DAMNED

Chapter 10: Blood in the Compound

Robina’s wrists burned from the ropes, each movement sending fire up her arms.

The warehouse stank of sweat, rust, and fear—the air so thick it clung to her lungs. Somewhere in the shadows, Joshua groaned, his body broken from the last “test.” His voice was weak, but the sound of his suffering echoed like a warning. Amanda sobbed quietly, her throat raw, her voice hoarse from crying.

Robina’s heart pounded, the thought repeating in her mind like a drumbeat: We can’t stay here. We’ll die here.

She turned her gaze to Raell. His eyes blazed with determination, a fire that refused to be extinguished. He leaned closer, whispering, “They want us broken. But we’re not broken yet.”

Amanda shook her head violently, tears streaking her face.

“You don’t understand. They’ll kill us, one by one. Joshua… he’s proof.”

Cris snarled, his voice sharp. “Then we fight back. I don’t care if it’s with teeth and nails—we don’t just sit here waiting.”

Alice’s voice trembled, barely audible. “What if fighting makes it worse? What if they punish us harder?”

Krystina whispered a prayer, clutching her bound hands. “God, give us strength. Guide us out of this darkness.”

Eyrah groaned, shifting against his restraints. “Strength won’t come from prayers alone. Raell’s right—we need to act. If we wait, we rot.”

Joshua coughed weakly from the corner, his words strained but defiant. “Don’t… let them win. Don’t give them… what they want.”

Robina’s tears spilled freely as she clutched Raell’s arm. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

Raell met her gaze, his jaw set. “So am I. But fear means we’re still alive. And if we’re alive, we fight.”

The group fell silent, their breaths heavy, the weight of Raell’s words pressing into them. In the suffocating gloom of the warehouse, his defiance flickered like a fragile flame—small, but enough to keep hope alive.

Raell had been waiting, watching. Every time the guards entered, he studied their movements—the way their boots dragged, the weight of their weapons, the rhythm of their routines. Tonight, he saw an opening.

Two men dragged Joshua back into the cell, blood dripping from his mouth, his body limp but still breathing. As they shoved him down, one guard’s knife slipped from his belt, clattering to the floor.

Raell’s eyes locked on it. His muscles coiled. Then he lunged.

Chaos erupted. Raell snatched the knife, slashing upward in a desperate arc. The blade tore across the nearest guard’s arm, blood spraying as the man screamed and collapsed.

“Run!” Raell roared, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

The students scrambled to their feet, adrenaline surging. Cris tackled another guard, fists flying, his rage boiling over. “You bastards!” he shouted, each punch fueled by fury.

Krystina grabbed a broken chair leg from the corner, swinging it with trembling hands. The wood cracked against a guard’s shoulder, sending him staggering. “Stay back!” she cried, her voice shaking but fierce.

Eyrah kicked wildly, her screams echoing as her boot connected with a guard’s knee. The man cursed, stumbling, but retaliated with a savage blow to her ribs.

Robina pulled Amanda and Alice toward the door, her hands trembling but strong. “Move! Don’t stop!” Amanda sobbed, stumbling, while Alice whispered, “We can’t… we can’t…” Robina’s grip tightened. “We can. Keep going!”

The guards retaliated, fists and boots raining down. One slammed Cris against the bars, another struck Krystina across the face. Blood and sweat mixed with the stench of rust and fear.

Raell fought like a cornered animal, knife flashing in the dim light. He slashed, stabbed, blocked, his own blood dripping from fresh wounds. “We’re not dying here!” he snarled, his voice raw, defiant.

Joshua, barely conscious, groaned from the floor. “Don’t… stop… fight…” His words were weak, but they lit a spark in the others.

The warehouse became a storm of screams, steel, and desperation. Every strike, every cry was a gamble between survival and death.

Santos’ POV

Santos burst into the warehouse room, horror blazing in his eyes. “Stop! Enough!” His voice cracked, echoing against the rusted beams and peeling walls.

