Olivia stared at the flickering screen, the blood pounding in her ears drowning out Alexander's triumphant laughter. Seventeen-year-old her was captured mid-laugh, hugging a stray cat, but the figure circled in red at the edge of the frame was coming into sharp focus—Alexander, hooded and watching her with cold eyes. More chillingly, in the reflection on a nearby windowpane, she could make out the profile of another face: Ethan's.
"No... it can't be..." Olivia stumbled backward, crashing into a stack of cardboard boxes. Decades-old dust billowed up, triggering a fit of coughing. Ethan strained against his bindings, the rope digging deep into his wrists, drawing blood. "Olivia, listen to me! It's not what you think!" Panic laced his voice, a stark contrast to his usual composure.
Alexander clapped slowly, his polished leather shoes crunching over the debris on the warehouse floor. "Such a touching defense, Ethan. But some truths are like old wounds—they only hurt more when you rip off the bandage." He snapped his fingers, and the screen switched to a grainy security footage. Thick smoke billowed in the background as a young Olivia, dressed in her school uniform, wailed in front of an orphanage gate. The flashing lights of approaching fire trucks cast her shadow long and distorted.
"Do you remember that fire ten years ago, Olivia? The one that made you an orphan?" Alexander crouched down, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Funny thing is, Ethan's father's company sponsored that very orphanage. And wouldn't you know it, his father died under mysterious circumstances the same night." His thumb traced the scar on her collarbone. "Are you sure this little souvenir came from rescuing a cat? Or is there more to the story?"
Ethan suddenly surged forward, toppling a metal shelf. Boxes rained down, forcing Alexander to scramble out of the way. Seizing the opportunity, Olivia lunged towards Ethan, trying to untie the ropes binding his wrists. Just then, the side door of the warehouse burst open, and three masked men with guns charged in. Alexander ducked behind the screen, shouting, "Don't let them escape!"
Bullets whizzed past Olivia's head as Ethan tackled her to the ground. The rough concrete dug into her back, and she could feel warm blood dripping onto her neck. "Take the ventilation shaft!" Ethan gritted his teeth. "Crawl through and don't look back!" He managed to break free of one of the ropes and swung a punch at the nearest attacker.
With trembling hands, Olivia climbed into the narrow vent. Rusty metal scraped at her palms. Behind her, the sounds of the brutal fight echoed—grunts, screams, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. A faint light appeared at the end of the tunnel, and she crawled towards it with all her might, emerging into another dark alleyway. In the distance, she could hear police sirens wailing, but she knew better than to trust anyone.
Curled up next to a dumpster, rain mingling with her tears, Olivia clutched the diary. The pages were smeared with blood, but she managed to open it to a new entry, dated the day after the fire. Ethan's handwriting was so erratic it was almost illegible: I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. My father's death was connected to the fire. Alexander's father was behind it... They're trying to destroy all the evidence.
Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth. Olivia tried to scream, but her eyes met Ethan's exhausted yet determined gaze. His shirt was torn, his face bruised and bloodied, but he still held his blood-stained gun tightly. "It's me. Don't make a sound." He scanned their surroundings warily. "Alexander won't stop until we're both eliminated. We need to find a safe place."
Before Olivia could respond, the growl of a car engine cut through the night. Ethan grabbed her hand, and they took off running through the rain-slicked streets. Water splashed up to their knees as they darted past neon signs that blurred into a psychedelic haze. They ducked into a closing convenience store, Ethan pressing his body against the glass door to keep watch. "I left because I got a threat," he panted, his breath fogging up the glass. "They said they'd hurt you if I didn't disappear."
Olivia's eyes widened. In the warm glow of the store, she could see the pain and regret etched deep into Ethan's features. A radio on the shelf crackled to life with breaking news: "A violent shootout in Chinatown. Police are now hunting for two suspects..." The blurred images on the screen were unmistakably of her and Ethan.
"We need to go somewhere they'll never find us." Ethan reached for his wallet, and a faded photograph slipped out. In it, a six-year-old Olivia in a floral dress held a lollipop, beaming brightly. Just behind her, a young boy peeked shyly from the corner—the boy was clearly a young Ethan. Olivia's hands shook uncontrollably as Ethan bent down to pick up the photo. "Some fates are sealed from the beginning," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But this time, I'm not letting anyone tear us apart again."