Broken Alarms
1432 Words
POV: Amy
For three seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
Nathan lay crumpled on the rooftop above, still and silent.
The man who’d come for us had disappeared—like he’d been made of smoke instead of bone.
Ethan’s grip on my arm tightened.
“Amy, we need to move,” he hissed.
My body wouldn’t respond.
My mind was numb—stunned by how easily violence had unfolded.
“Nathan…”
The word forced its way out—hoarse, broken.
Ethan shook his head.
“We can’t go back up there. Not now. He’s gone, but he could come back—”
“He’s hurt,” I snapped, finally finding my voice.
“He could be bleeding—he could be—”
“Amy,” Ethan said more firmly, “if we go up there now, we could die too.”
It wasn’t cruel.
It was the truth.
I closed my eyes, swallowing the panic threatening to shred me apart.
Then—
a groan.
Soft.
Pained.
My head snapped up.
“Nathan!”
Instinct overrode fear.
I scrambled back up the ladder before Ethan could stop me.
My hands trembled as I climbed, the metal railing slick beneath my palms.
When I reached the top, I found Nathan on his side, curled like someone protecting something inside himself.
He wasn’t bleeding—at least, not visibly—but his breathing was shallow, strained.
I dropped to my knees beside him.
“Nathan—hey—stay with me.”
His eyes fluttered open.
“Amy…”
His voice was rough, breathless.
I helped him sit.
“Are you hurt? Can you stand?”
He nodded once—grimacing.
“Ribs,” he rasped.
“Just bruised.”
Just.
I wanted to laugh at the word.
Ethan climbed up and rushed over.
“Man, we thought you were dead—”
Nathan cut him off with a weak glare.
“Not yet.”
Relief flickered through me.
Nathan grabbed my wrist suddenly, grip tight despite the tremor in his fingers.
“You need to listen carefully,” he said.
I nodded.
“That wasn’t Rafe.”
The words sank slowly—cold and dense.
“If that wasn’t him…” I whispered,
“who was it?”
“His messenger,” Nathan said darkly.
“Rafe doesn’t show up unless it’s personal.”
Ice seeped into my bones.
“So this was a warning?”
Nathan’s jaw clenched.
“A greeting.”
My stomach churned.
Ethan looked between us in disbelief.
“This is insane. You’re telling me there are people hunting you—and now her?”
Nathan’s gaze hardened.
“They’re hunting David.”
He looked at me.
“And anything he cares about.”
The meaning echoed loud in my chest.
I looked toward the building edge—toward the empty space where the man vanished.
“Is he coming back?”
Nathan stifled a pained breath.
“Yes. Soon. He’ll be watching the exits—waiting for us to panic.”
“So what do we do?” Ethan asked.
Nathan turned toward the opposite side of the roof.
“We go. Quietly.”
I helped him stand, looping his arm over my shoulders.
He hissed in pain but stayed upright.
“We’ll cut through the next building,” he said, nodding toward the lower roof Ethan descended to. “Find a back alley, call a ride, disappear for a few hours.”
Disappear.
The word felt like surrender.
But staying here was suicide.
We climbed down to the lower roof—Nathan moving slowly, breath tight.
Ethan helped guide him.
Once we were all safely down, Nathan leaned against the concrete wall, sweat beading at his temple.
“Give me—”
he winced,
“—just a second.”
His face was pale.
Too pale.
“You’re not okay,” I whispered.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
I reached for him, but he caught my hand and shook his head.
“Amy, listen.”
Something in his tone made the air still.
“You need to call him.”
A beat.
“David.”
My chest tightened.
“I can’t call him. I don’t— I don’t know where he is. He hasn’t answered—”
Nathan held my gaze.
“He’ll answer now.”
Because of the threat.
Because of danger.
Because of me.
I took a shaky breath and pulled out my phone.
My fingers trembled as I dialed the number I’d memorized the night he left—even though I told myself I wouldn’t.
It rang once…
twice…
“Come on,” I whispered.
Three times.
Then—
click.
I expected silence.
Distance.
A curt acknowledgment.
Instead—
“Amy?”
His voice was breathless—raw—like he’d been running.
My heart stuttered.
“David—”
“Are you safe?” he cut in.
I looked at Nathan.
At Ethan.
At the rooftop we’d escaped.
“Yes,” I said.
“For now.”
His exhale shuddered through the line.
“Where are you?”
“On the roof—Nathan’s hurt—someone came—”
“Did he touch you?”
The words snapped like a whip.
“No—he—he pushed Nathan—he said to tell you hello.”
Silence.
But not empty.
Heavy.
Velvet.
Deadly.
David’s voice dropped to a pitch I’d never heard—
low and quiet enough to chill marrow.
“I’m on my way.”
Something inside me fractured.
Relief.
Fear.
Longing.
“David—what’s happening?”
“Get somewhere safe,” he said.
“I’ll find you.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly, pulse roaring in my ears.
Ethan stared at me.
“Well?”
“He’s coming.”
Nathan’s expression tightened—like he wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad.
“Then we move,” he said, pushing off the wall.
We crossed the lower roof toward a rusted maintenance door.
Nathan kicked it open and led us into a dim stairwell.
We descended two floors before he stopped, breath hitching.
I caught him again.
“Nathan, we need to rest—”
“No,” he panted.
“If we stop, we give them time.”
But his knees wobbled.
Ethan stepped forward.
“Hold on to me—”
Nathan shoved him back gently.
“I said—”
He swayed.
I grabbed his shoulders before he hit the ground.
“You’re not fine,” I said, voice trembling.
“You’re hurt—badly.”
Nathan looked at me—eyes unfocused, pain etched deep.
“Amy…”
His voice broke.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Then his legs gave out.
Ethan rushed to help as Nathan collapsed to the cold concrete floor.
“Nathan!”
I dropped beside him, checking his pulse, his breath.
Shallow.
Uneven.
“Call 911,” I said desperately.
Ethan’s fingers hovered over his phone.
“No—” Nathan gasped.
“No hospitals—he’ll find…”
His voice faded.
Panic flared.
I pressed my hand to his cheek, leaning close.
“Nathan, stay with me. Please.”
His eyes met mine—glassy, pained.
“You need to run.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
A faint, broken smile tugged at his lips.
“Stubborn… just like him.”
Then—
his eyes slid shut.
“Nathan!”
My voice cracked—too loud in the stairwell.
I shook him, desperate.
His body was warm—but still.
Ethan crouched beside me, voice shaking.
“Is he—”
“No,” I snapped.
“He’s breathing. He just needs help.”
“But we can’t bring him to a hospital,” Ethan said.
Silence stretched—the aching kind.
I looked down at Nathan—his face drawn, bruised, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen.
I touched his chest—felt his heart still fighting.
“I know someone,” I whispered.
Ethan blinked.
“Who?”
“David.”
I didn’t know how.
Or when.
Or where.
But I knew one thing with more certainty than anything I’d ever known.
He was coming.
And he would not let Nathan die.
I took a shaking breath.
“We just have to keep him alive… until he gets here.”
Ethan nodded.
“Then tell me what to do.”
And for a moment—
even in the darkness of the stairwell—
I felt something like hope.
Broken.
Bruised.
Frightened.
But alive.
- Writer
