EXECUTIONER. the boys

chapter two. nightmares

chapter two ── nightmares.
"I'm just so fucking tired of playing."

She was running.

The Abyss stretched before her, a twisted maze of neon lights and distorted faces. The laughter echoed, growing louder with each step, taunting her, chasing her deeper into the shadows. Her chest tightened, her lungs burning, but no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't escape the creeping darkness that swallowed everything in its path. The walls drew in closer, beginning to drip thick, red blood, oozing down, slow and deliberate, like a predator savouring its prey. The farther she ran, the closer the walls closed, suffocating her.

She couldn't escape feeling him—watching her. His eyes. Cold and merciless. She didn't have to turn around to know who they belonged to. She could feel his presence all over her skin, just like it had been before. The shadows whispered his name, a guttural growl in the back of her mind.

Her stomach turned, acid rising to her throat. The memories lurched forward, crashing into her like a wave. She was back there. In that room, hands reaching out for her—wet hands, fingers slipping, grasping at her skin with an unrelenting desperation. The metallic scent of salt water clung to the air, and the sting of his touch burned through her like salt in an open wound. His voice, low and slippery, murmured promises and threats at once.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath hitched, but her legs wouldn't stop moving. She couldn't stop. Keep running.

But her feet were sinking now, the ground beneath her dissolving into thick, black tar that clung to her skin, dragging her down. Each step pulled her deeper into the suffocating muck, a weight pressing against her chest, as if something was crawling beneath the surface, reaching for her. She thrashed, her arms flailing wildly, desperate for any hold, but the darkness kept closing in. The walls around her oozed blood, slow and deliberate, while the faces twisted into grotesque masks of ecstasy—faces that seemed to smile and leer, their mouths dripping with water, their eyes glittering with expectation.

Laughter echoed, growing louder, sharper, until it was deafening, rattling her skull. The sound became a low gurgle, like a man drowning. Her breath quickened, her mind spinning with the rising panic. And those cold, merciless eyes—they were closer now, piercing her soul as if they could see right through her. She felt them, locked onto her back, the chill of his gaze crawling under her skin like a shadow that would never let go.

The air shifted around her. It was thick with the smell of saltwater and something else, something suffocating—sickly sweet and acrid, like wet leather and rot. The floor beneath her feet was slick now, water creeping around her ankles. The walls felt damp, as though the whole place were submerged, the weight of it pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

Suddenly, the tar was gone, replaced by a sensation like slime, coating her legs, sliding up her thighs, sticky and wet. His breath was too close now, and she didn't have to look back to know what he was doing. A cold hand slipped around her wrist, a grip strong, pulling her backward, dragging her closer.

Her legs buckled beneath her as her feet skidded on the slick floor, her chest tightening with the suffocating pressure of his proximity. Her heart pounded erratically, the rush of panic filling her ears, drowning out the laughter, drowning out everything.

She screamed, her lungs burning, but no sound came out. The walls closed in further, and she felt his breath hot against her neck, a grim promise that she couldn't outrun, couldn't escape.

Wake up.

Eve's fist shot out before her brain could even catch up, her body reacting instinctively, lashing out at something—someone. Her knuckles met with Axel's stomach, a startled grunt escaping him as he steadied himself. His hands closed around her wrists, not harsh but unyielding, anchoring her as she thrashed, her breathing shallow and frantic.