The Unraveling

The door creaked open, revealing a small, dimly lit room. The faint hum of a single lightbulb overhead barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows on the cracked walls. The air inside was thick, and stale, as though the room hadn't been disturbed in years.

I stepped inside cautiously, my hand instinctively moving to the gun at my side, my senses on high alert. Dante followed close behind, his presence a steady, reassuring force amid the growing tension. The room was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made my skin crawl.

The only object in the room was a chair, positioned in the center, its back facing us. And that was when I saw her.

Alina.

She was sitting there, her body stiff, her hands bound behind the chair. Her face was pale, and bruised, and I could see the remnants of blood caked at her temple. Despite her condition, her eyes were defiant—a fire that had not been extinguished, even after all that had happened.

"Alina," Dante's voice was low, a mixture of relief and frustration. "You're alive."

She didn't respond immediately, her gaze flicking over to him before returning to the floor. She was still processing the situation, I could tell. And then, her lips parted, but the words that came out were not what I expected.

"You came for me," she said, her voice hoarse, almost disbelieving. "After everything... after everything I've done, you came for me?"

Her words hung in the air, charged with confusion and guilt. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, despite the distance between us. She had been a part of the same world that had brought Dante and me together, a world we both understood all too well. But that didn't mean she was innocent. Far from it.

"You don't get to do this, Alina," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "You don't get to play the victim now."

She met my gaze, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something raw. "I'm not playing the victim, Elizabeth. I've been running for my life just as much as you have. You think you know everything, but you don't."

Before I could respond, Dante stepped forward, his hand on my arm to stop me from pushing further. "Not now," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Alina's face. "We're here to get you out of here. You can explain everything later."

Alina's gaze softened slightly, but the hardness in her features didn't entirely fade. She didn't trust us, not fully, and who could blame her? We had all been on different sides of a dangerous game for so long, our paths never crossing except as adversaries.

I glanced at Dante, seeing the conflict in his eyes. He wanted answers, but I knew he also wanted to get her out of there before Viktor could make another move.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a faint sound—a rustling, followed by the soft thud of footsteps. My pulse quickened.

"We're not alone," I whispered, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun in my holster.

Dante nodded, signaling for the men to fan out, his eyes hardening with the realization that the trap we had been walking into was much larger than we had anticipated.

"Stay close," he ordered, his voice low and tense. "Alina, you're coming with us."

But Alina shook her head, her expression hardening once again. "I can't. I won't."

I frowned, stepping closer to her. "You don't have a choice. If you don't come with us now, Viktor will kill you."

She lifted her head, eyes flashing with anger. "You think I don't know that?" she snapped. "But if I leave, Viktor will come after everyone I care about. I won't be a pawn in your game anymore, Dante. You don't get to decide what happens to me."

Her words cut through the air like a blade, and for a moment, I felt the weight of them. She was right. We had used her, manipulated her, just as Viktor had. It was a cycle, and none of us were innocent.

I could see the struggle in Dante's eyes, but his resolve remained unbroken. "This isn't a game, Alina," he said quietly. "It's about survival. If you don't come with us now, you'll die here. There's no other choice."

She hesitated, her eyes darting between Dante and me. The tension in the room was unbearable, and the footsteps grew louder and closer. There was no more time for talk.

"Alina," I said, my voice steady despite the fear creeping in. "This is your last chance."

For a long moment, she didn't speak, her gaze locked on Dante, then me. Finally, she sighed and nodded, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world had come crashing down on her. "Fine," she whispered. "I'll go. But you're not saving me. I'm saving myself."

With that, Dante moved to untie her hands, his movements swift but careful. As he freed her, Alina didn't seem grateful—she seemed resigned, as though she knew the war was far from over.

And just as Dante finished, the door behind us exploded inward, splintering into pieces.

I didn't need to look to know who it was.

Viktor.

"Leaving so soon?" His voice rang out, cold and mocking. "I don't think so."

Before any of us could react, a sharp pain pierced my side, and I stumbled back, the world spinning as the darkness threatened to take over.