The Scent of Ruin

Chapter 1 "Where the f**k are they?" He roared. His hands raised, pounding with heavy punches repeatedly. The whole place had a dense metallic scent of blood, and the whole place was pin-drop silent except for the sound of heavy punches and battered flesh. "At the border, our men found them trying to leave." A tall, husky guard with a deep voice said; no matter how many times he had seen this scene, he still felt terror. After the guard ended his sentence, the torture stopped and a terrifying silence followed. "Hmm." The guards lining the hall dropped to their knees, trembling before his wrath. "Deal with him first — then clean this mess up." "Yes, Alpha." With that he left the hall with blood trailing behind him. * Time wasn't on Celeste's side; the longer she stayed here, the harder it became. And she knew that whoever the big shot in charge of this operation was would be here anytime soon and she couldn't afford that. "Excuse me, I would like to use the restroom." At this point she was out of options and needed to leave. They stared at each other shortly after she spoke, like they were communicating but she didn't think much about it at this point. She didn't know who they were looking for but for some reason, a lot of people were held back and their things confiscated—thankfully she only had a duffle bag with a pair of clothes and a packet of chips inside. "Sure." The speaker was a man with a British accent, fully equipped with a gun hung around his neck. Only his blue eyes could be seen. He made a gesture to a smaller physique—a woman—to follow her. "Move it." She said, pulling Celeste's arm as they moved towards the restroom. By the time they got to the door of the restroom, the pulling and shoving had successfully opened Celeste's old wound. The woman stopped, staring down at her before sniffing the air around her, which was strange. "I think I'm on my period, I tend to bleed heavily." She lied through her teeth. The woman's nose wrinkled, disgust clear on her face. "Gross." She muttered. Angrily she shoved Celeste into the stall. "I'll be right back." She said through gritted teeth; once she was far away Celeste let out a scoff. Cleaning her wound with what was available, it was time to leave; she searched for an opening to see how tight the security was. There was a small window roughly the width of her shoulders and the good thing was that she was on the ground floor. Standing on the toilet, head outstretched. Surprisingly, the security wasn't as tight as she imagined; she could hear heavy footsteps in the corridor. She pushed herself out from the small window, landing on her feet with ease. The building was an old one; it rose three storeys above her, the window was barely hanging off its hinges, the mounted cameras at the corner of the roof were no longer in service. Whoever had sealed this building didn't take it seriously and that was her margin. She slid along the walls and made a run towards the forest. She ran. * A black matte sedan rolled to a slow, deliberate stop in front of the sealed off building; the tyres left trails on the tracked road. The guards straightened instantly. The rear door opened. And he stepped out of the car and walked with an unhurried stride. A tailored black coat hung from his broad shoulders and moved with every stride he took. He stood well over 193 cm tall; his height alone was enough to draw attention. The way he carried himself made people cower and hide. An oppressive feeling. Pale skin, sharp jaw and highly sculpted cheekbones. His silver eyes were the most unsettling part. They weren't warm but rather predatory and cold; they seemed to glitter in the dark. He held a tobacco cigarette between his long, thick fingers; he took a long drag and crushed the rest beneath the heel of his shoe. His Beta, Reis, said, falling into step beside him. He kept his pace and his voice level, because those were the two non-negotiable requirements of working in this man's proximity. "Four confirmed hostiles identified and are held on the second floor." Reis reported. A faint hum was heard and he moved toward the building. Celeste stopped only after covering some distance. Her back pressed against the nearest tree. Her hand against her side — shirt soaked through, the wound. She pulled a small communicator device from her hair; it looked like a regular wrist band. She pressed the centre panel once , feeling a faint pulse of warmth against her wrist. Her voice was low and her breath barely steady. "Callum. You there?" The communicator made some rustling noise, then a voice was heard. "I'm here. Talk to me. Where are you?" Callum's deep and urgent voice was heard. "Outside the building. In the forest, East perimeter." She exhaled. "I'm out. But the situation isn't good; I don't know how long I have before they figure out I'm gone." "Are you hurt?" "My old wound reopened. It's manageable. That's not the priority right now." She pressed harder against the tree, scanning the silent forest. "Callum, the building — it's fully sealed. On the inside, there are few personnel but they're equipped. I counted at least fourteen armed, both in and out; not too sure about the front." "How many people are inside?" "I don't know the full count. But roughly thirty; I don't know how sure I am that those people held captive are really not good people." There was a pause on his end. He was already pulling up maps and intel feeds he had access to — she checked— three fifteen in the morning. "How did you get out?" "Toilet window on the first floor." There was a pause. "I don't recommend it." "We will have that conversation later. Right now — can you move?" "I can move." She pushed off the tree. "There's an extraction point two kilometers northeast of your position. Old rail depot, east entrance. I'll see you there in forty minutes." "Make it thirty." She looked back towards the building. Still dark and quiet but tightening. Behind her, through the dense dark and two hundred metres of concrete, every light on the building's first floor came on simultaneously. She's missing… "Where is she?" The man with the Russian accent roared. "I..I..I don't know, she was right here." The woman who'd watched her stammered, her head down and eyes filled with fear. The man with the Russian accent entered the bathroom which still had a faint scent of blood. His eyes lifted, seeing the stained wall and open window. "Find her. She must not have gotten too far." He said, pointing at the woman. "Take a few men and drag her back if you have to; if not, I'll have your head." His voice dropped dangerously low at the end of the sentence; the woman shivered as a cold sweat trailed down her back. "Yes sir." And with that she fled, taking two men with her and heading towards the back door. Immediately after they left, a guard entered the restroom and whispered something in the ear of the man; his face turned solemn as he hurriedly left the place.