Rain fell in sheets, heavy enough to drown the cries of the damned. Thunder rolled overhead like distant artillery, shaking the city streets, masking the frantic steps of someone fleeing. Shadows streaked across slick alleys — one flash, a blur, then the sharp crack of a gunshot. Another. Another. Swallowed instantly by the storm.

Somewhere, someone screamed. Or maybe it was only the wind.

He stepped inside his apartment, shrugging off the day. The leather sofa welcomed him, the storm’s rhythm against the windows a steady counterpoint to his exhaustion. “Mmm... finally, some peace,” he murmured, sinking into the sofa, as he began to doze off

A soft tap at the window made him glance up. Probably just the wind, he thought, turning back to his glass.

A louder knock came at the backdoor. He stiffened. “That... surely can't be the wind, can it ?”

He moved cautiously toward the door, each step deliberate. He twisted the handle, swung it open. Nothing.

Then he saw her.

She slumped against the wall, drenched, blood streaking her pale skin, chest heaving. Her eyes darted frantically, wide with fear, scanning the shadows.

“I... I don’t have anyone else to turn to ... ” Her voice was barely audible, rasping.

No one had ever sounded so small, so raw. The woman who had once commanded shadows now trembled in front of him, helpless.

Another flash — movement behind her. A gunshot cracked through the storm, slicing the night. She flinched violently, body shaking.

“I... I can’t...” Her voice broke. “If they find me... it’s over...”

Her gaze locked on him, pleading. In that instant, he understood — he was the only one she could trust. "Please.... help... me"

The storm outside was nothing compared to the one she had carried all these years.

And now, there was nowhere else for her to go.