Next to You, Then Gone

Chapter 11: The Doctor’s Shadow

Elara’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the man step out of the black car across the street. He leaned against the hood, eyes fixed on her motel room window like a predator waiting for its prey to move. Even from this distance, she could feel the danger radiating off him.

She quickly stepped away from the window, heart slamming against her ribs. Her hands shook as she gathered her few things; the USB drive, her half-charged phone, and the small pocket knife she’d bought from a street vendor earlier. No suitcase. No extra clothes. Just survival.

"Think, Elara. You can’t stay here."

She remembered Damien’s words from the video. "Dr. Elias Thorne. Blue Raven." That was her next move. But first, she had to get out alive.

The motel room had a small back window that overlooked a narrow alley filled with trash bins and overgrown weeds. It was risky, but it was her only option. She opened it quietly, the rusty frame scraping loudly enough to make her wince. She climbed out, dropping down onto the wet ground with a soft thud. Pain shot through her already bruised ankles, but she ignored it and started running.

The alley smelled of rot and rainwater. She kept close to the walls, moving as fast as she could without making too much noise. Behind her, she heard car doors slamming and footsteps; they had realized she was gone.

“Find her!” a deep voice barked. “She can’t have gone far.”

Elara ran harder. Her lungs burned. Every shadow looked like a threat. She cut through another alley, then crossed a busy street, dodging cars that honked angrily at her. She didn’t stop until she reached a crowded market area a few kilometers away. Only then did she slow down, blending into the crowd of evening shoppers.

She found a quiet corner near a fruit stall and pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled as she searched for Dr. Elias Thorne. There were three results in the city. One was a retired surgeon. She dialed the number with a racing heart.

It rang four times before a cautious male voice answered. “Hello?”

“Dr. Thorne?” Elara whispered, cupping her hand around the phone. “My name is Elara Voss. Damien — Alexander sent me. Blue Raven.”

There was a long silence on the other end.

“Where are you?” the doctor finally asked, voice low and urgent.

She gave him her approximate location in the market.

“Stay there. I’ll send someone. Look for a blue Toyota with a white scratch on the door. Don’t talk to anyone else. And Elara… be careful. They’re everywhere.”

The call ended.

Elara waited, nerves stretched thin. She bought a cheap scarf from a vendor and wrapped it around her head and shoulders, trying to change her appearance. Every few seconds, she scanned the crowd for familiar faces; Marcus, Victor Kane’s men, even Reyes.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, a blue Toyota with a visible white scratch on the passenger door pulled up near the edge of the market. A middle-aged woman in nurse scrubs was driving. She caught Elara’s eye and nodded once.

Elara slipped into the back seat quickly. The car moved away smoothly.

“I’m Clara,” the woman said without looking back. “Dr. Thorne’s assistant. He’s waiting for you at a private clinic. Try to rest. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Elara leaned her head against the seat, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. “I have. I just want Damien back.”

Clara didn’t reply. The rest of the drive was silent.

---

"Flashback – Two years ago"

The night Damien first told her he loved her.

They were on the rooftop of his penthouse, city lights sparkling below like stars that had fallen to earth. A gentle breeze played with Elara’s hair as Damien pulled her close, his strong arms wrapping around her waist.

“I’ve never said this to anyone before,” he admitted, voice rough with emotion. “I’ve had women, money, power… but nothing ever felt real. Until you, Elara. You make me want to be someone better. Someone worthy of you.”

Tears had filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “I love you too, Damien. More than I thought was possible.”

He kissed her then; slow, deep, and full of fire. His hands roamed her back, pulling her impossibly closer as if he was afraid she might disappear. That night they made love under the open sky, passionate and tender, whispering promises of forever between gasps and moans.

“I’ll never leave you,” he had vowed against her skin. “Next to you is the only place I belong.”

---

The memory brought fresh tears to Elara’s eyes as the car finally stopped outside a small, unassuming building on the outskirts. It looked more like a private residence than a clinic. Clara led her inside through a side entrance.

Dr. Elias Thorne was waiting in a dimly lit office. He was in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, sharp intelligent eyes, and a kind but tired face. Medical equipment and books lined the walls.

“Elara Voss,” he said, standing up. “Alexander spoke highly of you. Sit down. You’re safe here for now.”

She collapsed into the chair. “Please tell me what’s going on. Where is he? How do we get him back?”

Dr. Thorne poured her a glass of water and sat across from her. “Alexander — Damien was my patient for years. I helped him with his identity change. Treated wounds he could never explain to normal doctors. He was trying to leave the Syndicate for good. For you.”

He slid a folder across the desk. “These are the locations we suspect. One is a heavily guarded estate north of the city. But getting in won’t be easy. They have eyes everywhere; police, businessmen, even some of his closest friends.”

“Marcus?” Elara asked bitterly.

The doctor nodded. “Marcus has always played both sides. Smart, but dangerous. You were right not to fully trust him.”

Elara opened the folder with trembling hands. Photos, maps, and medical notes on Damien’s old injuries stared back at her. One recent note caught her eye — a possible sighting of Damien being moved two days ago, looking badly beaten.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“He’s suffering because of me,” she whispered.

“No,” Dr. Thorne said firmly. “He’s suffering because of the choices he made to build a life with you. And he would do it again. But we need to move fast. I have contacts who can help us infiltrate, but it will cost money and carry huge risks.”

Before Elara could respond, the door to the office burst open. Clara rushed in, face pale.

“Doctor! Two cars just pulled up outside. They’re not ours.”

Dr. Thorne stood up quickly. “They must have followed you. Elara, take this.” He pressed a small black device into her hand, another USB. “It has everything. Go out the back. There’s a motorcycle. Keys are in it. Head to the old train station. I’ll contact you when it’s safe.”

Gunshots echoed from the front of the building.

Elara’s eyes widened in horror. “What about you?”

“I’ll hold them off. Go! Now!”

She hesitated only a second before running. She found the motorcycle in the back garage, started it with shaking hands, and sped out into the night just as more men stormed the clinic.

The wind whipped against her face as she rode through dark roads, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sirens wailed in the distance.

She had escaped again, but at what cost? Had she just gotten another innocent person hurt or killed?

Elara reached the old train station and hid the motorcycle behind an abandoned container. She was breathing hard, body exhausted, but her mind was clearer than ever.

She pulled out both USB drives and clutched them tightly.

“I’m coming, Damien,” she whispered into the darkness. “No matter who I have to fight. No matter what I have to become.”

But as she looked up, she saw headlights approaching the station slowly. Multiple vehicles this time.

They had found her again.

And this time, Victor Kane himself stepped out of the lead car, flanked by armed men.

“Elara Voss,” he called out, voice echoing through the empty station. “Game over. Come out now, or we start shooting until we hit you.”