold iron bars. The music swirled through the air, drawing her closer.
She pushed the gate open and walked down the path, her eyes fixed on the house. As she reached the porch, her hand hesitated over the doorbell.
Her heart pounded as she whispered to herself, "What am I even doing?"
But she didn't turn back. Her finger pressed the button, the sound chimed through the night.
Layla took a shaky step back, her mind racing. Whoever was behind that door... they had answers. Answers she needed.
Layla pressed the doorbell again, her heart pounding in her chest. No answer.
"Great," she muttered, crossing her arms. She glanced back toward the street, unsure of what to do. The piano was still playing, clear and haunting. Whoever was inside either couldn't hear her or didn't care.
Her eyes fell on the door handle. She hesitated, biting her lip. "You shouldn't just walk into someone's house," she told herself. But then she looked down at her unscathed body, her completely healed skin.
"This isn't normal," she whispered. "I need to know."
Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle. It clicked. The door swung open.
Layla stepped inside, her shoes crunching on something. She looked down and saw broken glass scattered across the floor. The hallway was dark, faintly lit by the moonlight streaming through a window. She moved carefully, stepping over a toppled lamp and what looked like a pile of magazines.
The house was a mess. Furniture overturned, papers scattered, and the air felt heavy, like it hadn't been aired out in weeks.
The piano sounds were louder now, coming from deeper inside. She followed them, her heart thudding louder with each step.
She reached a doorway at the end of the hall and stopped. Her breath caught in her throat.
There, in the middle of the room, sat a man at a grand piano. His fingers moved across the keys effortlessly, the melody pouring out of the instrument like it was alive.
Goosebumps prickled across her skin. She shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. The music wasn't just beautiful—it was powerful. She felt it in her chest, her head, her very soul. Her pain, her anger, her betrayal—it all seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange calmness.
"What... what is this?" she murmured, her voice shaking.
The man didn't look up. His posture was rigid, his head slightly tilted as if he was lost in the music. She stepped closer, her foot creaking on the wooden floor.
Suddenly, the music stopped.
"Who are you?"
The voice was loud, sharp, and grumpy, piercing through the air like a whip.
Layla froze, her mouth slightly open. The man's tone was bitter, full of annoyance.
"I... I'm…"
"Answer me," he snapped, still not turning around. His fingers hovered over the keys, but they didn't play.
Layla's heart raced, her hands clenching at her sides. She had walked into something far bigger than she'd imagined.