𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡✦𝐑𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐋𝐮 𝐒𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠

Chapter 24: Keep Breathing

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My own death doesn't
frighten me; but yours?
Oh, that's my greatest,
deepest fear.

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________________________

Rachel.
I pushed myself upright, the sterile air around me doing little to soothe the tension coiling in my chest. My heart raced as I scanned the dimly lit room, the remnants of chaos still lingering in the corners. I had to find her. Wait, how did I end up here? Wasn't I looking for her?
The door creaked open, revealing a shadowy figure that momentarily stole my breath. But it was just a nurse, her eyes wide with surprise at my sudden movement.
"Easy there, you took quite a hit," she said gently, moving to steady me.
"Where's Rachel? How did I get here?" I demanded, urgency spilling from my voice.
"Who?"
"Rachel Wang," I insisted, my mind racing. "She was here. I need to find her."
The nurse hesitated, her brow furrowing. "I'm not sure. The locals found you passed out near a construction site. You should stay here—"
"I'm fine. I need to go." I brushed her off and staggered toward the door, the sterile smell of antiseptic and fear clinging to me like a second skin.
I pushed past her, heading into the dim hallway. My body felt heavy, but I couldn't let that stop me. Rachel was out there, and I had to find her.
As I stepped outside, the night air hit me like a wave, sharp and refreshing. I breathed in deeply, scanning the streets for any sign of her. The shadows danced around me, twisting and turning as the world felt both familiar and foreign.
I made my way down the street, the memories of the attack flashing through my mind like a film reel. My heart sank as I recalled how she had looked, fear etched in her features. What if she was hurt? What if they got to her?
I moved faster, the urgency driving me forward. "Rachel!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the stillness. The café. That's where it all went down. Her name slipped past my lips, desperate, like a spell I couldn't stop chanting. Oh god. Where is she? My eyes darted around, scanning every inch of the place, every dark corner near the café, but it was like the night had swallowed her whole. Gone. Not a damn trace.
A sharp pain tore through me, sudden and relentless, making me stumble. My body was giving up, but I couldn't. No, no, no. She can't be the reason I carry this guilt for the rest of my life. What the hell am I supposed to tell her family? I sank to my knees, collapsing against the cold metal of an electric pole. The dim street lamp above me flickered weakly, casting a dying glow on the empty road. Where the hell could she be?
Cipher. That bastard. I should've known. I knew he couldn't be trusted.
Frustration clawed at my insides, and I gripped a fistful of my hair, yanking at it as if I could shake a memory loose, something, anything—that could lead me to Rachel. But my mind was a blur, tangled in guilt, panic, and the growing fear that I might be too late.
One thing is certain: Rachel either has something they want or she knows something they don't. As the last thread of hope frays inside me, I push myself up from the cold metal pole, legs shaky beneath me, but I have to get home. My heart, though—yeah, it's not on my side tonight, hammering with this dread that won't quit. But I need to move. Rachel, wherever you are, just keep breathing.
Step after hesitant step, I make it back, half an hour later, my body running on fumes. My legs are jelly, but my fingers are relentless, jabbing the doorbell until it finally swings open. There she is—Mom. Her eyes widen, but I don't give her a chance to speak before I crash into her. She holds me, a fortress against the storm I'm trapped in. And for the first time, her silent strength cracks, tears slipping down her face.
"Lu Si Cheng...what happened? What is all this?" Her voice is ragged, but I can't give her an answer. My throat's thick, voice buried under the weight of everything. She helps me to my room, and the second I hit the bed, I'm done—I crumble, every ounce of strength gone.
"Cheng, I'm asking you something." Her voice is steady, but I can feel the worry simmering underneath it like she's trying to keep her heart from breaking.
"Some thugs caught me." The words slip out like they've been waiting to fall, barely a whisper. I don't have to look to know what's in her eyes—the flicker of fear, the one that burns a little too bright for her to hide. I know it's there, I can feel it in the space between us. She doesn't say anything for a moment, just stands there, still holding me, her fingers gripping my arm a little tighter. I can hear her breath hitch like she's bracing herself for something worse. Like she's waiting for the rest of the story to come crashing down because four words aren't enough to explain why her son looks like he's just crawled out of hell. "They wanted information," I finally forced out, the words like gravel in my throat. "Something about Rachel. They're looking for her."
Mom's breath hisses through her teeth, and I can feel her body tense against mine. Her silence is louder than anything right now. She knows, just like I do, that this isn't over. Not even close.
"They hurt you?" she finally asks, voice soft but with that edge to it, the one that tells me she's holding it together for my sake. I swallow, nodding, though it feels like admitting defeat. "A little. But I'm fine."
She doesn't believe me. I don't even believe me.
"You're not fine," she says, her voice cracking just a bit, like she's struggling to keep herself together. She brushes the hair off my forehead, the gesture so gentle, so unlike the storm that's brewing between us. "We need to figure out what they want, Cheng. This... this won't just go away."
I nod, but deep down, I know. She's right. They're after something bigger. And Rachel's in the middle of it. Mom pulls away, her arms lingering for a second longer like she doesn't want to let go. Then, with a deep breath, she stands up, her footsteps soft as she moves toward the cabinet. The air between us feels heavier than it should, thick with unspoken things, questions she's not sure she wants answers to. She rummages around, pulling out the first-aid kit like she's done this before—like I've come home broken one too many times. And maybe I have. But tonight feels different. She knows it too.
"Take off your shirt," she says, her voice steady now, like she's focusing on the one thing she can control. I do as she asks, the fabric sticking to my skin, pulling at where they hit me. Her breath hitches again, barely audible, but I catch it. I always do. Her hands move with the kind of care that's more painful than the wounds themselves. Each touch is careful, and deliberate, like she's trying to erase the damage but knows she can't. The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating, until she finally speaks again.
"And Rachel? What happened to her?" Her voice is softer this time, but I can feel the weight of the question. It presses down on me like a stone, cold and unforgiving.
I try to form words, but they get stuck in my throat. There's no way to explain the mess we're in, no easy way to say, I don't know. Because that's the truth. I don't know where she is. I don't know if she's safe. And that uncertainty—it's eating me alive.
"Cheng?" she prompts, her hand pausing mid-air, holding a blood-soaked piece of gauze. She's waiting. But I can't give her what she's asking for.