Bound by shadows: A Love Against All Odds (Bloodthirsty series)

16: The Edge of Trust

The words on the note echo in my mind as I quickly prepare for what's to come. "Midnight. The Asylum. Come alone." It's a simple instruction, but it holds a sinister promise. Lupé is either playing a dangerous game or leading me into one. Either way, I won't turn back.

I dress in black, my clothes blending with the shadows that will be my only allies tonight. The weight of my gun against my side is a comfort, but also a reminder of what's at stake. The city outside is silent, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions within me.

The asylum looms in the distance as I approach, its jagged silhouette cutting into the night sky. Abandoned for years, it stands as a decaying monument to madness—a place where the line between reality and nightmare blurs. The windows, shattered and dark, seem to watch me as I draw near, the air thick with the scent of rot and decay.

The gates are chained but rusted, barely holding together. I slip through with ease, the creaking metal groaning like a dying breath. Inside, the courtyard is overgrown with tangled weeds, the pavement cracked and uneven under my boots. The building itself seems to breathe, its broken walls whispering secrets long forgotten.

A chill runs down my spine as I step inside, the darkness swallowing me whole. The air is damp, heavy with the weight of despair that lingers in every corner. The floorboards creak beneath my feet, each step echoing through the empty halls. Flickering light from the moon barely filters through the grime-covered windows, casting eerie shadows that dance along the walls.

As I move deeper into the asylum, the silence becomes suffocating. Every creak, every whisper of wind through the broken windows, feels like the prelude to something terrible. The corridors twist and turn, leading me into the bowels of this forgotten place. I feel as if the building itself is alive, a predator waiting to strike.

Finally, I reach the center of the asylum—a large, open room that might have once been a common area. Now, it's a cavernous space, filled with overturned furniture and remnants of the past. The walls are covered in peeling paint, and the floor is littered with broken glass and debris. The air is colder here, as if the room holds onto the last remnants of the souls who once lived within these walls.

I pause, my breath visible in the frigid air. The note crinkles in my fist, the words a stark reminder of why I'm here. But there's something else—an unsettling feeling that crawls up my spine. I'm not alone.

A shadow shifts at the far end of the room, and my heart skips a beat. Lupé steps forward, his face partially hidden by the darkness, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. He's calm, too calm, as if he's been expecting this moment all along.

"You're punctual," he says, his voice low, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

I don't respond, my hand hovering near my gun. Every instinct screams at me to be ready, to strike first, but I know better than to rush. This is a game of wits, and Lupé is a master.

"So," he continues, taking another step forward, "did you come here to negotiate, or are you just eager to get this over with?"

The way he says it, as if he holds all the cards, makes my blood boil. But I keep my cool, my expression betraying nothing. "That depends," I say, my voice steady. "On how much you value your life."

A grin spreads across his face, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, Alora, you should know by now. Life and death—they're just two sides of the same coin."

His words hang in the air, thick with meaning. But before I can respond, there's a sudden noise—a distant, echoing thud from somewhere deep within the asylum. The sound reverberates through the walls, making the entire building seem to shudder.