HER "ROMANCE IN THE LAB"

RUN FOR HERSELF

The storm outside raged like the fury inside her chest. Maxine’s wet shoes slapped against the polished floor of the OMRIS Medical Corporation hallway, each step echoing off the walls. The golden vial pressed against her chest was warm from her trembling hands, and for a moment she felt a fragile sense of control. One small thing she could claim as her own.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The lab doors she had just fled behind seemed to shrink in memory, replaced now by the endless corridors that twisted like a labyrinth around her. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting stuttering shadows that reached for her. Every alarm, every metallic clink of doors, every distant echo of a footstep made her heart thud in wild, uneven rhythm.

Maxine didn’t dare look back. She didn’t need to. She could almost hear them, their presence, as potent and heavy as the storm. Mike, calm and unyielding, the predator who measured her breath and her pulse as if they were his property. Alden, desperate, protective, vulnerable, as if his very existence depended on saving her. And in that split second between running and breathing, she realized something that terrified and exhilarated her at the same time: she didn’t belong to either of them. Not truly.

The hallway ended in a large, glass-paneled exit. Rain beat against the windows like a thousand tiny hammers, the wind lashing at the glass with ferocity. Maxine’s hands shook, gripping the vial as if it could anchor her soul. Her lungs burned. She could feel her legs trembling beneath her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

Pushing open the exit, she stumbled into the night. Rain plastered her hair to her face and soaked through her clothes. Cold, and wet, in which every drop of water felt like freedom seeping into her skin. The storm howled above the city, masking the chaos she had left behind. And for a fleeting, perfect instant, she was invisible.

She ran. Past the parking lot, past the skeletal trees bending under the wind, past the flickering street lampshade. Her shoes slipped in the puddles, mud and rainwater mixing underfoot, but she didn’t stop. Her mind was a white-hot storm of thoughts, each one jagged and impossible to piece together.

"What do I do now?"

The question repeated like a song in her head. The vial pressed against her chest as though it were a lifeline, and maybe it was. The serum inside glimmered faintly, the promise of something, or anything she could control. But control felt like a distant fantasy. She wasn’t thinking logically, wasn’t planning. Survival had always meant obeying. But now… now survival was something else entirely.

She collapsed against the hood of a car, drenched, shivering, trying to gather herself. Her hands shook violently as she lifted the vial, staring at the liquid inside. It shimmered like liquid sunlight in the dark rain.

“What the hell am I doing?” she whispered to herself. Her voice was hoarse, raw from screaming, from fear, from longing. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of footsteps, fast, heavy, purposeful. Maxine froze. Her chest tightened. Adrenaline surged. She pressed herself against the side of the car, eyes straining in the darkness.

A figure emerged from the shadows, Alden. His hair plastered to his forehead, his jacket soaked through. His eyes were wide, scanning the street as if searching for her. Relief and terror battled across his face the instant he saw her crouched behind the car.

“Max!” he shouted over the storm, his voice raw, desperate. He ran to her, slipping once on the wet asphalt but never slowing. “Max, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She wanted to say something. Anything. But words failed her. Instead, she held up the vial, trembling, shaking violently. Alden’s eyes widened with recognition and confusion.

“You… you took it?” His voice was incredulous. “Max, do you know what you just did?”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. “I just… I needed something… something that’s mine. Something I can choose.”

Alden knelt beside her, pressing his hands over hers on the vial. His touch was warm, grounding, a tether to reality. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispered. “You never did. I’m here, Max. I’ve always been here. And I’ll always be here. I promise.”

Her body shook violently, not just from the cold but from the intensity of the moment. Every nerve in her body screamed for release, for relief, for safety. For someone to be there without demanding a piece of her soul. Alden’s presence was that safety. It was tenderness wrapped in quiet strength.

“Mike…” she muttered, barely audible. “He… he won’t stop. He… he thinks he owns me.”

Alden’s jaw tightened. “No. He doesn’t. He never has. Max, listen to me... he will try to scare you, manipulate you, make you doubt yourself. But you...” He paused, gripping her shoulders firmly. “You are not his. Not now, not ever.”

Her chest heaved. She wanted to believe him. She had to. And for the first time in months, maybe years, she allowed herself to feel something other than fear. She allowed herself to hope.

Rain plastered their hair to their faces as they stood, huddled together like warriors against the storm. Maxine’s grip on the vial loosened slightly, the cool glass now a symbol, not just a weapon. A choice. A small, fierce spark of autonomy in a world that had tried to strip her of it.

“Where do we go?” she asked finally, voice trembling.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere no one can reach us tonight,” Alden said, eyes scanning the streets. “We keep moving, keep safe, and then… we plan. You decide. I’ll follow you. Whatever you choose, I’ll follow.”

She nodded, clinging to him for a brief, fragile second before pulling back. The storm seemed to pulse with the intensity of her emotions. The wind whipped their clothes, lashing rain into their faces, but neither of them flinched. The world outside, so chaotic, mirrored the turmoil within her heart.

Maxine Medina, once caged, once obedient, once trapped by fear and rules, was running. Not from a job, not from obligations, not from men who claimed her life. She was running toward herself. Toward the raw, unbroken core of who she was when no one else was watching, when no one else demanded a piece of her.

And somewhere deep in the storm, she realized something vital: she didn’t have to choose yet. She didn’t have to surrender to Mike, and she didn’t have to lean entirely on Alden. She could exist in the gray space in between, claim her freedom piece by piece, fight for herself before letting anyone else in.

The night stretched endlessly ahead, rain-soaked and unforgiving. Maxine didn’t know what would happen next, if Mike would hunt her, if the world would tear her apart, if Alden would stay. She didn’t know. But for the first time, she felt… alive.

And that was enough.

With a fierce, trembling hand, she clutched the vial to her chest and ran into the storm. Alden followed, unwavering. And for the first time in a long time, Maxine Medina felt like she was finally… choosing her own path.

The storm wasn’t over. The world outside wasn’t safe. But she was, for now.

And sometimes, Maxine realized, that was all that mattered.