Desire Overdose | 18+

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓

ANYA

"Shh," I whispered, my hand clutching Amara's in a bid to steady us both. Fear hung thick in the air, coiling tighter with every hurried step we took. Our footfalls echoed ominously in the silence, as though the walls themselves were conspiring to betray us.

"Stay close," I urged, my voice barely above a breath. Leading her through the endless labyrinth of corridors, each turn felt like a gamble, the shadows pressing in closer with every passing moment.

Doubt clawed at the edges of my mind, tugging relentlessly as I thought about the masked men we'd left behind. Could they have been genuine? Or had we just escaped one trap for another? The uncertainty gnawed at me like a persistent ache, but I shoved it aside. There was no room for hesitation.

Right now, it was just Amara and me against the world, and we had no choice but to rely solely on each other. No one else was coming to save us.

The passages seemed to stretch endlessly, dimly lit and suffocating, as though the walls were closing in. My mind raced, tangled in the overwhelming scale of the place and the unshakable fear of being caught.

At the end of the corridor, faint voices reached my ears, distant at first but growing clearer with every second. My breath caught, instincts flaring as I recognized the dangerous tone. Without hesitation, I grabbed Amara's hand and tugged her into a nearby room, easing the door shut behind us as quietly as I could.

"Stay still," I mouthed, pressing my back against the door and focusing on the muffled conversation outside.

The voice was unmistakable—Viktor. His words were sharp, brittle with fury, and laced with threats. My stomach twisted at the venom in his tone.

"Find them!" he roared, the sound reverberating like a blow. "And bring me the bastards who dared to touch my men!"

The thunder of boots followed as his men scattered, their chaotic movements a grim orchestra of violence waiting to unfold.

Amara let out a soft sob, her trembling hand clutching mine. I turned to her, raising a finger to my lips.

"Not a sound," I whispered, barely audible over the frantic pounding of my heart.

The door rattled faintly against my back as I strained to hear any sign of lingering threats. Silence stretched between us, broken only by Amara's shaky breaths.

Finally, she spoke, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. "Maybe we should've stayed with those masked men. They—"

"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. I softened my tone, meeting her tear-filled eyes with unwavering conviction. "We don't know who they are or what they want. Trusting them could've been an even bigger mistake."

Her tears spilled freely now, streaking her pale cheeks as she bit her lip to keep from breaking down completely. I stepped closer, placing my hands gently on her shoulders.

"We'll get through this," I said softly, forcing the words past the knot in my throat.

The truth was, I didn't know how—or if—we'd make it. But for her, I had to believe it. For both of us.

The minutes seemed to stretch on forever, each second heavier than the last. I could feel the weight of time pressing down on me as we waited, trapped in our silence.

Finally, with a deep breath, I dared to check the hallway. It was clear. I motioned to Amara, urging her to follow me, and we slipped out, our movements cautious, shadows blending with the walls.

As we neared the end of the corridor, I hesitated, eyes scanning every corner for any sign of movement. The coast seemed clear, and we moved forward, relief trickling into my veins like a fragile hope.