Episode 79 — Shadows Don't Fade
The soft hum of the generator echoed through the safehouse like a whisper of survival. Somewhere behind cracked stone and flickering lights, the river kept flowing, indifferent to the blood and pain it had witnessed the night before.
Aria sat cross-legged on the cold floor beside the cot, her back stiff from hours of vigilance. Raian's breathing had stabilized—barely. Shallow, irregular, but there. The antiseptic smell clung to her fingers, mixed with the metallic scent of blood dried into the bandages she'd replaced over and over.
She watched his face, pale against the worn pillow, every rise and fall of his chest a victory in itself.
"You always needed to be in control," she whispered, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "But you never controlled how much I'd care."
The last twelve hours had torn through her soul like a blade. Every second he hovered between life and death, her heart dangled by a thread.
Saira stepped into the room quietly, a cup of bitter instant coffee in hand. Her face was taut, sleepless.
"No change?" she asked.
Aria shook her head.
Saira sighed. "He's holding on for you."
"He's holding on for revenge," Aria said quietly. "But that might not be enough anymore."
There was silence between them. Thick. Unspoken truths hung in the air — about Ishaan, about the ambush, about trust broken and never fully rebuilt.
"I didn't bring them there on purpose," Saira murmured, voice taut with guilt. "But I did keep things from him. From you."
Aria turned toward her slowly. "You were playing both sides, weren't you?"
"I was trying to survive," Saira admitted. "But I chose Raian in the end."
"In the end," Aria repeated, softly. "Only after he was already bleeding."
Saira's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. Instead, she sat down against the opposite wall, her head falling back with a tired thud.
"His enemies won't stop just because Ishaan is gone," she muttered. "There are bigger names, darker shadows. Ishaan was just the blade — not the hand."
Aria's stomach turned. She had stepped into a war she didn't understand. Yet every day that passed, she bled a little more for it.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked suddenly.
Saira hesitated, then pulled out a folded, blood-stained envelope from her coat. "This was in Ishaan's coat," she said. "Raian should've seen it… but maybe you need to, too."
Aria took it with trembling hands. The paper crackled softly as she opened it.
Inside were two things: a photograph — old, grainy, unmistakably Raian's father standing beside a man with a crescent-shaped scar under one eye — and a note written in coded shorthand.
Aria frowned. "This… isn't just about vengeance."
Saira nodded. "Raian thinks Ishaan was the endgame. But this goes back further — to the people who buried his family's truth. The people who run this city's underground like a shadow government."
"He's too weak," Aria said, clutching the paper. "This could kill him if we let him chase it right now."
"Then hide it," Saira said simply. "But not for long. He needs to know what he's fighting for."
Aria didn't reply.
---
That night, Raian stirred.
His hand twitched, fingers curling weakly in the sheets. Aria was instantly beside him, hand in his.
"Raian?" she whispered. "I'm here."
His eyes opened slowly, unfocused, but the steel within them hadn't dulled.
"You're safe," she said, smiling through the ache. "We made it."
He tried to speak, but only a rasp escaped.
"Don't," she said, pressing a finger gently to his lips. "Save your strength."
He blinked at her, lips twitching into the faintest curve. "You stayed…"
"Of course I did."
Silence wrapped around them, heavy but not unwelcome.
Then: "Ishaan?"
"Gone," she said softly. "Saira shot him."
Raian's eyes flickered. A long breath shuddered out of him.
"I couldn't protect you," he said after a moment.
"You did," she said. "You kept me alive. You fought to your last breath."
"But I dragged you into hell."
"You didn't drag me," she said. "I walked in. For you."
He closed his eyes again, fingers curling into hers.
"I don't deserve you."
"No," she said. "You don't. But I'm here anyway."
---
Three days passed.
Raian's wounds slowly knit together under Aria's relentless care. Saira brought supplies. No one spoke of what came next — not yet.
But on the fourth morning, Raian tried to sit up.
"You need rest," Aria said, immediately at his side.
"I need to get back to work," he muttered. "There's too much unfinished."
Aria crossed her arms. "Like bleeding out on the floor again?"
He sighed, leaning back. "You don't understand. I have enemies everywhere. If I disappear too long, someone else takes the throne. Or burns it down."
Aria hesitated. Then reached into her coat and handed him the envelope.
He stared at it.
"Found it on Ishaan," she said. "Read it when you're ready. But know — this goes deeper than revenge."
Raian's expression shifted as he unfolded the paper.
The photograph made his jaw tighten.
The coded note turned his eyes stormy.
"I knew it," he said after a long moment. "I knew it wasn't just him."
Aria sat beside him. "But you're not strong enough yet."
"I will be," he said quietly.
"I'm with you," she replied. "But this time, we fight smart."
Raian looked at her, really looked — and something changed in his eyes.
"You're not just someone I protect anymore," he said softly. "You're my compass. My anchor."
"And you're the storm I chose," she said, touching his cheek. "So let's survive it together."
---
Meanwhile, across the city, in a quiet underground chamber beneath an abandoned museum, a man watched surveillance footage of the safehouse from an untraceable feed.
He leaned back in his leather chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically.
The man with the crescent scar.
"Raian is alive," he murmured, voice smooth. "And he has the girl."
A shadow stepped into the frame behind him. "Should we move?"
"Not yet," the man said, smile curving. "Let them think they're safe. Then we pull the thread that unravels them both."
His eyes glinted with malice. "The game has only just begun."
---
Episode 80 Preview:
Enemies gather in silence. Raian's past surfaces with fangs, and Aria must decide — will she be his shield, or his weapon?