Isabel's POV

Saturday night. The sky is dark, and the streets are quiet. I'm finally heading home after a long day of discussing wedding themes and arrangements with the planners. I never thought wedding preparations could be this exhausting. And with Damien being so busy lately, I've had to handle most of it alone. We barely see each other except during dinner or on brief phone calls.

I understand, though. He's working hard to clear his schedule before our wedding—only four days away. Just four days until my dream finally comes true. My heart swells with anticipation at the thought.

As I make my way toward the main road to catch a bus, an eerie silence settles around me. A dark alley stretches ahead, its narrow path disappearing into the shadows. A chill runs down my spine. Something about it feels... off. I hesitate, gripping my phone tightly. Why didn't I come with Mom and Dad?

I shake the thought away. It's just a shortcut. The sooner I get through it, the sooner I'll be home. Taking a deep breath, I step forward.

The dim glow of a flickering streetlight barely illuminates the path. My footsteps echo against the cold pavement, and I tighten my grip on my phone. Just in case, I had already shared my location with my parents. Better safe than sorry.

Then, I hear it.

A sharp cry—pained, desperate.

I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as another sound follows—fists slamming against flesh, a sickening crunch echoing in the still night. Instinct takes over, and I quickly duck behind the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Peeking cautiously, I see a group of men surrounding someone. They are ruthless, their punches unrelenting. The man on the ground groans in agony, barely able to shield himself from the assault.

At first, I think it's just a street fight—maybe some gang dispute or a drunken brawl. My initial fear eases slightly. Maybe I should record this. It could help the police later.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone. I quickly silence it, mute all notifications, and hit record. My gut twists with unease, but I tell myself it's the right thing to do. Just a quick video, and then I'll leave.

Then, everything changes.

A new presence enters the alley. The men immediately stop, standing straighter as if called to attention. The air shifts, thick with tension. Their boss has arrived.

He steps into the dim light, his stance authoritative. The others murmur with respect. I can't see his face clearly, but his voice is low, sharp. He speaks to the wounded man, questioning him, but I'm too far away to hear the words.

Then—without warning—he raises his gun.

A deafening gunshot rings through the alley.

I flinch violently, my body going rigid. The man on the ground lets out a bloodcurdling scream, clutching his leg. He writhes in agony, his pain raw, unbearable.

My heart stops. My grip tightens around my phone as dread seeps into my bones. This isn't just a street fight. This is something far worse.

Panic surges through me. What have I done?

I had thought I was just recording a fight, but now I had unknowingly dragged myself into something dangerous. I should have never pulled out my phone. I should have just walked away.

The man with the gun steps forward, his face barely visible under the dim glow. But something about him—the way he stands, the way he carries himself—it feels familiar.

My breath stutters.

No.

It can't be.

I strain my eyes, desperate to make sense of the blurry figure before me. And then—just for a fleeting second—the light hits his face.

My heart stops.

Everything around me fades into silence. The world tilts, threatening to pull me under.

Because standing there, gun in hand, is Damien.

Before I could process anything, Damien raised the gun again.

Another deafening shot rang through the alley.

The man collapsed. Lifeless.

I froze. My mind refused to comprehend what had just happened. Was I dreaming? Please, let this be a nightmare. But it wasn't.

Blood pooled around the body, staining the cold pavement in thick, crimson rivers. The metallic scent hit me, making my stomach twist violently. My hands trembled, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

And then—my phone slipped from my grasp.

The dull thud of it hitting the ground echoed through the silence, shattering the moment.

My heart stopped.

All heads snapped toward the sound. Toward the wall. Toward me.

Did they see me?

Maybe the phone was just visible. Or maybe... they saw me too.

My pulse pounded in my ears as terror gripped me. What do I do? Should I run? Grab my phone? Stay hidden? Every second stretched unbearably, my mind screaming for a way out.

No—don't just stand here.

For a split second, I considered leaving the phone and running. But—No. I couldn't. Not when it held the video. Not when it was my only chance of proving what I had seen.

And... the GPS.

If something happened to me, at least my parents would know my last location.

Swallowing my fear, I lunged forward and snatched the phone from the ground. My fingers fumbled as I unlocked it, my hands slick with sweat. I had to do something—fast. My only chance was to send the video to someone trustworthy. Someone who could help if something happened to me.

Mom. Dad.

I hit send.

Then I ran.

The sound of footsteps followed. At first, heavy and fast—chasing me. But then, they faded. I didn't dare slow down. Fear fueled my every step as I pushed forward, lungs burning, legs aching, heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum.

I glanced at my screen. The message was sent. The video was out.

But before relief could settle, I crashed into something solid.

Someone.

Strong hands caught my arms, steadying me as I stumbled back.

My breath hitched. My throat went dry.

I looked up.

And my heart dropped.

It was Damien.

I took a step back. He took a step forward.

Panic surged through me as I turned to run, but before I could move, his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist. The only thing that ran through my mind was -

............I am DOOMED.............