They heard the rattle of a gate and the sounds of footsteps, distant but unnerving.


    We have to go," Elsbeth whispered, her voice tight with fear. Her eyes darted toward the shadows beyond the gate. I think someone''s coming."


    Cordelia nodded, turning to Henry. "We have to go. Keep your faith. I promise we’re doing everything we can."


    “Go, go. I’ll be fine.”


    She smiled, then slipping the stone beneath her tongue, they vanished into shadow, quietly closing the cell gate behind them.


    Footsteps echoed—more than one pair. Voices, low and deliberate, approaching.


    Cordelia''s mind raced. This wasn’t a patrol. Too quiet. Purposeful.


    Elsbeth pressed against the wall beside her, breath held, every nerve taut.


    Three figures emerged from the gloom, moving confidently. Cordelia''s eyes locked onto the leader, confident the man was not a keeper. What was happening?


    They stopped at Henry''s cell, the man in question within arms reach. She grasped Elsbeth’s arm, keeping her touch light to avoid frightening her. Holding her breath, she moved, taking one silent step to her left so they would be outside his peripheral vision.


    A second man lit a torch, casting flickering light across the corridor. Cordelia''s breath caught.


    The third man, standing between them, looked like Henry Wright. Similar build, hair, clothing—not identical, but close enough to fool casual inspection. Her heart lurched.


    They''re here for a switch.


    <hr>


    "Your job is to take his place," one man muttered. "When we have the answers we need, we''ll undo the switch, and you''ll be a wealthy man."


    Elsbeth''s hands cover her mouth, panic flaring in her eyes. Cordelia''s thoughts raced. John Ashcombe. He needed Henry—alive. To finish the serum. This wasn’t a rescue. It was a kidnapping.


    The cell door creaked open. The men paused, staring at Henry’s bruised face.


    "This won’t do," one man growled. "Sorry about this, guvna."


    They seized the lookalike. The first blow landed with a sickening thud, followed by a muffled groan. Another punch, and another, each more brutal than the last.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Cordelia could feel Elsbeth trembling, her body tensing with the urge to flee. That was the last thing they needed, but she could do nothing about it now.


    Henry Wright’s stand-in tried to shield himself, but there was no mercy in their hands. Then came a sharp crack—bone against stone. Silence.


    A low groan escaped from beneath Elsbeth''s hands. Cordelia cringed, expecting discovery, but neither man reacted.


    One of the men nudged the motionless body with his boot. No response. Another nudge. Nothing.


    “Christ,” the second man breathed, his voice strained with panic. “You’ve killed him. You bloody idiot—this wasn’t the plan.”


    The other shrugged. "Solves a lot of problems if you ask me. We get our man out of here, and those sleeping guards will end up holding the bag."


    “Well then, we can’t leave it looking like this,” the other man whispered sharply. “Bring me one of those guard’s truncheons. I’ll him a few more bruises., and we’ll leave it beside him—they’ll think the bastards beat him to death.”


    Elsbeth had already slid to the floor, distraught. She shimmied away in fear when the man left the cell to hurry down the hall. The sound caught the remaining man’s attention, but his glance filled Cordelia with relief as he turned back to Henry.


    “You’ll be coming with us. It seems you''re useful to someone, someone willing to pay,” he said to Henry.


    Then he grabbed Henry from the cot and dragged him into the hallway. Henry could not resist and struggled to keep his feet under the man’s grip.


    “When we take you out of here, you''ll go nice and quiet. Otherwise, I’ll be breaking both your arms. You understand?”


    They heard Henry murmur that he understood.


    The man returned with the truncheon, expecting the other man to finish the job he had started.


    The man holding Henry growled. “Go on then. Give him a few good whacks, and then drop it in the blood. We need to be on our way.“


    They heard soft thuds against flesh, the truncheon dropping to the floor soon after.


    Henry, now gagged, was dragged down the hall, and as the light of the torch faded, she took a large breath, adrenaline fading with each receding footstep.


    <hr>


    For a moment, they sat in silence. Stunned.


    Cordelia moved, heart still pounding. In their haste, the men had left the door ajar. She slipped into the cell where The man lay prone. He was dead, and there was nothing they could do for him.


    Cordelia felt her throat tighten as she stared at the dead man. He’d been nothing more than a pawn, unaware that his greed would cost him everything. Another life was reduced to collateral damage.


    Elsbeth’s heart sank. Everything had gone disastrously wrong. It had been a simple plan—get in, get answers, get out—and now a man lay dead at their feet.


    His eyes stared blankly, an accusation Elsbeth couldn’t shake. If they were seen now, their lives would be over—her future, her education, everything lost in a heartbeat.


    Elsbeth swallowed hard. She hadn’t feared death until this moment, and perhaps she still didn’t, but disgrace? Ruin? The thought chilled her far more deeply.


    She shot a quick, accusatory glance at Cordelia. Her friend’s reckless confidence had brought them here, into the shadows with blood on their hands. Would Cordelia ever recognize the price of her impulsiveness?


    "What do we do?"


    Her pulse quickened—not from fear, but from clarity. "We follow them," Cordelia said, voice tight with resolve. "We can’t let them vanish. Not now."


    Elsbeth held herself still, holding back tears. She couldn’t fall apart now, not here.


    Cordelia was right. They were deep in it, and it was too late to back out.


    “Agreed,” she said, trying to sound confident.


    Then, they darted down the dark hallway; the hunt was on.