Until We Remember

The elevator jolted violently before coming to an abrupt stop.

Silence.

A heavy stillness settled.

I pressed the emergency button, nothing. Not even a flicker of response. My fingers hovered over it for a second longer before I exhaled quietly and stepped back.

That's when I heard it.

A sharp flick of a lighter.

A small flame flared to life. I turned instantly and saw two men standing there.

I wasn't alone.

The taller one leaned lazily against the wall, twirling the lighter between his fingers. His presence was impossible to ignore, something about the way he carried himself, the slow, deliberate movements, the quiet confidence that belonged to men who were never afraid.

The other man, broader and more rigid, let out a sharp breath. "Fantastic," he muttered.

I kept my expression blank, pressing the button again. Still nothing.

The cigarette guy exhaled slowly,

"Bad luck, sweetheart."

His tone was amused.

I completely ignored him.

The ember at his lips flared as he took a slow drag. Then, the faintest hint of a smirk.

The other man scoffed, "How long do you think we'll be in here?"

Cigarette guy flicked ash to the floor, tilting his head slightly. He didn't answer right away, just looked at me.

Then, finally, he murmured, "Long enough."

A chill brushed my spine.

I pressed the button one more time, harder than before. My fingers barely trembled, but I knew he saw. The small, subtle details, those were the things men like him always noticed.

Behind me, his voice came again, quieter now. "You don't like being trapped, do you?"

I didn't turn. "Does anyone?"

Another pause. Another slow inhale of smoke.

"No," he said smoothly. "But most people don't react like this."

I turned this time, slowly, facing him fully. "Like what?"

"Like you know exactly who I am."

My breath remained even, controlled, but for a fraction of a second, just the smallest of moments, my heartbeat faltered.

And he noticed.

The smirk deepened.