Mazes Of Red

CHAPTER 39 : Ticking Time Bomb

Lauren's POV

The day felt like it dragged on forever as my mind fixated on the silver pendant

. How had the Red Hood come into possession of something so personal? How could he have known about Jason? My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess until Bruce's name flashed across my phone screen.

 I answered quickly, forcing my voice to stay calm.

"Hey, Bruce."

"Lauren," Bruce's voice was steady, but there was a tension behind it. "Have you found any new information about the Red Hood?"

I hesitated, then said, "No, nothing new." I couldn't tell him about the pendant—not yet. I needed to confront Red Hood myself.

Bruce's pause was barely perceptible before he continued, "You don't need to worry about this anymore. It was wrong of me to involve you. I've got a lead on where he's going to strike next."

My heart pounded as I gripped the phone. "Where?"

"Upper side of Gotham's wharf, in an abandoned warehouse. He's targeting another one of Black Mask's shipments. It's going down tonight."

"Tonight?" I repeated, trying to mask the urgency in my voice.

"Yes. But Lauren, I don't want you involved. This isn't your fight. I'll handle it."

"Of course, Bruce," I replied, my voice steady. "Thanks for letting me know."

As soon as we hung up, adrenaline surged through me. This was my chance. Tonight, I would find the Red Hood, confront him, and demand answers. I prepared quickly, my thoughts laser-focused on the upcoming confrontation.

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Red Hood's POV

The night was cold as I crouched on the rooftop, my gaze fixed on the warehouse below. 

Black Mask's men were loading crates into unmarked vans. 

I knew this shipment was critical—Black Mask was moving something big, and I had to stop it.

But despite my best efforts, my mind kept drifting to Lauren. How could I explain who I really was? How could I reveal that the boy she once knew was still alive, hidden behind the mask of the Red Hood? The thought gnawed at me, a distraction I couldn't afford.

I forced myself to focus. The vans were almost loaded. 

It was time to move. But just as I prepared to strike, a shadow caught my eye—a figure moving stealthily through the darkness.

 I tensed, watching as they approached. The way they moved—calculated, precise—reminded me of someone trained, someone skilled.

I leapt down silently, confronting the figure before they could get any closer. 

They dodged my initial attack with a fluidity that surprised me, and we exchanged a flurry of blows. 

They were fast, but I was faster. 

As our fight intensified, I aimed a kick at their side, but they blocked it, countering with a swift punch that grazed my jaw.

This wasn't just some random thug. This person knew how to fight.

I pressed forward, determined to unmask this intruder. Finally, I managed to knock them off balance, pinning them to the ground. In one swift motion, I ripped off their mask.