The alarm blared like a scream tearing through the dark.
"BREACHED PERIMETER. SECOND WAVE INBOUND. ELEVEN MINUTES UNTIL ENTRY."
Elisa's pulse erupted in her ears. She held Damon tighter, shaking.
"Damon?" She tapped his cheek desperately. "Wake up—please wake up!"
His skin was clammy, his breath shallow. The bullet hole at his side bled through his shirt, staining her hands crimson.
"Think, Elisa," she told herself. "Don't panic—think."
Her training as a medical student kicked in—instinct focusing her through the fear.
She tore off the bottom of her shirt and pressed the fabric firmly to his wound. Damon groaned softly, a sound both relief and agony.
"Stay with me. Please."
Her fingers trembled as she applied pressure. She needed medical supplies. Bandages. A way to stop the bleeding.
Her eyes darted around the dim room—overturned furniture, shattered glass, bodies sprawled on the floor. The nearest attacker wore a tactical vest. She crawled toward him, rifling through the pockets.
A syringe. A pouch of gauze. Zip ties. A small metallic device she didn't recognize.
But no phone. No ID.
Nothing that could explain why they wanted her dead.
"Ten minutes until entry."
Her heart jolted. Time. She didn't have time.
She rushed back to Damon, ripping open the gauze with her teeth.
"Damon, listen to me," she whispered fiercely as she wrapped his wound. "You said you would protect me. Now I need to protect you."
His lashes flickered. Not enough.
She stared at the strange device she'd stolen from the attacker's vest. It was small, black, no buttons—just a fingerprint pad.
"What are you?" she muttered.
Her finger brushed it by accident.
A holographic screen blinked alive—glowing faint blue.
Elisa gasped.
It displayed:
TARGET ACQUIRED — HART, ELISA
Then—
MISSION OBJECTIVE: TERMINATE BEFORE MEMORY RECALL
STATUS: FAILED — SECOND ATTEMPT INITIATED
Her blood turned to ice.
"Terminate?" she whispered, horrified. "Because of… memory recall?"
What memory?!
She grabbed Damon, shaking him again. "Damon, what memories? What did I forget?! Please!"
His breathing hitched—but no answer.
The screen suddenly flickered—
NEW DIRECTIVE: OBTAIN LIVE SUBJECT IF ELIMINATION FAILS
Elisa's throat closed.
They didn't just want her dead anymore.
They wanted her captured.
Her hands went numb. She dropped the device. It clattered to the floor.
She had to move. Now.
She hooked an arm under Damon's, trying to lift him. He was too heavy—pure muscle and dead weight.
"Come on," she grunted. "I'm not leaving you."
She managed to get him halfway upright—but his knees buckled, dragging them both to the floor.
Tears burned her eyes. "Damon, help me. Please help me help you."
His eyes suddenly snapped open—wild, unfocused. He grabbed her wrist with startling strength.
"Elisa," he rasped, voice shredded. "Run."
She shook her head violently. "No."
"You have to." His grip tightened painfully. "If they take you—"
"Then don't let them!" Her voice cracked. "You promised."
His expression changed. Something dangerous and primal ignited in his eyes.
As if the simple reminder of her gave him something worth fighting hell itself for.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his legs beneath him. The effort ripped a groan from his chest, but he rose—shaking, bleeding, furious.
She braced his side, staring up at him. "Good. Stay with me."
His eyes scanned the room. "Armory. Down the hall."
Her heart stuttered. "Armory?!"
He met her gaze. "Later."
He staggered forward, using the wall for balance.
She moved with him. Step by step. Breath by breath.
________________________________________
The Hall of Shadows
The hallway was pitch-black except for the emergency lights blinking red—like the heartbeat of something monstrous crawling closer.
Damon's breath was ragged. He winced with every step, but he never let go of her.
"What did they mean by memory recall?" she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "Not now."
"Yes now," she argued, voice shaking. "If I'm risking everything for you, I deserve to know why they want me dead!"
He stopped, gripping her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"You once knew something," he said slowly. "Something powerful. Something dangerous."
"Then why don't I remember it?"
"Because someone stole those memories from you."
Her stomach dropped. "Who?"
He looked away. "That's the part I hoped you'd never learn."
A lump formed in her throat. "It was… you?"
His silence was answer enough.
Elisa staggered back, hands shaking. The floor felt like it tilted beneath her.
"You erased my memories?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Damon… why?"
"Because you begged me to," he said, chest heaving. "Because the secrets you knew were killing you. You said you'd rather forget than watch everyone you care about die."
Her breath caught—half sob, half denial.
"You're lying."
His voice softened, breaking on the edges. "I wish I were."
Tears spilled from her eyes. "I don't understand…"
"You will."
He leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers like he had before—but now it was an apology.
"The truth always finds its way back," he whispered.
Red lights flashed brighter.
"Seven minutes until entry."
Elisa wiped her tears violently. "Then we survive long enough for me to know everything."
Damon stared at her—pride and fear tangled in his gaze.
"Yes," he said. "We do."
________________________________________
The Armory
They reached a reinforced steel door. Damon punched in a code with trembling fingers. The lock clicked open—and Elisa's breath disappeared.
Weapons lined the walls. Rifles. Knives. Tactical gear. Medical kits. Armor plating.
This was not the home of a simple security specialist.
Damon grabbed a handgun, loading a clip with automatic ease. Blood dripped down his arm, but his hands never wavered.
Elisa rushed to the medical shelf and grabbed gauze pads and a coagulant injector.
"Sit," she ordered.
He looked at her with surprise—but obeyed.
She knelt between his legs, tearing away the blood-soaked bandage. The wound was worse than she feared—deep and jagged.
"You should be unconscious," she whispered.
He brushed a tear from her cheek. "You kept me awake."
Her chest constricted.
She cleaned the wound, applied the coagulant, and wrapped him tightly. Damon hissed in pain but didn't pull away—his eyes locked on hers, unblinking.
"Elisa…" His voice dropped, hoarse. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" she whispered.
"For everything."
His hand slid into her hair, thumb grazing the back of her neck. The moment burned—intimate, fragile.
He leaned forward, lips inches from hers—
BOOM.
The entire building shook. Dust rained from the ceiling.
Elisa flinched into his chest. Damon wrapped his arms around her, shielding her.
"Six minutes."
"Time to go," he said, voice back to steel.
He stood, wincing, and strapped a compact rifle to his back.
"Elisa—stay directly behind me. If I fall—"
"You won't," she cut in.
His lips curved—a fierce, dark smirk.
"That's my girl."
Heat rushed through her—but fear snapped her back to focus.
"What's the plan?" she asked.
He handed her a smaller gun. "We don't let them take you."
She swallowed, gripping the weapon tight.
Then Damon opened the door.
________________________________________
Final Threat
The hallway was filled with smoke and chaos. The lights flickered, alarms screamed, and the ground quaked from approaching boots.
Damon pulled her close, his breath hot at her ear.
"No matter what happens—don't leave me."
She nodded once. "Promise."
His eyes burned with something primal and possessive—something that claimed her.
"Good." He lifted his weapon. "Because if they want you…"
His voice turned lethal.
"…they have to go through me."
A group of armed figures stormed into view—
Damon fired first.
________________________________________
Cliffhanger End – Chapter 14
Assassins closing in.
Elisa holding a gun for the first time.
Damon bleeding, but unbreakable.
Secrets unraveling.
And Elisa Hart is far from ordinary.