Under the Shadows

hi there, hope you guys r ok
love the title of this chapter hahaha
enjoyyy

**

The Reclaimer blinked at her, his face pale and glistening with sweat. For a moment, she thought he might argue, but instead, he gave her a faint nod. His breaths were shallow, his movements sluggish.

She ignored him, her hands already tearing through a cabinet to find something—anything—to slow the bleeding. A clean dish towel surfaced, and she grabbed it without hesitation. "Hold still," she ordered, pressing it against the wound in his side with enough force to make him hiss through his teeth.

"Christ, Detective," he muttered, leaning heavily against the radiator. "If you're trying to help, maybe don't kill me in the process."

"Stop talking," Elyne snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. Her hands worked quickly, tying the makeshift tourniquet around his torso, her movements rough but efficient. "I'm keeping you alive, so you're going to shut up and cooperate."

The Reclaimer gave her a lopsided grin, though it was tinged with pain. "Always so charming."

"Up," she said, ignoring him again as she looped an arm under his to help him to his feet. He groaned, his weight sagging against her as his legs trembled beneath him.

"You're going to have to carry me through this," he muttered, his breath ragged. "Hope you've been keeping up with your workouts."

Elyne shot him a glare but didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"What do we need?" she asked, her tone laced with urgency.

He nodded, refocusing, though his voice came out strained. "The essentials. Documents, weapons, and..." He paused, glancing toward the drawers. "The beeper. The black one in the drawer."

Elyne nodded sharply, her mind racing. She grabbed his backpack and started filling it under his terse instructions. The documents went in first, followed by the weapons. The beeper—the mysterious black device she didn't fully understand—slipped into an inner pocket, its weight solid and ominous. She worked quickly, her movements mechanical, her focus sharp.

As she turned back, her eyes caught a subtle movement—his hand slipping into one of the lower drawers. He pulled out the small stack of photographs she'd noticed earlier when she'd gone through his things, the blurred images of shadowy buildings and indistinct faces. He tucked them carefully into the side pocket of the bag, his movements deliberate but unspoken.

Elyne's brow furrowed, curiosity sparking as her gaze lingered on the drawer. The images had seemed out of place, almost too personal amidst the chaos of weapons and documents. But she didn't ask. Not now. Whatever they meant to him, they weren't hers to question—not yet, anyway.

"Anything else?" she asked, her voice brisk, trying to drown out the questions swirling in her mind.

"The surveillance tapes," the Reclaimer rasped, pointing toward the console. "We'll need those. Harlow's confession... it's all there."

Elyne hesitated for only a moment before she moved toward the console. She grabbed the tapes, stuffing them into the bag. Her pulse hammered in her ears, the weight of their situation pressing against her ribs.

"We're ready," she said, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she turned back to him. He nodded, his jaw tight, but as she stepped towards him, her gaze landed on the bookshelf.

The books.

Her chest tightened as her eyes scanned the rows of spines, their familiar shapes standing out against the chaos. His notes, his scrawled thoughts—they were raw, messy, infuriating, but they'd struck something in her. They'd mattered.