Unbind me

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Seraphina Sterling
"my life was never about living, it was always about surviving"

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Kenji led me through the ruins of what must've once been a parking garage, his grip firm as he guided me deeper into the darkness. The place was massive, stretching out in endless rows of rusted cars and cracked concrete pillars. The air was thick with dust, the scent of mildew and old fuel clinging to the space like a memory that refused to fade.

"This way," Kenji whispered, pulling me toward a narrow fire exit. The metal door was scratched up and rusted at the edges, but it still stood, barely hanging onto its hinges.

I glanced back over my shoulder, scanning the empty garage. The shadows made it impossible to tell if we were alone. I could still feel the hum of the frequencies around me, the ever-present static of unseen surveillance, but it wasn't as strong here.

Kenji banged his fist against the door, three sharp knocks, then two softer ones.

Nothing.

I shifted uneasily.

He knocked again, harder this time, muttering under his breath. "Come on, man."

The seconds stretched.

Kenji's pounding was growing weaker. Each hit against the door was slower, less forceful. His breath had turned ragged, his body swaying.

A cough. A low, guttural sound of pain.

One more fist flailing into the door. A slump. Another moan. Then the sickening thud of his body crashing against the metal.

My chest tightened.

"Kenji?" I whispered, but he barely reacted. He was losing too much strength. Too much blood.

His voice came out hoarse, barely above a breath. "Adam—" He coughed, tried again. "Please, man, if you're in there—"

I clenched my fists, shifting my weight anxiously. He was getting worse. We had been running too long, hiding too long, and now he was barely holding himself up. I reached out, pressing a hand against his back to keep him steady, but he was ice-cold beneath my fingers.

A metallic click.

The sound of a latch turning.

I stiffened. Kenji barely lifted his head.

The door inched open. I could make out the shadow of a figure inside, a gun raised and steady, the barrel gleaming in the dim light.

"Kenji?" Adam's voice was sharp, clipped with suspicion.

Kenji let out a weak, short wheeze. A groan. "Shit, man, what took you so long?"

Adam didn't answer. The door hadn't opened enough for me to see his face, but I could feel the tension rolling off him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was colder now, harsher. "Who sent you here? Who are you with?"

My breath hitched.

I wasn't sure if he even knew I was out here. If he would even care.

Kenji coughed, struggling to catch his breath. I could feel him shaking now, his body barely able to keep upright.

We didn't have time for this.

"Adam," I said, my voice low but firm.

Silence.