Tera emerged from the forest, her clothes torn and covered in dirt, twigs tangled in her hair. The safety of her car loomed ahead, a fragile barrier between her and the horrors she had just witnessed. Her body trembled, a mixture of exhaustion and fear, as she stood still for a moment, catching her breath. The weight of what was happening to Eric, Isaiah, and Clarke gnawed at her insides, making her feel helpless yet driven.
She hesitated, her hand resting on the car door. A war raged in her mind. Should she go back and tell the others, or continue this alone? Every second felt like a countdown to something far worse. With a shaky breath, she made her choice. This wasn't about running for help. This was about getting them out alive. And she wasn't about to let anyone else die.
She slipped into the car and sped off, back to the temporary safehouse. The air in the car was thick with tension, her grip on the steering wheel tight, her knuckles white. Every shadow outside the window felt like it could be hiding something sinister.
When she finally reached the safehouse, Tera pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and composed a message to Eric, every word weighted with urgency.
"Eric, I've found the place. It's an old house in the forest. I'll be back soon with a plan to get you out. Stay quiet and stay put. I'll explain everything once I get there."
She sent the message, her stomach twisting with anxiety. The silence that followed was suffocating as she paced back and forth, biting her lip, waiting for any sign that Eric had seen it.
In the basement, Eric felt his phone vibrate weakly in his pocket. His hands were still taped, but with great difficulty, he maneuvered the phone out. His heart pounded as he read Tera's message, hope flickering back to life in his chest. He showed it to Isaiah, whose face mirrored the same fragile hope.
"Tera's found our exact location. She's coming back with a plan. We need to be ready."
Isaiah nodded, his expression a mix of hope and worry. "Let's stay calm and keep the plan in mind. We need to make sure we're not caught off guard."
Before they could discuss further, Officer Clarke, who had been sitting in the shadows, spoke up, his voice low and gravelly. "I'm not waiting around. I broke out of the tape. I've got a way to get us out of here." Clarke said, his voice barely a whisper. He handed Eric a small shard of glass. "Use this to cut yourselves free, but don't move yet. I'm going to make my move."
Eric's eyes widened in alarm. "Clarke, wait! We need to think this through-"
But Clarke cut him off, his voice tinged with urgency. "There's no time. We either act now or we die in this godforsaken place."
Before either of them could protest, Clarke sprang to his feet and bolted for the basement door. Eric and Isaiah shared a desperate glance before they fumbled to grab the glass shard Clarke had left behind. Their hearts raced as they began to saw at the tape around their wrists, panic mounting with every sound of the fight upstairs.
Upstairs, Clarke burst through the door, catching one of the killers off guard. He tackled the man to the ground with brutal force, sending both of them crashing into the wall. The sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the house as Clarke's fists hammered into the killer's face, blood splattering across the floor.
"You think you can keep us here, you sick bastards?" Clarke growled, his voice dripping with fury. He managed to pin the man down, but the victory was short-lived. The second killer appeared from behind, grabbing a metal pipe and swinging it with brutal precision into Clarke's side.
Clarke grunted in pain, his body crumpling slightly, but he wasn't finished yet. He lunged again, fists flying, but the two killers quickly overpowered him, their rage turning the fight into a savage brawl.
"Thought you were a hero, huh?" one of the killers sneered as they slammed Clarke's head into the floor. "We'll show you what happens to heroes."
In the basement, Eric and Isaiah sawed frantically at their tape, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they struggled to free themselves. They could hear every sickening thud, every groan of pain as Clarke fought for his life above them. The tension in the room was suffocating.
Eric gritted his teeth, the shard slipping in his trembling hands. "Come on... come on..." he muttered, his heart pounding as the tape began to loosen.
Isaiah was close to breaking free as well, his eyes wild with urgency. "Hurry, Eric, we have to help him!"
Just as Eric felt the last of the tape give way, they heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs. The killers were dragging Clarke back to the basement, their laughter cold and filled with malice.
Both Eric and Isaiah froze, their hearts sinking as they realized they were too late. Clarke's battered form appeared in the doorway, bloodied and beaten, the killers hauling him like a ragdoll. Eric's hands trembled as he hid the shard beneath his palm, the bitter taste of failure choking him.
The killers threw Clarke to the ground, his body crumpling with a groan of pain. One of them pulled out a phone and began recording, their grins twisted with sadistic glee.
"Say goodbye, Officer Clarke," one of them jeered, circling Clarke like a predator. "We're about to make this real interesting."
Clarke, his breath ragged, looked up at Eric and Isaiah. His eyes, though filled with pain, held a flicker of regret. "I'm... sorry," he rasped. "For everything. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Clarke, no..." Eric's voice cracked, desperation clawing at his throat. "Don't do this... please..."
The killers laughed, taunting them with every cruel word. "You think you're getting out of here? You're next, Isaiah. Then we'll finish off your friend here."
They pulled out a gasoline canister, the foul smell filling the basement. Clarke's eyes widened as they doused him in the flammable liquid, the cold liquid soaking his clothes. The killers' mocking voices were a nightmare made real.
"Let's see how long you last," one of them sneered, striking a match. The flame flickered ominously in the dim light, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.
"Any last words, Clarke?" the other killer taunted, holding the match aloft.
Clarke glared at them, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Go to hell."
The match dropped.
The fire erupted in a burst of flames, engulfing Clarke in seconds. His screams were blood-curdling, the sound of pure agony that made Eric and Isaiah's hearts break. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, the heat unbearable as the flames roared higher.
Eric and Isaiah screamed, thrashing against the tape, their desperation fueling their efforts. Eric's wrist was nearly free, the shard digging into the remaining strands of tape, but it was too late. Clarke was already burning, his body writhing in agony as the killers watched, their laughter echoing in the suffocating heat.
"Burn, baby, burn," one of them mocked, his grin wide and cruel.
Eric and Isaiah's screams filled the basement as Clarke's body finally stilled, the fire consuming everything. The killers watched with sick enjoyment, their twisted game nearing its end.
Outside, Tera moved with the stealth of a shadow. Every step was calculated, every breath controlled. She knew time was running out, and the urgency gnawed at her. Her heart ached, but her mind remained focused. When her phone buzzed again, she read Eric's message, her heart sinking at the grim news: "They killed Clarke. Burned him alive. We need you now more than ever. Stay hidden."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and steeled her nerves. The forest was thick and dark, but she maneuvered through it with precision, avoiding any sound that might give her away. Her footsteps were light, almost imperceptible as she approached the house.
The killers didn't know she was coming, and by the time she was ready, they wouldn't know what hit them.
