7: Peril at Every Turn
Summary: Isabella is severely injured during her kidnapping. Jack carefully tends to her wounds, and their bond grows deeper amidst the chaos.
Chapter 2: Healing Wounds
As they fled from the abandoned warehouse, Jack could feel Isabella trembling against him. The explosion's shockwave still rang in his ears, and the echoes of collapsing walls seemed to follow them like a haunting memory. He held her hand tightly—once soft and delicate, now smeared with dirt and blood, cold and shaking. A crushing sense of guilt gripped his heart like an invisible vice. If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened to her.
They ran as fast as they could, leaving behind the burning wreckage, the sky thick with smoke and fire, roaring like an angry beast. Only when the sounds of pursuit faded into the distant hum of the city night did they dare to stop. They needed shelter—a place to catch their breath, even if just for a moment. Jack scanned the area until his eyes settled on a crumbling subway station entrance. Its rusted iron gate hung half-open, like the gaping mouth of a forgotten monster, leading into the unknown darkness below.
They stumbled inside. Darkness swallowed them whole, wrapping around them like a suffocating blanket. The air was damp and heavy with mildew, mixed with an indescribable stench that seemed to rise from the depths of neglect. Graffiti covered the walls—twisted letters and grotesque images emerging from the shadows, whispering stories of abandonment. Garbage and puddles littered the floor, splashing with every step, spreading foul water. Rats scurried in the corners, squeaking shrilly, adding to the eerie atmosphere. This decaying underworld felt like a festering wound beneath the polished surface of New York—a last refuge for the forgotten.
Jack leaned against the cold wall, panting heavily. Each breath sent sharp pains through his wounded body. The adrenaline had worn off, and fatigue and pain crashed over him like waves. His arms were cut from the metal shelves in the warehouse, dried blood darkening the wounds. His legs were scraped raw by debris, torn pants revealing bruises like ink stains beneath the skin. But it was Isabella's condition that weighed heaviest on him.
She sat curled up against the opposite wall, pale and drained of color. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if trying to hold together the fragments of her shattered spirit. Her eyes were hollow, like those of a broken porcelain doll—once bright, now only fear and emptiness remained. Her elegant evening gown was stained and ruined, just like her mood—broken and helpless.
"Isabella... are you okay?" Jack whispered gently, afraid of startling her. He crouched beside her, his voice calm but firm, trying to offer strength.
Isabella lifted her head, tears spilling over again. They slid down her cheeks, staining her dress. She choked back sobs, unable to speak, only gripping Jack's hand like a lifeline. It was cold and trembling, betraying her deep fear and vulnerability.
His heart ached as he pulled her close, holding her tightly. "It's over now. Everything's going to be alright. We're safe, Isabella. I promise—I'll never let anything hurt you again."
He felt her trembling in his arms, her tears soaking into his shoulder. He knew words alone couldn't heal her pain. She needed time to recover, someone to lean on—to feel protected again.
"We need to leave here," Jack said softly, stroking her back until her shivers eased slightly. "This place isn't safe. Richard could find us at any moment." He had to stay strong, make the right decisions, keep her out of danger.
Isabella nodded, though she clung to him as if afraid he might vanish the moment she let go.
Jack knew forcing her to move would only make things worse. She needed rest, nourishment, and above all, comfort and reassurance.
"I'll go get some food and water," he said gently, making sure his voice sounded steady and dependable. "Wait here. Don't go anywhere. I'll come back as soon as I can."
She released him slowly, nodding, but her eyes followed him with lingering fear, as if he were walking into endless darkness.
Jack stood and surveyed the surroundings. In a corner, he found a pile of cardboard boxes. After checking for hidden dangers, he pulled out a relatively clean piece—stained, but better than nothing. He laid it on the ground and helped Isabella sit down.
"You rest here," he told her, brushing strands of hair from her face. "I'll be back soon. Trust me."
With that, Jack stepped out of the subway station into the cold night. He needed to find a safer place, tend to her injuries, and most importantly, help her reclaim the courage and confidence stolen from her.
The night had grown darker, wind howling as if trying to devour everything in its path. City lights flickered in the distance like countless indifferent eyes watching silently over the city's sins and sorrows. Jack tightened his thin jacket and made his way toward a familiar location—an old contact from his underground days. The man was known as "Rat," a shady dealer who thrived on stolen goods. Though cunning and greedy, Rat owed Jack a favor—and more importantly, he knew the underbelly of New York better than anyone. Perhaps he could help them disappear.
Half an hour later, Jack reached a dim alley reeking of urine and rotting garbage. Walls were covered in vulgar graffiti, exuding despair. At the end of the alley, he knocked on a battered metal door, its rusted frame barely holding together.
"Who is it?" a raspy voice asked from behind the door, wary and annoyed.
"It's me. Jack." He kept his voice low, avoiding attention.
The door creaked open just enough to reveal a wrinkled face with cloudy eyes. Rat's skin was lined like a map of hardship and deceit, his sparse gray hair and missing teeth standing out in the dim light.
"Jack? What the hell happened to you?" Rat asked in surprise, clearly not expecting to see Jack in such a state.
Jack wasted no time. "I need your help, Rat. I need a safe place, some food, and medical supplies. I don't have any money—but I'll pay you back tenfold."
Rat studied Jack's wounds and the empty street behind him, then sighed, expression unreadable. "Come in."
Inside was a cramped, gloomy basement cluttered with stolen goods—designer watches, antique vases, and everything in between, piled chaotically. The air was thick with decay, a nauseating mix of spoiled food, moldy clothes, and old grime.
"Sit," Rat gestured toward a stained sofa. Then he disappeared into a corner, returning with bread, canned food, bottled water, and a first aid kit.
"Here," he handed them over. "Cheap stuff, but it'll do. Let me know if you need more."
Jack accepted the items gratefully. "Thanks, Rat. I owe you one."
"Pfft. For what?" Rat waved a hand, offering a rare smile. "You helped me once. Now I'm helping you. Besides..." he added, glancing at Jack, "seeing you like this reminds me of the past. You used to be a big shot on Wall Street."
"Richard's after me," Jack said bluntly. "I need to leave the city—fast."
Rat's smile vanished. His brow furrowed. "Richard? You tangled with him? That's bad. He's got powerful backers. You're in deep trouble."
"I know," Jack replied. "But I have no choice. He kidnapped my friend. I have to save her."
Rat fell silent, thinking. "Alright. I'll help. But I need time. Richard has eyes everywhere. I'll check the streets, see how tight the net is, and figure out a way to get you out."
"How long?" Jack asked. Time wasn't on his side.
"At least a day," Rat answered. "I need to gather info, find a safe route. And you..." he eyed Jack's injuries, "you need rest."
"A day..." Jack hesitated but realized he had no other option. He trusted Rat.
"Fine," Jack said. "I believe you."
"Don't worry," Rat patted his shoulder. "I won't let you down. Go check on your friend. She must be terrified. Tell her it'll be okay."
Jack nodded, took the supplies, and left the basement. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold air clear his mind. He knew the road ahead would be harder—but he wouldn't falter. For Isabella, for revenge, for redemption—he would rise again. Jack would not fall so easily.