The storm had turned violent. Rain didn't fall—it assaulted the abandoned warehouse, hammering metal sheets and shattering the fragile silence between crashes of thunder. Each drop pounded against her shoulders like a warning, each flash of lightning illuminating the jagged shadows that seemed to breathe around her.
Viviana's boots splashed through puddles that reflected the chaotic light. Every nerve in her body screamed that she wasn't alone. Her mind cataloged every sound: the hiss of water, the creak of old beams, the far-off rumble of thunder. And then she heard it—a deliberate scraping of metal, slow and precise, echoing through the cavernous warehouse.
Her chest tightened. She crouched behind a stack of crates, peering into the darkness. Movement. A figure emerged, gliding through the shadows like a predator. Her mind tried to make sense of it. Daniel? Damilo? No. This presence was different: heavier, colder, deliberate.
"Viviana." The voice was low, smooth, deliberate. It carried authority, threat, and something unyielding beneath it. "You weren't supposed to find this place."
Viviana pressed herself closer to the crates, eyes scanning for escape routes, weapons, anything. The warehouse stretched endlessly, a maze of shadows and debris. There was no clear exit, only dark corridors and looming danger.
The figure advanced. Lightning flashed, revealing a glint—knife or gun, she couldn't tell. Panic surged. She had no weapons. Only her instincts.
Her feet moved before her mind could. She bolted, dodging stacks of crates, splashing through puddles that echoed like gunfire. Behind her, the shadow followed, silent, relentless. Every step drove her deeper into the labyrinthine warehouse. She stumbled once, narrowly catching herself before falling into a puddle. Her lungs burned. Her heart pounded.
Another crash shook the warehouse. A metal beam above twisted and fell, sending rain and shards of rust down. Viviana ducked instinctively, heart in her throat. The storm was violent, yes—but this wasn't natural.
From the far end, another figure appeared, watching. Two? No. Too dangerous. She spun and ran blindly. The warehouse seemed alive, each shadow conspiring against her.
Lightning illuminated the space, and she glimpsed her pursuer's face: sharp, calculated, inhuman in its focus. He wasn't here for negotiation—he was here to hunt.
A narrow passage offered a risky escape. She squeezed through, scraping her shoulder against a crate. Pain shot through her arm, but she didn't stop. Behind her, a grunt of frustration: he wasn't flawless, but he was fast.
Rain poured through the roof, soaking her and blinding her. Her foot slipped. She tumbled across concrete, scraping her side, gasping as she scrambled up. The shadow was closer. Each breath she took was stolen by fear, each step heavy with exhaustion.
Then—silence.
***
The storm still roared, but inside the warehouse, the shadows seemed to pause. Viviana froze, straining her ears. Movement shifted—a crate slid. Too deliberate to be random. She had led herself into a trap.
The shadow emerged. In the flickering light, she could see him clearly: tall, powerful, poised. Knife or gun in hand, every motion precise. He wasn't here to bargain.
"You shouldn't have come here," he said. Cold. Controlled. "Now, you belong to this moment."
Viviana's mind raced. She grabbed a broken plank from the floor. He lunged—not with a weapon, but with brute force. She rolled, scraping her arm. Pain flared.
Another crash. The far wall buckled. Debris and water rushed toward her. Viviana leapt instinctively, narrowly avoiding a falling beam. Her pursuer paused, calculating. He wasn't perfect, but he was relentless.
Her only option: the narrow catwalk she had seen earlier. She sprinted toward the ladder. Slippery rungs cut her palms. She climbed, fingers shaking, heart pounding. The shadow followed, deliberate, calculating every movement.
Lightning revealed another figure—third? Viviana froze. The warehouse was not a hunt ground—it was a trap.
She had to gamble: leap the catwalk or face them head-on. Fear gripped her, but instinct overrode it. She ran, jumped. Pain shot through her legs on impact. She had made it.
A narrow exit appeared: a rusty door leading outside. Her hands were slick with rain and blood. The lock resisted. Behind her, the shadow advanced, closer than ever. She forced the door open, tumbled into torrential rain, and slammed it shut.
For a heartbeat, nothing. The storm roared, hiding everything. Viviana pressed against the wall, soaked, shaking. She had escaped… for now.
Lightning flashed. At the street's edge, a figure stood, watching. Waiting.
Viviana's chest tightened. This was far from over. The storm was nothing compared to the danger lurking closer than she had imagined.
And somewhere in the shadows, a plan was unfolding—a plan that would leave her fighting not just for survival, but for every secret she had ever held.