Whisper in the dark

Mia's boots skidded on the loose gravel as Alex dragged her back toward the abandoned station. The crunch of broken glass and rusted metal underfoot echoed through the hollow structure, masking whatever it was they were running from — or toward.

"Alex, stop! What did you see?" she demanded, breathless, half-running to keep up with his longer strides.

"Not here," he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. His grip on her hand was tight, almost painful. "Keep moving."

The once-romantic ruin felt different now. The graffiti-covered walls seemed to lean in, swallowing the faint twilight. The broken tracks that had looked poetic under the fading sun now felt like traps waiting to trip her up.

They ducked under a rusted beam, Alex pulling her into what used to be the station's waiting room. Broken benches lay scattered among old ticket booths, the smell of damp wood and rust thick in the stale air. Alex stopped at an alcove half-hidden behind what remained of a crumbling wall.

He let go of her hand, pressed a finger to his lips. "Stay quiet."

Mia's heart thundered in her ears. She pressed her back against the cold brick, trying to catch her breath. She could hear the wind outside, the distant creak of metal — and something else. Footsteps? Or just her heartbeat echoing in the hollow station?

Alex peeked around the corner. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight. He looked like someone she didn't know. Someone who didn't belong at art galleries or behind a camera lens.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Alex, what's going on? Who's out there?"

He turned to her, eyes darting toward the entrance. "It's nothing. Just— wrong place, wrong time. We'll leave in a second."

She shook her head. "Don't lie to me. You said there were no ghosts tonight. So what is this? Who's following us?"

A flicker of something crossed his face — regret, maybe, or fear. But before he could answer, a voice called out from somewhere in the shadows of the main hall.

"Alex! Come on, man. We know you're here."

Mia flinched. The voice was casual, almost amused — but it twisted the pit of her stomach into knots. Alex cursed under his breath.

Mia grabbed his arm. "Who are they? What do they want?"

He looked at her then — really looked — and for a moment, the mask slipped. She saw the fear there, buried under layers of forced calm.

"Trust me, Mia. Please. I'll explain everything — just not here."

The voice called again, closer now. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Alex! Bring her out. We just want to talk."

Mia's blood went cold. Bring her out. She wasn't just a bystander. She was part of this now, whether she understood it or not.

"Alex—" she started, but he pressed a finger to her lips. She could feel his pulse racing through the tip of his finger.

"Stay here," he whispered. "No matter what you hear — do not come out. Promise me."

She shook her head violently. "No. You can't just—"

But he was already pulling away, slipping around the corner before she could grab him back. She heard his footsteps crunch across the debris-littered floor, then his voice, calm and cool, like he hadn't just dragged her through the dark.

"All right, I'm here," he called out. "Leave her out of this."

Mia pressed herself deeper into the alcove, fighting the rising panic clawing at her chest. She could barely see them through the crack in the wall — two figures, shadows against the fading light spilling through broken windows. One tall, broad-shouldered, his stance casual like he owned the place. The other lingered behind him, hands shoved into his coat pockets.

"You know how this works, Alex," the taller man said. His tone was friendly, but the way he moved closer made Mia's stomach twist. "You don't get to just walk away."

Alex stood his ground. "She has nothing to do with this."

The man laughed softly. "Doesn't look that way from where I'm standing. Cute girl. Brave, too."

Mia's nails dug into her palms. Every nerve screamed at her to run, but her legs wouldn't move.

The taller man stepped closer to Alex, lowering his voice. Mia strained to hear. "… don't play games. You owe us. You know what happens if you screw this up."

Alex's reply was too low for her to catch, but she heard the man's answer clear as glass.

"Then maybe she pays instead."

A cold fist of dread punched the air from her lungs. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

Alex's voice cut through the hollow room — louder now, angry. "Touch her and I swear—"

The man cut him off with a laugh. "Relax, lover boy. Just a friendly reminder."

Something clattered — metal on concrete. A bag, maybe. The shorter man behind the leader tossed it at Alex's feet.

"One last job, Alex. Or next time, we don't knock."

Mia could see Alex's shoulders tense as he bent to pick up whatever they'd thrown. He didn't argue this time. Didn't fight back.

A moment later, the two strangers turned and disappeared into the gloom of the station's broken doors. Their footsteps faded, swallowed by the wind and the creaking ruins.

Alex stood alone for a beat, staring at the bag in his hands like it was something alive. Then he turned — his eyes finding the alcove where she hid, even though she hadn't moved.

He didn't smile. He didn't try to explain.

He just said, voice raw and low, "I'm sorry, Mia. I didn't want you to know."

Mia stepped out, heart hammering. The station around them seemed to breathe, old shadows shifting closer.

And in that moment, she realized the whisper in the dark was no longer just a secret — it was a threat.