Kara's heart hammered as the torchlight revealed a tall, familiar silhouette crouched by the water's edge. Rain dripped in slow rivulets off the concrete arch, pooling in shallow puddles around her feet.
"Kara…" came the soft, ragged whisper again.
She stumbled forward, every nerve screaming with relief and dread. "Ethan?" she called, voice cracking.
The figure straightened slowly. Moonlight glinted off the damp hair that fell over his face. Kara's breath caught—it was him. Her brother, alive, but gaunt and shivering, his shirt clinging to bruised arms.
"E," she gasped, rushing to his side. "You're here. Oh God, thank—
Before she could reach him, a hand shot out from the darkness behind Ethan and clamped over his mouth, cutting him off with a muffled gasp.
Kara froze, panic snapping her limbs rigid. She whipped around. In the shadows, the kidnapper stepped into the half-light—a tall man in a soaked trench coat, face still obscured by a hood. One pale hand held a knife low at his side; the other pressed Ethan's shoulder into the wet concrete.
"Don't come any closer," the man said, voice cold, flattening the damp air between them. "Or I swear I'll—"
"Let him go," Kara snarled, venom sharpening her words as she dropped the flashlight and kicked it aside. Its beam spun crazily, illuminating the panicked terror in Ethan's eyes.
The kidnapper's head tilted, amused. "So, this is the great Kara Steele. Angry, broken—but your brother…" He sneered toward Ethan. "Your precious brother—he's scared, isn't he?"
Kara's chest constricted. Rage and fear warred inside her. She stepped forward, fists clenched. "Whatever you want—"
"I want you to see him suffer before I decide his fate," the man interrupted softly, pulling Ethan upright. "After everything you've done—your cruelty, your rage—now it's your turn to plead." He pressed the knife's tip against Ethan's throat, slow and deliberate. "Kneel."
Ethan's trembling knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, head bowed. Kara's knees trembled too, but she remained standing. Her gaze flicked to the knife, then to her brother's terrified face.
"Please," she whispered, a single word that held every ounce of regret and desperation she'd ever felt.
The kidnapper cocked his head. "That's all I needed to hear." He stepped back, the knife sliding away from Ethan's throat but still glinting ominously in his hand. "Now, Kara—get on your knees next to him. If you don't, this ends badly for both of you."
Thunder rumbled overhead as the flashlight's beam finally died, plunging them into darkness. Kara's world narrowed to the faint sound of Ethan's ragged breath and the steady drip of water from the arch above.
She swallowed, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll kneel."
Slowly, Kara lowered herself, every drop of rain stinging her skin, every memory of her past failures echoing in her mind. As her knees hit the cold concrete beside Ethan's, she looked up at the stranger, at the knife, at the injustice of the moment—and realized that this was the crucible that would either break her or forge her anew.
Behind the lean silhouette of the kidnapper, a final flash of steel glinted in the gloom: not the blade in his hand, but something clipped to his belt—Alden's distinctive family crest.
Kara's breath caught again.
This was never random.
Her eyes locked onto the emblem as the man's hooded head dipped in acknowledgement, and she understood with chilling clarity: the secrets she'd buried ran deeper than she could ever have imagined—and now, they were all about to come to light.
She dared a glance at Ethan, tears mixing with rain on her cheeks, and whispered, "I'm here. I won't let him hurt you."
The kidnapper's grin was dark as the black waters beneath the bridge. "We'll see about that."
Kara's fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms, the pain sharp and real, grounding her in the cold reality of her situation. She had always been used to the weight of loneliness, but this… this was different. The isolation felt like a physical presence, suffocating her from every angle.
No one wanted her. No one understood her. Not even Ethan—the one person who had always been by her side—had walked away. The thought made her stomach churn, her insides roiling with a fury she couldn't control.
She hadn't expected Ethan to leave her. She had thought, after everything, that he would be the one person who would stick by her, who would understand her rage, her pain. They were survivors, bound by the trauma they had shared, by the life they had struggled through together. Yet here he was, gone, leaving her alone with nothing but her demons.
Her head buzzed with an overwhelming need to act—to do something, anything, to make them see her, to make them care. Her entire life had been a series of reckless decisions, impulsive outbursts, and relationships that crumbled under the weight of her anger. And now, even Ethan, her brother, had abandoned her.
Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. She turned, pacing the room in tight circles, her mind spinning faster than her feet. The room was oppressive, the walls closing in on her. Nothing felt real. Everything felt like a blur of lost opportunities and broken bonds.
Why hadn't anyone been there for her? She had tried. She had tried so damn hard to change, to be better, but it was never enough. The scars of her past haunted her like ghosts that wouldn't let go, and every time she tried to break free, they dragged her back into the darkness.
She slammed her fist against the wall, feeling the sting of the impact shoot through her arm, but it didn't even begin to ease the fury rising within her. She needed to do something. Anything. She couldn't be this broken anymore.
Kara's gaze flicked to the window, the streets below a blur of headlights and shadows, the world oblivious to the storm raging inside her. A part of her wanted to scream, to lash out, to make everyone feel what she was feeling. She wanted them to see her pain, her frustration, her desperation.
The thought of Alden's pity still burned like acid in her chest. The way he had looked at her, the way his eyes had softened in disappointment. She didn't want his pity. She wanted respect. She wanted someone to look at her and see strength, not weakness.
A flash of movement caught her eye—the old lady, the one who had served them at the club, had tried to help her before the anger had overtaken her. She had wanted to protect the girl from being humiliated, but Kara had thrown her to the ground instead. That memory twisted the knife deeper in her chest. She hated that feeling—the feeling of being pitied, the feeling of being looked down upon.
Kara snapped her head back toward the door, a plan forming in her mind like a storm. She would show them all. She would make them understand that she wasn't weak. She wasn't broken.
With a swift motion, she grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, her mind made up. She wouldn't let anyone see her as a victim anymore. She would be in control again. She would make them respect her, even if she had to burn everything to the ground to get it.
Her thoughts were dark, filled with rage and a desperate need for revenge. She didn't care who stood in her way anymore. Alden, Ethan, everyone who had turned their backs on her—none of them mattered.