Tatto Lies

Chapter four:A desperate choice

The door slammed shut behind them, and the heavy silence of the house pressed down on Lyra’s chest. Her heart was pounding, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear and confusion. She stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the empty doorway, her mind struggling to make sense of everything that had just happened.

She knew they weren’t going to stop with just Zayden. No, Marlow’s goons weren’t the type to leave things unfinished. They’d be back—soon—and when they did, it would be worse. Worse for Zayden, worse for their mother, worse for everyone.

But she couldn’t let it end like this.

Not without a fight.

Not without trying.

Her eyes flicked to the door, the only barrier between them and what could happen next. The sound of distant engines revving outside made her skin crawl, and before she even realized what she was doing, her feet were moving. Fast. Determined.

She wasn’t sure what she thought she could do. She wasn’t sure how it was all going to play out. But she couldn’t stand by and let it happen. Not again. Zayden was her brother, and no matter how much he hurt them, no matter how much he dragged them through hell, she loved him. She always would. And she wasn’t going to let those bastards drag him off without at least trying.

She rushed through the front door, the cool air biting at her skin, and she saw the tail lights of the van already glowing in the distance. It was now or never. They were almost out of sight, but she had to get to them—had to get to Marlow.

Without thinking, Lyra sprinted down the front steps, pushing herself harder with every step. Her mind raced. What was she going to say to Marlow? How was she going to convince him? She had no idea, but she knew she couldn’t just stand there.

Her heart hammered in her chest, matching the rhythm of her feet pounding against the pavement.

She reached the street just in time, her breath coming in desperate, ragged gasps. She could see the van, its engine revving louder, the goons in the front seats, watching her approach with cold eyes.

"Wait!" she shouted, her voice hoarse with panic.

The van screeched to a halt. The men inside exchanged brief, unreadable looks, then slowly, one by one, they climbed out of the van.

Lyra’s legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to stand tall. She had to do this. She had to.

With as much confidence as she could muster, she strode forward, her voice steady despite the nerves twisting her insides. "I need to talk to Marlow."

The man with the scar—he was the leader, the one who had spoken before—raised an eyebrow. "Talk to him?" he repeated, a sneer curling his lips. "And why would he want to talk to you?"

"I want to follow you. I’ll go with you. Just don’t take my brother," Lyra said, the words tumbling out faster than she could process them.

The goons looked at each other, then back at her. There was a long, uncomfortable silence, the tension thick in the air, making Lyra’s throat tighten with fear.

She swallowed hard and took another step forward, forcing herself to meet their eyes. "He’s my brother. I can’t let you take him like this."

The leader’s expression softened, but it wasn’t with sympathy. It was something colder, more calculating. "Marlow doesn’t need you, girl," he said slowly, almost as if savoring the power he held over her. "But you want to follow? Fine. You’ll get your chance."

Lyra’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t know if this was a trick, if they were just playing with her, but she nodded anyway. "I’ll go. Just let him go."

The goon with the scar looked over at the others, who were now eyeing Lyra with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Finally, he shrugged. "Fine. We’ll take you to him. But don’t think you’ll change anything. Once Marlow’s made up his mind, there’s no going back."

Her heart pounded as she followed them to the van, the reality of her decision settling in. She was about to walk straight into the heart of the danger she’d spent so long trying to avoid. But it was too late to back out now.

They weren’t going to take Zayden without a fight.

And if she had to face Marlow herself to stop it, she would.

The engine roared to life, and just as Lyra climbed in, she caught a glimpse of Zayden in the back of the van. His eyes were wide, and even though he had been through hell, even though his face was pale and battered, she saw the faintest flicker of something in his gaze. It was the last bit of hope he had left, the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could stop this.

But as the van lurched forward, Lyra’s heart sank.

A sharp turn. The sound of tires screeching. And then—

“Where are you taking him?” she shouted over the roar of the engine, her voice filled with panic.

The scarred man looked at her, eyes hard as steel. “Marlow’s place. And you’re coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

Her stomach twisted in fear. The weight of the situation pressed down on her. She was no longer in control.

Suddenly, everything was happening too fast. Her thoughts were a blur, and every second felt like a lifetime. The streetlights faded as they drove further into the night, the city disappearing behind them.

Then, just as she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, the van screeched to a halt.

“Out,” the scarred man barked.

Lyra didn’t even hesitate. She climbed out, her mind racing, heart hammering in her chest. Her eyes flicked to Zayden, and she couldn’t help the rush of relief that flooded her as she saw he was still there, still alive, still with her.

But just as the last of her tension began to ebb away, the sound of a second vehicle approaching hit her ears. She turned, her heart leaping into her throat.

Another van—bigger. Blacker.

The door to the vehicle opened with a sickening screech, and two more men climbed out. Their faces were colder than ice, their eyes hard and emotionless.

The scarred man looked at Lyra. “You wanted to follow? You’re about to meet Marlow.”

The door slammed shut behind her with an awful thud.

Before Lyra could process the weight of it all, a voice shouted from inside the dark van, cold and calculating.

“Marlow’s orders. Both of them.”

Her blood ran cold.

The men stepped forward, one of them grabbing Lyra by the arm, the other dragging Zayden out of the van. Lyra struggled against the grip, her feet sliding in the gravel, heart racing as she watched them pull her brother along like a lifeless doll.

No, she couldn’t let them. Not like this.

"Please!" she screamed, her voice breaking, raw with desperation. "Don’t take him. Please. Take me instead."

The scarred man gave her a cruel smile. “No one’s taking anyone, sweetheart. Marlow’s got plans for both of you.”

And then, just like that, Zayden was yanked away from her, thrown into the back of the new van with such force that it made her sick. She was left standing, frozen in place, the world closing in around her.

She didn’t know what was going to happen next.

All she knew was that she couldn’t fight anymore.

And as the van doors slammed shut, she heard the chilling sound of the engine turning over. She heard the gurgling roar of the motor as it revved to life.

The goons climbed in, one of them looking back at her with a look of pure indifference. “Take a good look, Lyra. This is where your story ends.”

Then, they sped off into the night.

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