The evening sky stretched over the city like a worn sheet of copper-gray cloth, as if trying to conceal the wounds of a long, scorching day.
Heavy clouds hung low, swallowing the last rays of sunlight between rows of rigid concrete buildings.
The air was thick, carrying the lingering scent of hot asphalt mixed with burnt metal, making every breath feel heavy and suffocating.
On the outskirts of the city stood an old warehouse, still used for storing light industrial goods.
That afternoon, however, activity had ceased earlier than usual.
Only two security guards remained at the front post, sitting casually with plastic cups of coffee in hand.
An old radio beside them hissed faintly, its news barely audible.
“Looks like it’s going to rain,” said the older guard, stretching and yawning.
“The sky looks like rusted iron.”
Rendy, the younger guard, stared toward the empty yard.
“Yeah… but do you hear that?” he asked suddenly, his brows furrowing.
A faint sound drifted through the air.
A scream.
Both men exchanged glances.
Rendy stood abruptly, straining his ears.
The sound came again—clearer this time.
“Help! Help me!”
Without hesitation, Rendy dashed out of the post, sprinting across the gravel path toward the east side of the warehouse.
His partner followed closely behind, gripping a flashlight even though darkness had not fully settled.
About twenty meters ahead, near a half-collapsed wire fence, they saw it—a young woman struggling desperately against a tall man in a black jacket.
The man’s face was partially covered by a mask, his eyes wild and menacing.
One hand gripped the woman’s arm tightly while the other tried to snatch her bag.
“Hey! Let her go!” Rendy shouted as he charged forward.
The man turned sharply.
For a split second, his gaze locked with Rendy’s—cold, panicked, dangerous.
Then, without hesitation, he shoved Melanie violently to the ground and bolted toward a motorcycle parked beneath an acacia tree.
“Help! Heeelp!” Melanie screamed again, her voice breaking.
The engine roared to life, tearing through the silence as dust rose into the air.
Within seconds, the man disappeared down the empty road leading away from the warehouse.
Rendy rushed to Melanie’s side.
She was shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you alright, miss?” he asked urgently.
Melanie struggled to catch her breath.
Her hair was disheveled, her face smeared with dust.
“Th… that man… he tried to kidnap me… he said—” Her voice faltered, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Calm down,” the other guard said gently.
“You’re safe now. Come inside. Have some water.”
Melanie nodded weakly as they helped her into the guard post.
Outside, streetlights flickered on one by one, casting dim yellow reflections across damp ground.
The world seemed calm again—but beneath that calm, something had begun to stir.
And the news of what had just happened spread faster than anyone expected.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Christine paced anxiously inside the grand living room of John Terano’s mansion.
The house was silent, yet the tension in the air was suffocating.
The ticking of the wall clock echoed unnaturally loud, like a countdown to disaster.
She glanced repeatedly toward the window, waiting.
In the adjacent room, Celestine sat pale and restless, clutching the house phone with trembling hands.
“Peter still hasn’t regained consciousness,” she said, her voice strained.
“Christine, do you hear me? He’s still not awake. The doctor says he needs time… but time could mean everything!”
Christine said nothing.
She stared at the floor, struggling to contain the storm within her—fear, guilt, anger.
Peter, who once pretended to be sick, was now truly lying unconscious.
And the plan meant to fix everything had completely failed.
Then—
The sound of a car engine.
Christine rushed outside without hesitation.
Through the glass, she saw the headlights flicker off.
Moments later, the car door opened.
Braddy stepped out, his face exhausted, his movements heavy.
“Where is she?” Christine demanded immediately.
Braddy exhaled deeply.
“She escaped.”
Christine froze.
“What…?”
Without another word, Braddy walked past her into the house.
“Braddy! You’re not joking, are you!?” Christine followed, her voice trembling.
Jackson stepped out of the car, dust still clinging to his clothes.
“She escaped through the back wall before we arrived. Looks like someone helped her.”
Christine’s chest tightened.
That meant one thing—total failure.
Footsteps echoed sharply.
Celestine appeared at the doorway, her face pale, her eyes burning.
“What did you say?” she demanded.
“Repeat it.”
Braddy lowered his head.
“She escaped, Mom.”
Silence fell.
Then—
Crash!
A flower vase shattered violently against the floor.
Christine flinched, but Celestine didn’t stop.
Her breathing grew heavy, her entire body trembling with rage.
“You fools!” she shouted.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve done to make sure she was brought here safely? I paid people! I prepared everything—even risked the law for that girl! And you let her escape!?”
Jackson tried to speak.
“We searched, but—”
“Shut up!” Celestine snapped.
Christine stepped back slowly, her heart sinking.
When Celestine was like this, no one could stop her.
“I want to know,” Celestine continued coldly, “who helped her. Who dares to oppose me.”
Braddy clenched his fists.
Something inside him boiled—anger, disgust, exhaustion.
“I’ll find her again tomorrow,” he said quietly.
“No!” Celestine pointed at him sharply.
“You’re not going anywhere until I say so. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing, Braddy? Do you think I’m blind?”
Braddy’s restraint snapped.
“I’m done with this,” he said firmly.
“You’ve gone too far. This isn’t a family anymore—we’re just people using each other.”
The room froze.
Celestine stared at him, stunned.
“Get out of my sight,” she said coldly.
Without another word, Braddy turned and walked upstairs.
His steps were heavy—but resolute.
Christine lowered her head as his bedroom door slammed shut.
Celestine slowly sank onto the sofa, her face drained of color.
But behind her empty gaze, something dark began to grow.
“If that girl dares to challenge me…” she whispered, “…I’ll make sure she regrets it.”
Elsewhere, under flickering lights near the warehouse, Melanie sat on a plastic chair, still trembling.
One of the guards handed her a drink.
“It’s okay, miss. The police will be here soon,” he said gently.
Melanie nodded, but her thoughts were far away.
That man… he wasn’t ordinary.
There was something calculated in his movements—something trained.
She tightened her grip on the bracelet around her wrist—Flora’s bracelet.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
“Flora… they’re definitely looking for you too,” she whispered.
The night deepened, swallowing the city in silence.
And somewhere, hidden behind the darkness—
someone was watching.
“The game has just begun.”