Tatto Lies

CHAPTER FIVE:INTO THE DARK

The van door slammed shut behind Lyra with a heavy thud, sealing her fate as it echoed in her chest. Her mind was still reeling from the events, from the sight of Zayden being dragged away, from the cruel indifference in the eyes of the men. She was shaking, trying to process everything, but it felt like time had slowed down. The harsh screech of the van’s engine was deafening in the silence, drowning out the frantic beat of her heart.

But just before the van began to move, the leader—the man with the scar—stepped out, phone in hand, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression. He didn’t look back at her as he made the call, speaking in low tones to someone on the other end. Lyra strained to hear, but all she caught were fragments of words: "Marlow... she’s here... bring her to you... just like you wanted." His voice was rough, but there was a certain reverence in the way he spoke, like he was used to taking orders from someone far more dangerous than himself.

He didn’t stay long on the call. He hung up, his lips curling into a smirk as he turned back to Lyra, who was still sitting on the hard, cold bench in the back of the van. His cold eyes locked onto hers, and he whispered something to one of the other men, one who was standing near the door, watching her every move with calculating eyes.

Without warning, the man who had been given the whispered order grabbed Lyra by the arm, yanking her up from the seat. Her stomach lurched with fear, and before she could even process what was happening, she was forced onto the cold metal floor. Her heart raced in panic, her mind scrambling for a way to fight back, but it was no use.

They were too strong. Too prepared.

The leader reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a syringe filled with a clear liquid. It glinted under the harsh light of the van’s interior. Lyra’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “No!” she shouted, struggling to break free, but it was futile. They pinned her down with ease, their hands firm on her arms, legs, and shoulders.

The syringe was already at her neck before she could do anything. She fought, kicked, screamed, but it was all in vain. The needle pierced her skin, and the cold liquid rushed into her veins.

Her vision blurred almost instantly, the world around her spinning, the edges of her consciousness fading. She felt a strange weightlessness, a numbness creeping in, and she couldn’t hold on any longer.

Before she slipped into unconsciousness, she heard one of the men murmur, “She’ll be out for the ride.”

And then, the darkness swallowed her whole.

---

Back at home, Evelyn sat on the couch, her hands trembling as she clutched a picture frame in her lap. It was the last photograph she had of her children, taken years ago when they were still innocent, before everything had spiraled out of control. Her heart ached as she looked at the smiling faces, so full of hope. Now, those faces seemed like ghosts, lost in the chaos that had consumed their lives.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Her mind kept replaying the events of the day—the men who had come for Zayden, the fear in his eyes, and now, Lyra. She could feel the panic rising in her chest again, tightening her throat. Where were they? What were they doing to her children?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Evelyn froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stood up slowly, fear creeping up her spine. She walked to the door, but before she could even reach the handle, the door burst open. The neighbors who had been watching from their windows had all gone inside, leaving her alone with the silence.

And then, the phone buzzed again.

Evelyn’s hands shook as she picked it up. The screen flashed with an unknown number, and her heart sank. She knew it was bad news. With trembling fingers, she answered, “Hello?”

A deep, cold voice came through the receiver. “Your daughter and your son are on their way to Marlow. You should prepare yourself.”

The line went dead.

Evelyn’s knees gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, the weight of the words crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. She felt a sob rising in her chest, but she couldn’t hold it back. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air, her body shaking uncontrollably.

“Please,” she whispered, choking on the word. “Please, no.”

---

In the van, Lyra’s body remained still, her breathing shallow as the cold, lifeless grip of the drug took hold of her. The sound of tires on the pavement was the only thing she could hear, distant and muffled, like she was underwater. Her limbs felt heavy, like they were made of lead, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to pull herself back into the present.

Through the haze, she thought she saw a figure—a shadow—standing at the front of the van. It wasn’t Marlow, but someone else, someone with a cold smile and cruel eyes. They were staring at her, watching her like a specimen in a cage.

But Lyra couldn’t fight it anymore. The darkness closed in around her, and with one final, desperate breath, she drifted into unconsciousness.

---

The scene outside the van grew quieter and quieter as the world around her faded. The last thing she heard before everything went black was the sound of the engine, slowly fading into the night. And the voice, barely a whisper:

“Marlow will deal with you now.”

The van doors slammed shut.

As Lyra’s world fades into unconsciousness, Evelyn’s cries fill the empty house. The fate of her children rests in the hands of Marlow, and there is no turning back now. The storm has come, and there’s no way to escape.