Beyond The Edge of Instincts

Chapter 3: Escape into the Night

Luna struggled to keep her balance as Max dragged her through the trees, pulling her through thick undergrowth. Her heart pounded with fear and confusion, and her legs wobbled beneath her, but she forced herself to keep moving. Thousands of questions swirled in her mind, but not a single one found an answer. Max didn't stop, even as his steps became heavier and his breath uneven.

"Max," she whispered, barely catching her breath. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

Max didn't respond. He kept moving forward, his jaw clenched tight, ignoring her attempts to talk. Luna noticed blood seeping from a wound on his side, leaving a crimson trail on the fallen leaves behind them.

"You're hurt. You need to stop," she pleaded, trying to slow down, but Max only tightened his grip on her hand.

"There's no time," he muttered through gritted teeth. His voice sounded like he was struggling to stay upright, every step taken with sheer force of will.

Luna pulled her hand free from his grasp and stopped in the middle of the forest path.

"Explain what's going on!" she demanded, fighting to keep fear from taking over. "Why did you attack Alex? Who are you, Max?"

Max stopped and looked at her, his darkened eyes heavy with exhaustion and pain. He was holding himself together by stubborn will and instinct.

"It's not that simple, Luna," he exhaled, bracing himself against the trunk of a tree to keep from collapsing. "If I hadn't come, he would've taken you. And you wouldn't have been able to escape."

"Taken me? Why?" Luna stared at him, her mind unwilling to accept the strange reality unfolding in front of her. "You're speaking in riddles! Just tell me the truth!"

Max closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Alex is dangerous. They're all dangerous. Their goal isn't just to be friends with you. They have their own plans, and you... you're part of those plans."

Max swayed, barely staying on his feet. Luna rushed toward him, but he quickly pulled away.

"I'm fine," he muttered, though the strain on his face made it clear that his strength was fading.

"Fine?!" Luna exclaimed. "You're losing too much blood! We have to stop, or... or you'll collapse right here!"

"No," Max straightened himself, his gaze hardening. "They'll come after us. If we stop, it's over for both of us."

Max grabbed her hand again and dragged her forward, though every step seemed to take an immense effort. He looked as if he was on the verge of collapsing, but some inner fire kept him going, refusing to let him give up.

He led Luna through narrow streets and deserted alleys, moving with the urgency of someone running out of time. Finally, they reached an unremarkable building—an old apartment complex that looked long forgotten, even by the locals.

Max glanced around, making sure no one had followed them, then quickly pushed Luna inside.

They climbed the creaky stairs to the third floor. Max fumbled with his keys, and within seconds, the door swung open. What Luna saw inside was nothing like she had expected.

The apartment was tiny but tastefully—and strangely, professionally—furnished. There were no personal belongings: just sleek, minimalist furniture, perfectly organized stacks of papers on the desk, and a gun cabinet cleverly disguised as a wardrobe. Maps and diagrams were pinned to cork boards on the walls. It felt more like the den of a secret agent than a living space.

"Welcome," Max rasped, barely managing to stay on his feet. He locked the door with two deadbolts and checked that the shutters were drawn.

Luna stood in silence, her mind struggling to process everything. It was clear now—Max had been preparing for something like this for a long time.