The handle moves again—CLINK… CREAK—slow, deliberate.
"Don't open that door," the driver whispers, eyes wide.
"It's not us," I reply, my voice barely steady.
Outside, a shadow passes in front of the narrow window—SHIFT—blocking the tunnel light for a heartbeat too long.
Paramedic 1 presses harder against Serafin's chest—THUMP… THUMP—each compression jarring his fragile body.
"Come on," he mutters through clenched teeth. "Stay with us."
The monitor whines weakly—BEEP… BEEP…—uneven, fragile.
I lean over Serafin, my forehead nearly touching his. "You hear that?" I whisper. "They're still calling you back. Don't make liars out of them."
His lips part. No sound comes out.
"Caoimhe," Paramedic 2 snaps. "If they breach the vehicle—"
The door handle jerks sharply—RATTLE—cutting him off.
"Open it," a calm voice says from the other side.
Every muscle in my body locks.
"Open. The. Door."
The driver shakes his head. "I'm not doing that."
The voice sighs, almost bored. "You really don't want me breaking it instead."
The handle twists again—METAL GROAN—and the door dents inward slightly.
"Fuck," the driver breathes.
Paramedic 1 looks at me, sweat dripping down his temple. "I can't do both."
I look between the door and Serafin—between threat and life.
"Keep working," I say sharply. "I'll handle the door."
The driver stares at me. "You're unarmed."
"I'm not harmless," I reply, surprising even myself.
I step toward the rear doors, heart slamming—THUD THUD THUD—and plant my feet.
"Who are you?" I call out.
A pause.
Then the voice answers, closer now. "Someone cleaning up a mess."
"That mess is dying," I snap. "So congratulations."
A soft chuckle. "Not yet."
The handle stops moving.
"Caoimhe," the voice says gently. "You've always had a habit of putting yourself where you don't belong."
My stomach tightens. "You know me."
"I know of you," he corrects. "You vanish. You resurface. You leave wreckage."
"You tried to kill him," I hiss.
"No," he says calmly. "I tried to retrieve him."
"Bullshit."
The handle turns suddenly—CRACK—metal bending further.
"Thirty seconds," the voice says. "Then I come in."
Paramedic 2 swears. "We're losing him."
The monitor dips again—BEEP…—longer pause—BEEP—too slow.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no."
Paramedic 1 slams his palms down again—THUMP—then shocks—WHINE—ZAP—Serafin's body jerks violently.
I flinch. "Serafin!"
Nothing.
The monitor emits a flat, piercing tone—BEEEEEEEEEP—and the world narrows to that sound.
"No," I choke. "Please—please—"
"Caoimhe," Paramedic 1 says urgently. "We're not done yet."
Outside, footsteps shift closer—STEP… STEP—unhurried.
"Ten seconds," the voice says.
I spin toward the door, fury burning through the panic. "If you come in here—"
"You'll what?" the voice interrupts mildly. "Bleed on me?"
I grab the fire extinguisher from its bracket—CLANG—hands shaking.
The driver stares. "Jesus Christ."
"I said I wasn't harmless," I mutter.
The handle moves again—SCREEECH—metal finally giving way.
"Five," the voice counts.
The monitor flickers—BEEP… BEEP—weak but present.
Paramedic 1 gasps. "We've got something."
"Serafin," I whisper desperately. "Come back."
The door bursts inward—BANG—and cold tunnel air rushes in.
A man steps inside. Dark coat. Calm eyes. No hurry.
"Caoimhe," he says, nodding politely. "You look exhausted."
I raise the extinguisher. "Step back."
He glances at it, unimpressed. "You won't use that."
"Try me."
He studies me for a moment, then smiles faintly. "You stayed. I told them you would."
"Who's them?" I snap.
"People who don't like unpredictability," he replies.
Behind me, the monitor stutters again—BEEP… BEEP…—hanging on by a thread.
"Get out," I say. "Now."
The man's gaze flicks to Serafin. "He doesn't have long."
"I know," I spit. "That's why you're leaving."
He tilts his head. "You think I came for him?"
My chest tightens. "You said—"
"I came for you," he says simply.
The words hit harder than any blow.
"What?" I whisper.
"You're the variable," he continues. "He's just leverage."
My grip tightens on the extinguisher. "You don't get to touch either of us."
He takes one step closer—STEP.
"Caoimhe," Paramedic 2 yells. "We need space—now!"
I don't move.
The man sighs. "This is going to get messy."
Before he can move again, a distant shout echoes through the tunnel—YELL—followed by hurried footsteps—RUNNING STEPS.
"Police!" someone shouts.
The man's eyes narrow. "Seems we've run out of time."
He looks at me one last time. "This isn't over."
Then he turns and disappears back into the tunnel shadows—FOOTSTEPS FADING.
The door slams shut behind him—BANG—leaving silence in its wake.
I sag against the wall, legs shaking.
The monitor lets out a fragile rhythm—BEEP… BEEP…—still there.
Paramedic 1 exhales shakily. "He's holding."
I drop the extinguisher—CLATTER—and rush back to Serafin's side, gripping his hand like it's the only solid thing left in the world.
"I'm here," I whisper, voice breaking. "I'm still here."
Outside, sirens grow louder—WEE-OOO… WEE-OOO—closing in.
But even as help approaches, one truth settles heavy in my chest—
This was never about getting away.
It was about being found.