Chapter 2

Crisha woke up with a jolt, her heart pounding in her chest. The deafening sound of gunfire echoed from outside, reverberating through the walls of the old mansion. Her room was plunged into darkness, the faint hum of electricity reduced to a chilling silence. Panic surged through her as she realized something was terribly wrong.

She threw off the heavy blankets and scrambled to her feet, her eyes desperately adjusting to the pitch-blackness. The air was thick with tension, and every sound seemed amplified—the distant shouts, the clattering of footsteps on the marble floors, and the ominous clicks of gunfire.

Crisha frantically searched the room, her hands brushing over the cold surface of the nightstand, the dresser, and the shelves, hoping to find a flashlight or anything that could help her see in the darkness. But there was nothing—no light, no weapon, no escape.

A sudden, muffled thud outside her door made her freeze in place. Her breath caught in her throat as the doorknob turned slowly, and the door creaked open. Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing the scream that threatened to escape.

"Shh," a familiar voice whispered urgently into her ear. "It's me."

Crisha's eyes widened as she recognized him, her fear momentarily giving way to confusion. Simon, the man who had always been calm and composed, was now standing in front of her, panting heavily. His dark hair was disheveled, and in his hand, he held a gun.

"What's happening?" Crisha whispered, her voice trembling.

"No time to explain," Simon replied, his voice low and tense. "We need to get out of here. They've breached the mansion, and they're after us."

"They? Who are they?" Crisha asked, her mind racing. She could hardly believe what was happening.

"Mercenaries, hitmen, whoever they are, they've come to kill us," Simon said, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting danger to burst in at any moment. "We have to move now, woman. Stay close to me, and don't make a sound."

Crisha nodded, her fear now mixed with a surge of adrenaline. She didn’t know if she could believe what Simon had said, but her life was now in his hands. She had to trust him. This was something different, something far more dangerous than anything they'd faced before.

Simon led her to the door, his movements quick and precise. He peeked out into the hallway, his gun raised, and after a moment, gestured for her to follow. They stepped out into the corridor, the mansion's once-grand interiors now shrouded in darkness and shadows. The only light came from the occasional flash of gunfire outside, illuminating the chaos that was unfolding.

They moved quietly, their footsteps barely audible on the thick carpet. Crisha's heart raced with every step, the fear of being caught making her hyper-aware of every sound, every movement. Simon led her down a narrow staircase, avoiding the main halls where the sound of fighting was the loudest.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they heard voices—low, menacing, and far too close for comfort. Simon stopped abruptly, pulling Crisha behind a large statue, his hand tightening around his gun.

"They're here," Simon whispered, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room.

Crisha held her breath, her body tensing as the voices grew louder. She could hear them now, the distinct click of guns being loaded, the harsh whispers of men intent on violence.

"They're coming this way," Crisha whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I know," Simon replied, his voice calm despite the danger. "Stay behind me."

The footsteps drew closer, and Crisha could see the shadows of the men approaching, their figures distorted by the flickering light. There were three of them, all armed, and all moving with the confidence of hunters closing in on their prey.

Simon waited until they were just a few feet away before he sprang into action. He stepped out from behind the statue, his gun raised, and fired a shot at the nearest man. The bullet struck him in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground with a grunt.

The other two men reacted quickly, raising their guns and firing back. Crisha ducked behind the statue, her heart hammering in her chest as the sound of gunfire filled the room. Simon moved with practiced precision, his body a blur as he dodged the bullets and returned fire. He took down the second man with a shot to the head, and the third with a quick, efficient burst to the chest.

The silence that followed was deafening. Crisha slowly stood up, her legs shaking. The bodies of the three men lay sprawled on the floor, their weapons still clutched in their hands.

"Are you okay?" Simon asked, his voice softening as he turned to her.

Crisha nodded, though she felt anything but okay. "You... you killed them," she whispered, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.

"I had to," Simon said, his expression grim. "It was them or us."

Crisha swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. She knew Simon was right, but the sight of the lifeless bodies, the smell of gunpowder and blood in the air, made her stomach churn.

"We need to keep moving," Simon said, his tone urgent once again. "There could be more of them."

They continued through the mansion, Simon leading the way with the same focused determination. Crisha followed close behind, her senses on high alert. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant shout, sent a spike of fear through her.

As they approached the back of the mansion, Simon suddenly stopped, his hand raised in a signal for Crisha to halt. He listened intently, his eyes narrowing.

"What is it?" Crisha whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I hear something," Simon replied, his voice tense. "There's someone ahead."

He moved forward cautiously, peering around the corner. Crisha could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, the grip on his gun tightening.

"There's a passageway here," Simon whispered, glancing back at Crisha. "It's our only chance to get out without being seen."

Crisha nodded, trusting Simon's judgment. They moved toward the passageway, a narrow door hidden behind a large tapestry. Simon pushed it open, revealing a dark, cramped tunnel.

"Go," Simon urged, his voice low but firm. "I'll cover you."

Crisha hesitated for a moment, the darkness of the tunnel seeming almost as terrifying as the danger they were fleeing from. But she knew there was no choice. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the passage, the cold walls pressing in on her from all sides.

Simon followed close behind, pulling the door shut behind them. The darkness was almost suffocating, the air thick with the smell of damp earth. Crisha could barely see a few feet ahead, her hands outstretched to feel her way forward.

"Stay close," Simon whispered, his voice a reassuring presence in the dark. "We're almost out."

They moved through the tunnel as quickly as they could, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the confined space. Crisha's mind raced, thoughts of what might be waiting for them on the other side mingling with the fear of what they had left behind.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the tunnel. Simon pushed open the door, revealing the outside world. The cold night air hit Crisha's face like a slap, a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the passage.

"Come on," Simon said, his voice urgent. "We need to move."

They emerged into the night, the sounds of gunfire still echoing from the mansion behind them. Crisha's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw a car parked a short distance away, its engine running.

Tristan, another trusted ally, was behind the wheel, his eyes scanning the surroundings. When he saw Simon and Crisha, he waved them over.

"Hurry!" Tristan called out, his voice tense with urgency.

Simon and Crisha ran toward the car, the fear of being caught driving them forward. They reached the car, and Simon opened the door, pushing Crisha inside before climbing in himself.

"Go!" Simon shouted as he slammed the door shut.

Tristan didn't need to be told twice. He hit the gas, the car lurching forward as they sped away from the mansion. Crisha glanced back, watching as the once-grand estate disappeared into the night, the glow of gunfire and the sound of violence growing fainter with each passing second.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked, glancing at Crisha through the rearview mirror.

Crisha nodded, though her hands were still shaking. "I think so," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You did well," Simon said, his voice gentle as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We're safe now."

Crisha nodded again, though the word safe felt fragile, almost fleeting. The reality of what they had just survived was still sinking in, and the thought of what might come next was daunting.

"Where do we go now?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Somewhere they won't find us," Simon replied, his tone firm. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

Crisha leaned back in her seat, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving her exhausted. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. The night had been a nightmare, but they had survived. And as long as they were alive, there was hope.

They sped through the night, leaving the danger behind. But Crisha knew that this was far from over. There were still questions that needed answers, and enemies that needed to be confronted. But for now, she was just grateful to be alive, with Simon and Tristan by her side.

And as they drove into the darkness, Crisha vowed that she would do whatever it takes to survive. No matter what lay ahead.