Elijah didn't bother knocking.
He slammed into the abandoned building, breath ragged, heart thundering as he followed the coordinates the anonymous text had given him.
He didn't care if it was a trap.
He didn't care if someone was waiting to kill him.
He only wanted one thing back—
Lucy.
His little girl.
The moment he stepped inside, the heavy door shut behind him with a metallic clang.
Then—
A speaker crackled to life overhead.
A woman's voice...smooth, taunting, disturbingly calm filled the hallway.
"Elijah Creed… take out the gun you have hidden on you."
Elijah froze.
"I don't have a gun!" he shouted back, jaw clenched.
A soft, feminine laugh drifted from the speakers. It echoed down the hallway, prickling every hair on his skin.
"Lying isn't very fatherly."
Then—
A tiny voice.
High, sweet, unmistakable.
"Daddy?"
Elijah's knees nearly buckled.
"Lucy?" he breathed. "Lulu, baby—?!"
He tore open his coat and threw the pistol on the ground so fast it skidded across the floor.
"GOOD," the woman's voice purred. "Now keep walking. Straight ahead."
He moved. Fast. Almost running.
Another metal door slid open.
He stepped into a dim room, the kind used for police interrogations.
But this one was inverted.
A one-way glass wall stood in front of him.
And on the other side of the glass—
Lucy.
Sitting in a small chair.
Kicking her legs back and forth.
Holding a bottle of water.
And humming.
Elijah slammed his palms into the glass.
"LUCY! LUCY! BABY, LOOK AT ME! LUCY!"
Nothing.
She couldn't see him.
Couldn't hear him.
The glass swallowed every sound.
His fists pounded until the skin bruised and blood smeared the surface.
Then—
The door behind him clicked.
Elijah spun.
She entered like a shadow.
Small. Petite. Pretty face cold as stone.
White hair glowing faintly under the fluorescent lights.
Elena.
She shut the door with a lazy flick of her wrist.
"She can't hear you," she said softly. "No matter how hard you scream."
Elijah's jaw tightened as he studied her.
He could break her neck in seconds.
Unless she wasn't alone.
Unless she had a partner hiding somewhere.
Her lips curved.
"You're wondering if you can take me," she said. "Men always do."
He flinched. She had read him perfectly.
"Who are you?" he growled. "What the hell do you want?"
Elena let out a bored sigh.
"I'm going to ask you the same question I asked your partner. Do you remember the 14th of May, ten years ago?"
Elijah frowned. "No. I don't remember."
Her eyes narrowed into pits of rage.
"I remember," she whispered. "Like it was yesterday."
His patience snapped.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"
Elena stepped closer, eyes burning.
"I'm the angel of death," she said in a chilling monotone.
"And I'm here for my revenge."
Elijah finally lost control.
He surged forward, towering over her—
massive shoulders
thick arms
a long jagged scar running down his face.
He was built to intimidate.
Trained to kill.
But Elena didn't move.
She didn't even blink.
Instead, she smiled—a slow, cruel, devastating smile.
"Your daughter and I had a lot of fun today," she murmured. "She ate so many ice cream scoops."
Elijah froze mid-step.
"Ice cream?" he breathed.
"Oh yes." Her tone brightened like she was discussing birthday parties. "Those scoops contained Doxalyte-9."
His heart stopped.
"That chemical is pretty dormant in the body," she explained casually. "Harmless on its own."
She pointed to the glass wall behind him.
"But if we add Serenyl Fluid, the two react… violently."
Elijah's entire world tilted.
Lucy sat on the other side, holding her little water bottle.
"And all she has to do," Elena continued, "is drink the water in front of her when the timer reaches zero."
Elijah whipped his head around.
A small digital timer blinked red above Lucy's head.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
"I told her it was a fun game," Elena said and Elijah's chest caved in.
"Please," he whispered, voice breaking for the first time in years. "Please tell me you're lying."
"I'm not," Elena said.
And he knew, instantly, horribly....
She wasn't.
His breath came in harsh, broken gasps.
30 seconds ago he was yelling.
20 seconds ago he was threatening her.
Now—
He was begging the universe to stop time.
His eyes stayed locked on the red-lit timer blinking above the one-way glass.
Two minutes and fifty nine seconds.
"You basically have three minutes to answer my questions," Elena said, stepping in front of him. Her tone was pleasant. Cheerful. Deadly.
"And I might consider stopping the timer… so little Lucy won't drink from her bottle."
Elijah's stomach lurched.
She held up the remote.
Pressed a button.
The speaker in Lucy's room crackled softly—confirming she could send commands instantly.
"Don't bother trying anything funny," she continued. "I'm the only one with access to her room."
Elijah's chest heaved.
His hands shook.
His knees felt weak.
