The city blurred around them—neon lights flashing, distant voices blending with the pounding of their footsteps. Kyle's breath came fast and sharp, his ribs aching from Graves' strike. His grip on Gia's wrist was tight, but she never once pulled away.
Not that it mattered.
Because deep down, Kyle knew the truth. They wouldn't escape. Not this time.
"Where the hell are we even going?!" Gia panted beside him.
Kyle didn't answer. His mind was a whirlwind of calculations. Where to hide? Where to fight? How much blood could he still use?
They cut through a side alley, shadows stretching long beneath the flickering streetlights. For a second, Kyle thought—hoped—they had a chance.
Then he felt it.
A sharp, piercing heat in his shoulder.
His body jerked forward, a cold numbness spreading through his veins.
"Ah—!"
His knees buckled. His vision swam.
"Kyle!" Gia barely caught him before he hit the ground. Her hands pressed against his chest, shaking. "What—what's wrong?! Are you—?"
Then she saw it.
The dart.
Lodged deep in his shoulder, the small metal syringe pulsed with a sickly blue light. A sedative. Fast-acting.
"No—" Kyle tried to stand, to fight, but his limbs refused to move. His blood—his power—felt like it was being drained away.
And then, the footsteps came.
Gia's head snapped up.
From the alley's entrance, figures emerged—six, no, eight men, all clad in The Order's black tactical gear. Graves stood at the center, adjusting his gloves like he had all the time in the world.
"That was disappointing," he said, voice calm, almost amused. "I expected more from you, Kyle."
Kyle growled, trying to push himself up. His vision flickered. The sedative was burning through his system too fast.
"Gia…" His voice slurred. "Run—"
"I'm not leaving you!"
"That's cute," Graves remarked. "But pointless."
Gia shot up, fists clenched. Kyle could see the panic in her eyes, the way she shifted her weight like she was actually thinking of fighting.
Kyle wanted to laugh.
Instead, he collapsed.
"Shh, shh." Graves knelt beside him, yanking the dart from Kyle's shoulder. "Don't fight it. It's only temporary."
Kyle's fingers twitched. His blood dripped onto the pavement, forming weak, unstable shapes before dissolving.
"Gia…" he tried again, but his voice was barely a whisper.
Gia moved.
A sharp inhale. Then a sudden dash.
She was fast, faster than they expected. She turned, making a break for the alley's exit—
But she never made it.
One of the agents grabbed her from behind, locking an arm around her waist. Gia let out a furious scream, kicking, thrashing—but she wasn't strong enough.
"KYLE!"
Kyle's head jerked up. His heart froze.
Graves sighed. "And here I was, going to let her walk away." He stood, brushing dust off his sleeve. "But I guess you two come as a set."
Gia's struggles slowed, her eyes locking onto Kyle's. "Don't you dare give up," she gritted out.
Kyle tried to reach for her, but his arms barely moved.
He wanted to fight.
He wanted to kill them.
But the world was already slipping into darkness.
The last thing he saw was Gia's terrified face as they dragged her away.
Then—nothing.
_______