𝟸𝟼. "... 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎?"

PEARL'S P.O.V

The syringe hovered over the vial, the needle glinting under the dim light. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pressed the plunger down, forcing the trapped air out in a silent hiss.

Then, carefully, I lowered the needle into the liquid, piercing through the thin rubber seal.

A slight pull on the plunger. The liquid obeyed, rising smoothly into the barrel, swirling in slow, hypnotic motion. Milliliter by milliliter, it filled the syringe, dark and waiting.

I flicked the side with a sharp tap, watching the tiny bubbles race to the top before pushing the plunger ever so slightly—just enough to let a single drop bead at the tip of the needle. A test. A warning.

Then, with steady hands, I turned to him. He sat there, unconscious, head cast down and hands tied behind his back.

How ironic.

It was surreal for me too, how easy it was to get him but I couldn't dwell on that now, I had to finish the work I had already began.

Grabbing the band beside, I put my hair up in a bun. I'll care once I've gotten what I wanted. I turned back around, he was still the same, his jet black hair dishelvled.

I took a step closer to him, for some reason not being able to take a full stride. How long has it been since we've both been this close.

I stopped in front of him, staring down and with that I slowly squatted to the floor and those silver eyes shot to me immediately.

I felt the breath get stuck in my throat, those familiar orbs held a glint as blood trade down from his eyebrows to his eyelids. “You've always loved to be in control, haven't you?“

Of course, he wouldn't stay down like he was supposed to. He was only making things harder for himself.

I let out a resigned breath and getting up to walk back to the table to double the dose. “I never thought our reunion will be this way” he continued and I ignored as I injected more liquid.

“... In a warehouse like this”

I turned around and faced him, his eyes now on me. It was indeed surreal having him here after all this while. But I knew better than to think he was the sand man.

“I've missed that view—”

“Keep talking and you will die soon than later” I stated, striding to him and that infuriating smirk enveloping his lips.

“Then you've granted my life long wish”

“Stay steady” I instructed but he still tilted his head to look at me better. “It's been so long” he said and I paused for a second, my eyes locking with his.

“Why do we meet this way?“

“Seems like you want both your legs and your other hand to have a hole through them” I answered and he grinned.

“If only it's by you”

I hissed, anger coiling in my gut like a snake ready to strike. My grip tightened around the syringe, and I drove it toward his neck—only for his hand to snap up, knocking it away before I could pierce his skin.

I barely had time to register how he had freed himself from the ropes before he lunged. I reached for the gun on the table, but he was faster. In a blur of movement, he spun me around, wrenched the gun from my grasp, and dumped the bullets with a flick of his wrist.

Silence hung thick in the air, the kind that settles in the wake of a storm. My breaths came hard and fast as I glared at him, my pulse hammering in my ears. He held both my wrists behind my back with ease, his grip firm but almost teasing.

That smirk—infuriating, cocky—curved across his lips. “I know how you love a challenge. So why would I make this easy for you?”

“Here’s a challenge, then,” I shot back, my voice sharp. “Let me go and fight me for real.”

His smirk widened. “I’m sure you can get out of my hold.”

I growled low in my throat and shoved against him with all my strength. The second I was free, my hands flew to my waist, pulling out two gleaming blades.

“Knives?” He chuckled, tilting his head. “Are you flirting with me?”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, I lunged, blades slicing through the air. He dodged smoothly, sidestepping my attacks as if he’d anticipated each one. Rage pulsed through me, the memories, the betrayal, the years of anger surging like wildfire. I should have killed him from the start. I should have never given him a chance to breathe.

He deflected every strike, every attempt to land a blow. My grip tightened, frustration clawing at my insides. With a sharp inhale, I hurled one of the blades, aiming for his chest, but he moved at the last second. The knife embedded itself in the table behind him with a dull thud.

Before I could react, he was on me again, seizing my wrist and twisting me around. A dagger pressed against my throat, the cold steel a taunting reminder of just how close he was.

Pinned once more, I swallowed hard, my chest heaving as his voice brushed against my ear.

“You’re getting reckless,” he murmured. “And I thought you liked to take your time.”

That only fueled my anger and u tried to get out of his hold.

Not just any dagger—the one I lost, the one he took that day.

“The only time you're a breath away is when you're trying to kill me” he said and my elbow immediately nabbed his sides and he lost balance for a second.

Taking advantage of the opening, I lunged, driving the blade toward him—but it snagged in the fabric of his suit, barely grazing him.

