The Pale Lily

Dead Man's Switch

Elara’s heart raced as she tucked her phone back into her pocket, her mind still reeling from Lysandra’s cryptic call. The night air felt heavier now, as if the darkness itself was pressing down on her. She needed to focus. Jeffrey Aldor was the key to this nightmare, and time was running out.

But just as she took a step forward, her phone buzzed again. Elara hesitated, then picked up. It was the same unknown number. Lysandra.

“For the record,” Lysandra's voice purred through the phone, “I’ve never heard of a detective chasing a confidential kidnapper on foot. How dull.”

Elara gripped the phone tightly. “What do you want, Lysandra?”

“Oh, Detective, you’re no fun,” Lysandra replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “So I thought I’d give you a gift. Something as pretty as you.”

Before Elara could respond, the screech of tires pulled her attention. A black sedan rolled to a stop right in front of her. The windows were tinted, but she could see the outline of a driver—a man, his face pale and drawn, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His eyes darted toward her with a mix of desperation and fear.

“Get in,” Lysandra’s voice commanded through the phone, now cold and direct. “He’ll take you where you need to go.”

Elara hesitated, scanning the car. The driver was clearly under duress, his knuckles white as he clung to the wheel. She knew she couldn’t trust this, but what choice did she have? Lysandra controlled every move in this twisted game, and if she refused, the consequences would be worse.

Taking a deep breath, Elara stepped toward the car. The door swung open with a slow creak, and she slid into the back seat, her eyes locked on the driver through the rearview mirror. His face was gaunt, his expression haunted. Something was deeply wrong, but Elara couldn't figure out what it was yet.

“Drive,” she muttered, feeling the tension thicken.

The car lurched forward, speeding down the dark streets as Elara tried to shake the creeping sense of dread. The city lights blurred past, her mind racing ahead to Aldor’s mansion. She had to get there—she had to confront him, find out what happened to Isabelle.

They were halfway through the empty streets when her phone buzzed again. It was Lysandra.

“You’re near now, Bella,” Lysandra’s voice purred through the line, a mocking sweetness in her tone. “But I don’t think you’ll reach him in time.”

Elara felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “What do you mean?” she demanded, her heart pounding.

Lysandra’s soft chuckle sent a chill through her. “I activated a little dead man’s switch on your driver. Gave him a few drops of poison before you got in. He’s only got two minutes left to live.”

Elara’s blood turned to ice. “What?!” Her eyes snapped to the driver, who still clung to the wheel with trembling hands.

“And here’s the fun part,” Lysandra continued, her voice dripping with sadistic glee. “The moment he lets go of that steering wheel, you’ll be the next s’more I roast.”

Elara’s pulse thundered in her ears. The driver’s breath was coming out in shallow gasps, his face drenched in sweat as the poison worked its way through his system.

She didn’t have much time.

“You’re insane,” Elara hissed, her mind racing as she scanned the road ahead.

Lysandra’s laugh echoed through the phone. “I told you, Detective, this is my game. Now, let’s see how well you play.”

Elara’s gaze darted between the driver and the road ahead. He was growing weaker by the second, his grip on the wheel faltering. The car swerved slightly, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before he collapsed. If he let go of that wheel, the car would crash—and Lysandra’s trap would spring, killing them both.

She had to act fast. Elara’s eyes darted to the door handle, calculating the speed of the car and the impact of jumping out. It was a risk—a deadly one—but staying in the car meant certain death.

The driver let out a strangled groan, his body convulsing slightly as the poison overtook him. His grip slackened, his hands slipping from the wheel for a brief second before he forced them back.

There was no time left.

Elara made her decision.

With a quick breath, she yanked the door open. The wind roared in her ears as the car hurtled down the dark road. She glanced at the driver one last time. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, filled with fear and regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible.

Elara braced herself, then threw her body out of the car, feeling the cold night air whip against her face. She hit the asphalt hard, rolling across the pavement as the world spun around her. Pain shot through her side, but she forced herself to keep rolling, her instincts taking over. The sound of the car screeching away echoed in the distance.

She lay still for a moment, gasping for breath as she stared up at the night sky. Her body ached from the fall, but she was alive.

Barely.

The car, now driverless, careened off the road and smashed into a concrete barrier with a sickening crash. Flames erupted from the engine, and within moments, the vehicle was engulfed in fire.

Elara lay there, bruised and shaken, but still alive. The reality of how close she had come to death washed over her like a cold wave.

Her phone buzzed again. She lifted it with a trembling hand, her body still aching from the fall.

Lysandra’s voice purred through the line. “Well done, Detective. You’re smarter than I thought. But don’t worry, Bella. We’re just getting started.”

Elara’s hand clenched into a fist. “You’re sick, Lysandra. I’m going to end this. You won’t win.”

Lysandra laughed softly, the sound sending a fresh wave of anger through Elara. “Oh, I’ve already won. Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

The line went dead.

Elara dragged herself to her feet, every part of her body screaming in protest. The burning wreck of the car cast an orange glow on the dark street, the scent of smoke filling the air.

She had survived, but Lysandra’s game was far from over.

With every painful step forward, Elara’s resolve grew stronger.

This wasn’t just about solving the case anymore.

It was personal.