CHAPTER 6 — The Door That Shouldn’t Open
976 Words
The warehouse went silent.
Not quite dead.
Adrian’s hand tightened around my wrist, steady but urgent, pulling me deeper behind the thick metal support pillar. My pulse hammered in my ears so loudly I almost missed the next sound.
A slow, heavy drag across the outside wall.
Metal against metal.
Someone was circling the building.
Adrian leaned forward just enough to see through the gap between crates, his shoulders tensed, every muscle coiled like a drawn bow. I could hear his breath, controlled, measured, too calm for what was happening.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, barely audible.
I nodded, even though I doubted my body could’ve moved if it tried.
Another bang rattled the warehouse door.
This one is sharper.
More deliberate.
Like they weren’t searching anymore.
Like they knew we were inside.
Adrian reached behind his waistband and pulled out a gun, black, matte, terrifyingly familiar in his hands. He clicked something quietly, checking the chamber.
“You… you have a gun?” I breathed, horrified and relieved all at once.
“Of course, I have a gun,” he murmured without looking back. “People are trying to kill me.”
Fair point.
A metallic shriek filled the air as the door’s bottom corner warped inward. Someone was prying it open.
My chest tightened.
“How did they find us so fast?” I whispered.
Adrian didn’t answer right away. His eyes were trained on the door, calculating, razor-sharp.
“They shouldn’t have,” he muttered. “There are only two ways they could’ve tracked us this fast.”
“Which are?”
He turned to me for half a second, just long enough to send a cold shiver down my spine.
“Either someone saw us enter… or someone knew where I would go.”
“You mean… someone close to you?”
My voice cracked.
He didn’t deny it.
The door slammed again, harder. A dent appeared in the metal.
Adrian grabbed my arm, not rough, but strong enough that I felt it deep in my bones.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
“How? They’re literally right outside!”
He didn’t blink. “There’s a back exit most people don’t know about.”
“Most?”
“Trust me.”
His hand slid down my arm until his fingers laced with mine, gripping firmly.
I didn’t even have time to question it. He was already pulling me toward the far end of the warehouse.
We passed rows of dusty crates, engine parts, and rusted tools, all relics that were swallowed by time. My heart pounded with every footstep.
Another slam.
The front door began to buckle.
“Adrian ...”
“Don’t look back,” he said.
I looked back.
A dark silhouette appeared at the cracked doorway, pushing, forcing itself through.
Adrian cursed under his breath and picked up the pace, practically guiding me into a jog.
“Through here.”
He stopped abruptly in front of a seemingly solid wall.
He pressed his palm against a rusted panel.
A soft mechanical click echoed.
A hidden door swung inward.
“You’re kidding me,” I whispered.
“No time. Go.”
I slipped inside first. The narrow passage smelled of oil and damp concrete. Adrian followed and shut the panel behind us, plunging us into dim emergency lighting that flickered along the walls.
We walked fast, our footsteps echoing in the tight corridor.
My breath trembled as adrenaline surged through me.
“You knew about this hideout because… you’ve used it before?”
He didn’t answer; his silence said enough.
“How many times have you had to run?” I whispered.
“Too many.”
The corridor got narrower. Adrian shifted closer behind me, so close I could feel the heat from his body and the rhythm of his breathing.
It should’ve comforted me.
It only made my pulse faster.
“Lena,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble in the tight space.
“Yes?”
“If anything happens… if I tell you to run..., you run.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I said, surprising even myself.
He stopped walking.
I almost collided with him.
He turned slightly, just enough that his breath brushed the side of my neck. The dim red lighting softened the sharp edges of his face, making his eyes look darker and deeper.
“You don’t understand what you’re saying,” he whispered.
“Maybe I do.”
His hand brushed my waist, guiding me gently around a corner.
Not protective.
Not possessive.
Something in between.
Something more dangerous.
“We’re almost out,” he murmured, his voice softer than it should’ve been.
I swallowed hard.
“Where do we go after?”
“Someplace safer.”
“Is that even possible with you?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
“For you? I’ll make it possible.”
My chest tightened painfully.
But before I can say anything else,
A loud crash echoed through the passage behind us.
Adrian shoved me forward.
“They found the secondary entrance,” he hissed. “Move.”
We ran.
The corridor shook as footsteps pounded closer, multiple shadows, multiple pursuers.
Adrian grabbed the emergency latch and shoved the final door open. Cold night air rushed in like a slap.
We stumbled outside into the darkness behind the warehouse.
He pulled the door shut behind us and jammed a metal rod through the handles to slow them down.
“Adrian”
“We need to lose them,” he said, scanning the alleyway with sharp, assessing eyes.
He reached for my hand again and gripped it tightly.
“Stay with me, Lena.”
I didn’t even get the chance to answer.
Because the moment we stepped into the open.
A bullet hit the wall inches from my head.
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