Seven Days Of Redemption

The concrete walls of Sector 7 trembled.

Wind howled through the broken windows of the abandoned warehouse, but inside it, silence settled like fog. Elena lay on the cold floor, her pulse hammering, her breathing uneven. Her ankle still throbbed from the fall during her escape, but she refused to cry. There was no one left to hear her anyway—no one except for the shadows.

And something was moving in them.

She backed up slowly, dragging herself with her elbows toward the wall, eyes searching the darkness.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Heavy footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate. Not Lucien. Not the Syndicate.

This was different.

Out of the shadows emerged a towering figure. At least eight feet tall, he stood like a human carved from steel and rage. His skin bore the faint lines of sutures, pale and almost colorless under the flickering light. Muscles rippled beneath a sleeveless black coat, and his eyes—one silver, one blood-red—locked onto Elena.

She didn't scream. She couldn't. Her throat was dry with confusion and fear.

"…Who… are you?" she whispered.

The figure didn't answer. He tilted his head as though analyzing her, like a scientist might study a strange insect.

Then, he spoke.

Not with malice. Not with warmth. Just… clarity.

"Target identified. Orders: Secure. Status: Do not harm—unless provoked."

Elena's brows furrowed. Orders? From who?

"Wait—who sent you? Why are you—?"

He stepped forward, and in one clean, controlled motion, hoisted her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed now, punching his back, but it was like striking a statue. Her fists had no effect.

"Put me down! Please! I didn't do anything—why are you taking me?!"

The giant paused. For a moment, he looked… unsure. A slight twitch in his jaw. Then his voice dropped.

"Orders come from the Architect."

That name.

Elena froze.

She had heard it once, whispered in fear by one of the Syndicate members Aiden interrogated. The Architect—the one Lucien answered to. The real mastermind behind everything. The one who wanted her dead… or worse.

"Why does he want me?" she asked, more to herself than him.

The man—no, the weapon—didn't answer. He turned and began walking away, leaving the warehouse behind.

---

Meanwhile, not far from Sector 7, Aiden stood over the crumpled body of a Syndicate scout. Blood stained his fists. He didn't care anymore about hiding or planning.

He was done running.

"Elena," he growled. "I'm coming."

Each step he took echoed with rage. Not blind rage—controlled, ice-cold fury. The kind that made men dangerous.

He had tracked Elena's last known location to this zone. The clues were vague, scattered… but the presence of fresh Syndicate corpses told him enough.

Lucien was closing in. But someone else had gotten there first.

When he arrived at the warehouse, the air felt wrong—emptier than it should. The windows were shattered. The floor bore scuff marks and impressions—signs of a struggle. Aiden's eyes scanned them like a hunter reading broken branches in the forest.

She had been here. So had someone big.

And strong.

He clenched his jaw. "Damn it."

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows—Lucien.

Aiden froze, fists ready, heart pounding. "You again."

Lucien smirked, limping slightly from their last encounter. "We keep running into each other, don't we?"

"Where is she?"

Lucien tilted his head. "I thought you took her."

That stopped Aiden cold.

"What?"

Lucien's smile faded. "Someone got to her before I did. And it wasn't you. Which means…"

They both realized it at the same time.

"The Architect made his move."

Aiden's blood ran cold.

Lucien continued, his voice unusually serious. "He sent the prototype. The last creation—the one we never saw in full form."

Aiden narrowed his eyes. "You're scared of it."

Lucien didn't deny it. "I should be. You should be too. He's not like us. He's not even human."

Aiden didn't wait for more. He turned and stormed out of the warehouse. Rage surged in his chest—but beneath it, fear. Not fear for himself.

Fear for Elena.

---

As the sky turned gray, Elena remained slung over the giant's shoulder, exhausted from struggling. They were now far from the city. She didn't recognize the road—no signs, no lights. Just trees and cracked concrete.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked again, her voice softer now.

The giant didn't answer, but his pace slowed.

She noticed something strange. His breathing—it was human. Rough, inconsistent. Not mechanical.

"You're… not a machine."

He paused. A beat passed.

"No. I am... a mistake."

Elena's heart ached at the way he said it. Like a child confessing guilt.

"You don't have to do what they say," she whispered.

Another pause. Then:

"I do. Or they'll destroy me."

Elena looked up at him. "So you're afraid, too."

He didn't respond.

---

Back in the city, Aiden stood on a rooftop, watching the roads below with binoculars stolen from a Syndicate base. He finally spotted something—a black vehicle, barely visible in the morning mist, moving alone on an abandoned road.

There was no smoke. No explosions. No chaos.

But his gut told him.

She's in there.

He gripped the edge of the rooftop, his knuckles white.

"I'll find you, Elena," he muttered. "Even if I have to rip apart the Architect's world to do it."

To be continue...