"What do you want to know?" he rasped, voice cracking as he stared wildly between Elena, the timer, and Lucy.
Elena stepped closer, her cold eyes drilling into him.
"Who sent you to kill my parents."
Elijah blinked, confused—horrified. "What?"
"May 14th. Ten years ago." Her voice sharpened. "You broke into a home, assaulted my mother, and killed my father. You and your partner. Do you remember now?"
The memory hit him like a sledgehammer.
"Yes—yes—God, I'm so sorry—" he stuttered. "I left that life behind, please—please—"
"Who sent you?!" she snapped.
"I don't know!!"
Elena's gaze flicked to the timer.
Two minutes and three seconds.
The sound of each second made Elijah flinch violently.
"Time is ticking, Mr. Creed," she said coolly.
"It wasn't face-to-face!" he blurted. "Not a call either! The message for the hit came in a small silver box!"
Elena leaned in. "Who was the sender?"
"It was signed Armstrong," he said, breathing hard. "The insignia—no one can replicate it."
Her expression twisted.
"Armstrong?"
"One of the most powerful families in the world," he said desperately. "More than powerful. I've killed for them before."
One minute twenty two seconds.
"Are you certain?" she asked.
"More than certain," he pleaded. "Please, please stop the timer."
One minute left.
Elijah's pulse was a roar in his ears.
His throat was tight.
His vision was tunneling.
Elena tilted her head with a soft, terrible smile.
"One last question."
Elijah swallowed.
"Who assaulted my mother? Your partner told me it was you."
His entire body went cold.
He stared at the timer, mouth trembling—too terrified to breathe.
But then—
CLICK.
Elena pressed a small silver device.
The timer froze.
Fifty five seconds.
Silence.
"Dear little Lucy is safe," Elena whispered. "Now answer my question."
Elijah exhaled sharply—relief and shame clawing through him.
"It was me," he admitted in a broken voice. "I'm the one who did it. And God—God forgive me—I can't ever undo it. I live with it every single day."
Elena's smile returned. "Thank you for telling me the truth."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the remote—the one linked to the speakers in Lucy's room.
Elijah stepped forward in panic. "What are you doing?!"
She pressed the button.
Her voice slid through the speakers like a blade:
"Lucy, darling… why don't you take a little sip of your water?"
Elijah's scream tore out of his throat too late—
On the other side of the glass, Lucy raised the bottle.
Tilted it back.
And began to drink.
Elijah's heart stopped.
For a full second, he couldn't breathe—couldn't think—couldn't move.
He watched as Lucy's small throat worked as she swallowed the water.
"NO!" he roared, hurling himself at the glass.
His fists hammered against it over and over, bones cracking on impact. "LUCY! BABY! SPIT IT OUT! SPIT IT OUT!"
But she couldn't hear him.
Lucy blinked, confused, rubbing her throat. Her breathing hitched. She coughed, a tiny fragile sound.
Elijah lost himself.
He slammed his shoulder into the glass, again and again, screaming her name until his voice shredded.
"LUCY! PLEASE—PLEASE, SWEETHEART—LOOK AT ME—LOOK AT ME!"
She couldn't.
She gasped weakly, the bottle slipping from her fingers.
Elijah's hands slid down the glass, his forehead pressed to it, breath fogging the surface.
"Please… please, please, baby…"
Her little body sagged sideways in the chair.
Her legs stopped kicking.
Her eyes closed.
"Lucy," he choked, collapsing to his knees. "No—no—NO—"
But the room was silent except for his raw, broken sobbing.
Elena stepped beside him, hands clasped behind her back. She tilted her head, studying Elijah's ruined expression with a thoughtful calm—almost academic.
"Too bad," she murmured lightly. "I actually liked little Lucy."
Elijah didn't respond.
Couldn't.
He was staring through the glass as if staring hard enough would wake his daughter up. As if he could will breath back into her chest.
He whispered something—barely sound.
"Kill me."
His voice cracked.
"Please… just kill me."
Elena smiled.
"Oh, Elijah," she said, almost affectionately. "Don't be dramatic."
He lifted his head, eyes red and empty.
"I'm not killing you," she said. "I'm satisfied."
Her tone brightened—sweet, cruel, horrifying.
"You're going to sit here and feel every ounce of the pain I felt. You're going to understand what it means to lose someone you love."
Elijah trembled.
"You'll have enough food and water for a month." She gestured to a cabinet. "I planned ahead."
She walked toward the door, heels clicking.
But she paused before leaving, placing something on the floor.
A gun.
A single bullet beside it.
"Just in case," she said with a shrug. "If you want to end it yourself."
Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
"I was very satisfied today."
And she left him there—
kneeling beside the glass,
staring at his daughter,
unable to scream anymore.