Blood dripped from Ava's side, hot and unwelcome.
She hadn't seen the shard of metal until it was too late—buried under the debris Damien had rigged to fall the moment they stepped inside 17B. She stumbled, gripping the wound with one hand, her breathing ragged as Marcus rushed to her side.
"Shit—Ava!"
"I'm fine," she lied, voice hoarse.
Marcus dropped beside her, eyes wide with fear and fury. "No, you're not." He tore open the side of her shirt, fingers trembling as he assessed the gash. It wasn't deep enough to kill her—yet—but blood soaked her skin. "This was planned. He set this up knowing you'd be the one to step forward first."
"Then he knows me well."
Marcus pulled off his outer jacket and pressed it firmly against her side. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you're okay just to push forward. You're not alone in this, Ava."
She winced but didn't pull away. For a moment, her head rested against his shoulder.
Outside, dawn began to spill light across the city. But here, in the dark underbelly of Damien's trap, they were bleeding in more ways than one.
"He's always a step ahead," she murmured. "He knew we'd find the Polaroid. He wanted to drag us here."
"And now he's dragging Nathan further," Marcus said grimly, standing with her cradled in his arms.
She blinked up at him. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do."
He carried her out of the building like she weighed nothing, placing her gently into the passenger seat of the car. As he pulled the seatbelt across her, his eyes locked with hers.
"I thought I could handle this case like all the others. But I can't. Not when it's you."
She tried to smile, but pain overtook her. "Don't fall in love with a ghost, Marcus."
"You're not a ghost. You're the only real thing I've got."
---
They made it to the precinct, where Ava received quick medical attention in the infirmary. The doctor on duty stitched her up, but she refused to be sidelined.
"I'm not staying on a cot while Nathan's out there," she insisted.
Marcus was at her side the entire time. Watching. Guarding. Holding her hand during every needle prick and whispered pain.
"You always push yourself past your limits," he said quietly.
"It's how I've survived."
He nodded. "Well, now you have someone to survive with."
She met his eyes. The warmth there, raw and exposed, stole her breath more than the wound ever could.
Their moment was interrupted by the captain barging in, holding a tablet. "We've got something. Another transmission. From Damien."
Marcus stood, tense. Ava sat up straighter despite the pain. "Play it."
The screen flickered to life with a video—grainy, black-and-white.
Nathan, bound again, sat in a chair. This time, the fear in his eyes was pure. Not a trick. Not staged.
Damien's voice came over the feed like static. "I warned you, Ava. You've been following the wrong clues. Let me help. Let's play another game."
A map flickered onto the screen.
Then the feed cut out.
"Freeze that," Marcus said, stepping forward. "Enhance the image."
Ava pointed. "That building… I know it. It's the old power plant near the river."
"It's been shut down for years," Marcus muttered. "Perfect place to hide someone."
The captain frowned. "You're both in no shape to—"
"We're going," Ava said firmly.
Marcus didn't argue. He only took her hand.
---
They reached the power plant just after noon. Clouds rolled over the sky, thick with the promise of rain.
The building loomed like a corpse—gray, metallic, lifeless.
Marcus pulled out his gun, placing a hand on Ava's arm. "You stay behind me."
"I'm not fragile."
He looked back at her. "No. You're strong. That's why it terrifies me when you bleed."
She gave him a brief nod, and they entered together.
Inside, silence stretched.
Then—a noise. Footsteps. Fast.
Marcus grabbed Ava, pulling her into a hidden corner just as a figure ran past.
Not Damien. One of his plants. A runner.
Marcus cursed. "They're moving him again."
Ava spotted something on the ground—a dropped scrap of paper.
She picked it up.
Coordinates.
"Another clue," she said. "He's dragging us in circles."
"No. He's testing us."
She met Marcus's eyes. "Why?"
"Because he wants to know how far I'll go for you."
That silenced her.
---
They followed the coordinates to a remote riverside building—an old theatre, abandoned after a fire decades ago.
Inside, the stage was warped, burned black. Rows of ruined seats sat like ghosts.
In the center, something flickered.
Another photo.
Marcus approached first, gun ready. He picked it up.
Nathan again. This time, a bruised cheek. Blood near his temple.
On the back of the photo: "Tick-tock. The curtain falls soon."
Ava clenched her fists. "He's escalating."
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
Blocked number.
She answered, speaker on.
Damien's voice slithered through. "You're slipping, Ava. You think love makes you stronger. But it only makes you predictable."
"Where is he?" she snapped.
"You still don't understand. Nathan isn't the endgame. You are."
The line went dead.
She stood frozen.
Marcus gently touched her shoulder. "You okay?"
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"Good. Means you're still human."
She looked at him, searching. "What if we don't get to Nathan in time?"
"Then we don't stop until we do. I won't let Damien win."
His hand slipped into hers.
In the burnt shadows of a forgotten theatre, they stood side by side—partners, warriors, something more. Their pain didn't divide them.
It bonded them.
---
That night, back at the precinct, Ava sat alone in the war room, tracing every thread of the map before her.
Marcus entered quietly. "You should rest."
She didn't look up. "Can't."
He approached slowly, then dropped beside her. "You're bleeding again."
She glanced at the spot of red seeping through her bandage. "It's minor."
He took her hand, and without a word, gently pressed a new cloth to the wound. Their faces were close now. Breaths intertwined.
"I hate that he hurt you," Marcus said.
"He wants us afraid."
"I'm not afraid of Damien," he said. "I'm afraid of losing you."
Her heart stuttered. "Then don't."
His hand slid up, cupping her cheek. "I meant what I said, Ava. This isn't just about the case. It hasn't been for a long time."
Her eyes shimmered, raw and vulnerable. "I know."
"I'm falling for you," he whispered.
She leaned in. "Then fall."
Their lips met—slow, cautious, reverent. Not the kind of kiss born from adrenaline. But from the quiet ache of longing. A tether.
When they parted, Marcus rested his forehead against hers.
"We're going to bring him home," she whispered.
"And then?"
"And then we figure out what we are."
He smiled softly. "I already know."
But before they could speak further, the monitor on the table lit up again.
Another video.
Nathan.
This time, unconscious.
Damien's voice: "One last move. One last choice. Let's see what you're willing to sacrifice."
Ava gripped Marcus's hand tighter.
The storm wasn't over.
It was only just beginning.
---