But Eugenio’s men ignored him, their boots grinding against the concrete as they pressed forward. Their orders were clear: break them, crush them. One guard swung his baton at Raell, another shoved Alice back against the bars.

He froze, his chest heaving as he watched Raell s***h another guard, the knife flashing in the dim light. Blood sprayed, the man collapsed with a scream. Robina shoved Amanda through the door, her hands trembling but fierce.

His conscience screamed louder than the chaos around him.

They’re just kids. This isn’t discipline. This is murder.

“Damn it, stop!” Santos shouted again, but his words drowned beneath the clash of fists, screams, and steel. His stomach churned, bile rising as he realized he had become part of something monstrous.

Far away, in his mansion of marble and glass, Eugenio received the report. A servant bowed low, voice steady: “They fought back. One guard dead, another wounded.”

Eugenio’s smile was cold, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He swirled his wine, savoring the crimson liquid as though it were blood itself. “Good,” he murmured. “Let them fight. Fear tastes sweeter when it’s mixed with hope.”

He leaned back in his chair, imagining the students’ desperation, their fleeting courage. To him, their rebellion was not a threat—it was seasoning, a way to make their eventual defeat more exquisite.

Back in the abandoned warehouse, Raell shoved Robina through the doorway, blood streaking his face, his breath ragged. “Go! I’ll hold them!” he barked, his voice raw with urgency.

Robina screamed, her voice breaking. “No! You’ll die!” Her hands clung to his arm, desperate to pull him with her.

But Raell’s eyes blazed, fierce and unyielding. “If I fall, you survive. Run!” His words were a command, not a plea.

The students bolted down the corridor, their footsteps echoing like thunder against the rusted walls. Amanda stumbled, sobbing, but Alice pulled her forward. Cris shouted, “Keep moving!” as he shoved Krystina ahead. Eyrah’s voice rang out, trembling but defiant: “Don’t look back!”

Behind them, chaos exploded. Raell fought desperately, knife flashing in the dim light. He slashed at one guard’s throat, blood spraying across the concrete. Another lunged at him with a baton, but Raell twisted, driving the blade into the man’s side. Screams filled the compound, mingling with the metallic clang of weapons and the pounding of boots.

Robina turned once, tears streaking her face, her voice cracking as she cried out, “Raell!”

But Cris yanked her forward. “Don’t stop! He’s buying us time!”

The corridor shook with violence. Guards retaliated, fists and boots raining down, but Raell fought like a cornered animal, every strike fueled by desperation. His body was battered, blood dripping from fresh wounds, yet his knife never faltered.

“Run!” Raell roared again, his voice echoing through the warehouse like a vow.

The students fled deeper into the shadows, their hearts pounding, their breaths ragged. Behind them, Raell’s defiance lit the darkness—a single flame against the storm, burning even as the world tried to snuff it out.

Robina and her friends burst into the night air, lungs burning, hearts pounding as they stumbled out of the warehouse. The cold wind slapped their faces, sharp and biting after the suffocating stench inside. Their footsteps echoed across the cracked pavement, each stride fueled by terror and adrenaline. They had escaped the cell—but Raell was still inside, fighting alone against the storm of guards.

Robina’s tears streaked her face, her breath ragged. She turned once, the warehouse looming behind them like a beast’s maw, swallowing Raell whole.

Her voice broke into a whisper, fragile and trembling: “Please survive.”

Amanda clung to her arm, sobbing. “We can’t leave him—he’ll die!”

Cris growled, his voice hoarse. “If we go back, we all die. He knew that.”

Alice shook her head, trembling. “But he’s one of us… how can we run without him?”

Krystina whispered a prayer, her words barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. “God, protect him. Protect us.”

Eyrah spat, her voice sharp with fury. “Then we make his fight worth it. We keep running. We survive.”

The group pressed forward into the night, their shadows stretching long across the cracked asphalt, each step a fragile defiance against despair.

Far away, in his mansion bathed in golden light, Eugenio Cardinal raised his glass. The wine shimmered like blood in the crystal, his smile cold and predatory. He imagined Robina’s terror, her tears, her desperate plea for Raell’s survival.