The forest presses in around us—RUSTLE RUSTLE—branches snapping beneath boots. My lungs burn with every ragged inhale—HAAH HAAH. The night smells damp, thick with earth and fear.
"Stay close," Serafin whispers, eyes scanning the darkness. "They're surrounding us."
I grip his arm tightly. "How can you know?"
"They've been organized since the morning," he says flatly. "Every move we made—they anticipated."
A twig snaps sharply—SNAP—too close. I jump, yanking back, but Serafin steadies me with a firm hand.
"They're testing our reactions," he mutters. "Seeing if we'll break."
"Then we'll break them first," I snap, heart hammering.
He doesn't respond immediately. Only nods, eyes cold and calculating.
A distant engine revs—VROOOOM—then fades, the echo bouncing through the trees. Footsteps scatter through underbrush—CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH—and my stomach twists. They're everywhere.
"Up ahead," Serafin murmurs. "That abandoned service road—take it. Faster than the tree line."
I nod, following him, boots slipping in mud—SQUELCH—branches tearing at my sleeves—RIP.
"Do you think they'll shoot?" I ask, voice trembling.
Serafin glances back briefly, jaw tight. "If they have to. We can't let that stop us."
We reach the cracked asphalt. Moonlight glints off the puddles—GLINT—and I see tire tracks leading further down the road.
A shout erupts behind us—YELL—followed by rapid footsteps—THUMP THUMP THUMP.
"They're splitting," Serafin says. "One group follows us, the other flanks the clearing."
I bite my lip. "So what now?"
"We run," he says. "And pray we choose the right path."
I glance toward the trees. Shadowed figures move between trunks—SWISH SWISH. Their presence is deliberate, orchestrated. Every instinct screams that we're already in their trap.
Suddenly, a gunshot—BANG!—splashes into the ground inches from my foot. Mud flies—SPLASH.
"Move!" Serafin roars, grabbing my hand. We sprint along the asphalt—CRUNCH CRUNCH—branches whipping past.
Another shot—BANG!—this one hits the asphalt between us. Sparks of stone and gravel kick up.
"I can't!" I scream. Fear bites so deep I feel frozen in place.
"Yes, you can!" Serafin shouts. "Not if we stop!"
We leap over a fallen guardrail—THUMP—landing in a ditch. Cold water soaks our boots—SPLASH SPLASH—but we keep moving.
I stumble and fall—THUD—pain flaring along my ribs. Serafin hauls me upright instantly.
"They're close," he pants. "Closer than I want to admit."
A voice calls out faintly from behind—low, mocking. "Running won't save you."
My stomach twists. "They know our names."
"They always did," Serafin mutters grimly. "We're not the first, and probably won't be the last."
Branches snap again—CRACK—a figure emerges in the moonlight. I squint. Gun raised. Masked. Not moving yet, but watching. Calculating.
Serafin steps in front of me, fists clenched. "Caoimhe—now, you go left. I'll cover."
"No," I shout, panic rising. "We stay together!"
"You'll get both of us killed!" he snaps. His voice cracks, but determination is iron-strong. "Go!"
I hesitate—just a second—but that's all it takes. Another shot—BANG!—zips past my shoulder, tearing air.
I dive left, landing hard—THUD—scraping my palms. Serafin pushes toward the pursuer, shouting as he engages—GRUNT THUD—a struggle I can only hear, muffled, violent.
I scramble through underbrush—CRUNCH—branches whipping my face. My phone buzzes—bzzzzt—cracked screen illuminating the mud on my hands.
It's not over.
I throw the phone away instinctively. Not a signal. Not now.
Ahead, I glimpse the road curving into darkness. The sound of engines revving—VROOOOM VROOOOM—alerts me that another trap may be waiting.
Behind me, shouts and gunfire—BANG BANG—follow. My heart hammers uncontrollably—THUD THUD THUD.
I realize, with crushing clarity, that escape is no longer just about distance or speed. It's about choices. One wrong turn, one hesitation… and we're done.
Branches whip my face—SMACK—mud and leaves sticking to my skin. The road dips toward a low clearing. Headlights pierce the darkness—SWEEP SWEEP—too many, converging.
I stop, gasping, trying to see Serafin—no sign. Just the echo of his voice somewhere deeper in the woods—"Caoimhe, keep moving!"
A gunshot—BANG!—echoes off trees, closer than before.
I swallow the panic, forcing legs to move—CRUNCH CRUNCH—toward the clearing, toward whatever is waiting.
Because I understand now: survival isn't running.
It's choosing.
And tonight, that choice may cost everything.