The door groaned as we pushed it open—creeeaaak—a long, tired sound, like the building itself was protesting our presence.
Cold air rushed out to meet us, damp and metallic. Mold. Rust. Old oil.
I swallowed hard. "This place is a fucking tomb."
Serafin's hand tightened around mine. "Stay close."
The door slammed shut behind us—BANG—so loud I yelped, heart leaping straight into my throat.
"What the hell—" Serafin spun, yanking the handle.
Locked.
"Someone's here," I whispered.
Lights flickered overhead—fzzzt… click—then stabilized into a dull yellow glow. Long shadows stretched across concrete floors. Dust motes floated in the air like suspended breath.
A voice echoed from deeper inside. Calm. Controlled.
"Further in."
Serafin stepped forward instinctively, pulling me with him. "You don't get to give orders."
"You came," the voice replied. "That suggests you still listen."
My jaw clenched. "Show yourself."
Footsteps approached—tap… tap… tap—measured and unhurried. A man stepped into the light, older than I expected. Late forties. Clean jacket. No weapon visible.
I stared at him. "I don't know you."
His mouth curved slightly. "That's the point."
Serafin squared his shoulders. "You threatened people."
"I made predictions," the man corrected. "People chose their own outcomes."
"That's bullshit," I snapped. "You manipulated everything."
He studied me carefully. "You always had a strong sense of causality."
My stomach twisted. "You knew me before."
"I knew of you," he said. "Before you left."
Serafin bristled. "You're going to explain who you are."
The man nodded. "Fair."
He gestured toward a metal table in the center of the room. "Sit."
"No," Serafin said immediately.
The man smiled thinly. "I wasn't asking."
A door behind us opened—CLANG—and heavy footsteps echoed briefly before stopping. I didn't turn around, but I felt it. The pressure. The presence.
Serafin swore softly. "How many?"
"Enough," the man replied.
I inhaled slowly. "You said he wasn't alone."
"No," the man said. "I said you didn't understand what he was protecting."
"And what was that?" I asked.
He leaned back against the table. "The system."
Serafin scoffed. "There's no system. Just corruption."
"There's always a system," the man replied. "You just don't see it until you're crushed by it."
My chest felt tight. "You covered for him."
"We contained damage," he said. "Your old friend made a mistake. Emotional. Sloppy."
"You're talking about him like he was a broken machine," I said. "He raped someone."
The word hung heavy in the air.
The man didn't flinch. "And that was never part of the agreement."
Serafin snapped, "Agreement?"
The man nodded once. "Power requires compromise. Silence. People in this town stayed safe because certain stories never surfaced."
I laughed—sharp, shaking. "You call that safety?"
"I call it survival," he replied. "No investigations. No scandals. No external interference."
"You let monsters walk free," I said.
"And you lived," he shot back. "Until you remembered."
That hit harder than anything else.
Serafin growled, "You're blaming her?"
"I'm explaining consequence," the man said calmly. "You think truth exists in a vacuum?"
I stepped closer, rage burning through the fear. "You don't get to decide who gets sacrificed."
He met my gaze. "Someone always does."
Silence fell thick and suffocating—drip… drip—water leaking somewhere overhead.
"You left once," the man continued. "Things stabilized. You came back. Everything fractured."
"So your solution was to scare me into silence?" I said.
"Yes."
"And if that didn't work?"
His eyes flicked briefly to the shadows. "Escalation."
Serafin moved in front of me. "You touch her, this ends badly."
The man chuckled. "Violence isn't the point. Control is."
I clenched my fists. "What do you want now?"
He straightened. "To see if you're worth the disruption."
"Meaning?" I asked.
"Meaning whether you speak again," he said. "Whether you push further."
Serafin snapped, "You don't own her."
"No," the man agreed. "But the system will respond to her."
My phone buzzed—bzzzzt—in my pocket.
The man smiled. "Go on."
I pulled it out. A photo loaded slowly.
It was of my childhood home.
Fresh.
Lights on inside.
My breath hitched. "Who's there?"
"People you don't want hurt," he replied.
Serafin's voice dropped dangerously low. "You said this wasn't about threats."
"It's about leverage," the man corrected. "Every truth has a cost."
I felt dizzy. "You're forcing me to choose."
"I'm showing you the equation," he said. "Silence equals stability. Noise equals chaos."
Serafin shook his head. "She's not your variable."
The man's gaze hardened. "Everyone is a variable."
I stepped forward again, heart pounding. "If I stop—if I disappear—this ends?"
"For now," he said.
"And if I don't?"
The lights flickered—fzzzt—once, twice.
"Then the system corrects itself."
A loud metallic sound echoed from behind us—CLANG—closer this time.
Serafin grabbed my hand. "We're leaving."
The man didn't stop us. He just watched.
"You can walk out," he said. "But you can't walk away from consequence."
We reached the door. It unlocked with a loud CLICK.
Rain roared back into my ears as we stepped outside—SHHHHH—soaking, overwhelming.
As we ran toward the car, my phone vibrated again—BZZZT.
One final message.
Decide who you are.
I slammed the door shut behind us—THUD—heart racing, lungs burning.
Serafin started the engine—VROOOOM—tires spinning briefly before catching.
As we sped away, I looked back.
The building lights shut off all at once—click—plunging everything into darkness.
And I knew, with terrifying clarity, that no matter what I chose next—
Someone was already moving to answer for me.