I shot him a sharp look, but he only chuckled, the sound low and amused.

Frustration burned through me. Without thinking, I swung, my fist connecting with his face in a satisfying crack. I barely had time to reach for another gun on the table before he moved.

In one swift motion, he yanked me back, his arm locking across my chest, his blade pressing against my throat once more.

Never fight with emotions. You get sloppy.

And I was sloppy—because I was mad.

The gun slipped from my grasp, clattering to the floor as I struggled to steady my breath. His scent wrapped around me, a maddening mix of familiarity and frustration, grounding me and infuriating me all at once.

He wasn’t fighting back. He didn’t need to.

And deep down, I knew the truth—I wasn’t winning this fight. I never had been.

“I've missed that fire” he whisperd, his breath fanning my ears. “Do it” I challenged, my breath ragged.

The sharp blade hovered over my throat as he still didn't make an attempt to slit my throat. Instead he let me go and I stumbled back, my brows knitted in confusion as I turned back to him.

He held on that look as he inserted the dagger back into his pocket. My gaze diverted to the gun right beside my feet and I was tempted to pick it up. “I didn't hesitate” he reminded, his voice cutting into my thoughts.

He didn't want to kill me, better still, he didn't want to fight.

He looked around the place, turning to the other side, giving an exclusive opportunity to pick up the gun but I didn't... And I can't tell why.

Something in me had...calmed down.

I was out of breath but it wasn't anger I felt deep down, it was this sudden familiarity of having him here. “I won't ask who you work for because knowing you, I know you don't take orders from any one” he said, dipping his hands into his pocket as he walked around the place.

“But I'll ask this” he glanced up at me. “What do you want?“

I let out a low breath, crossing my hands over my chest. “Are you gonna make it easy for me? ”

He smiled. “I know you don't like that”

At that moment, a deafening roar split through the air, rattling the walls and making the equipment around us tremble. The steady hum of approaching blades sent a vibration through the floor, growing louder—unstoppable.

I dropped my arms and turned sharply toward the window, my pulse spiking. The sight outside made my breath hitch. A helicopter hovered just above, its powerful gusts kicking up dust and debris, while multiple black vans screeched to a halt below. Armed men poured out in seamless formation, their heavy boots striking the pavement in perfect rhythm.

I blinked, disbelief surging through me like wildfire. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I snapped, my voice cutting through the chaos.

“So, you've held me for 2 hours” he commented in a casual tone and I shot back to him. “Seriously, a helicopter? Can you be anymore extra?!“

He grinned, a slow, knowing smirk, and walked to the window where I stood. Outside, armed men poured out of the van, their heavy boots slamming against the pavement as they rushed toward the building. The air tightened, the weight of their presence pressing down on me.

For a split second, I let myself look at him—really look at him. His features were unchanged, sharp and familiar, yet somehow distant. I didn’t know why I expected time to alter him, to mold him into someone different. But up close, I could see it. The original side. The former Travis.

His gaze snapped to mine, and my breath caught. A silent beat passed between us before I tore my eyes away.

"Are you trying to stab me again?" he mused, amusement flickering in his voice.

"It would’ve been easier if you sat still," I shot back, but my words felt thinner than usual, my mind still tangled in his presence.

He turned to me fully then, his eyes lingering—longer than necessary. Something unreadable flickered behind them, something I couldn't quite grasp.

"The Labyrinth isn’t a thing," he finally said, his voice calm, deliberate. He paused. "It’s a place."

And before I could even react, the door burst open. Armed men flooded in, their presence thick with unspoken threats. My body tensed, but Travis didn’t move. He didn’t even look at them. His focus remained solely on me.

He had known. He had always known. He’d been one step ahead this entire time. he knew what I was after.

But why tell me this?

His hand lifted slightly, a simple command that halted the men in their tracks. Then, without warning, he leaned in. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. Close enough that my pulse betrayed me, hammering against my ribs. I stood frozen, rigid, unable to think, unable to move.

"I hope that didn’t make it easier for you," he murmured, voice low, almost teasing.

Then he pulled back, that damn smirk still curving his lips, and turned away. I could only watch, my body still locked in place, as he strode out the door. The men followed, sealing the space behind them.

And just like that, he was gone.

I exhaled a shaky breath, only now realizing how tightly I’d been holding it in. My mind replayed everything—his words, his gaze, the way he hadn’t hesitated.

The Labyrinth is a place.

And suddenly, everything felt different. Did he want me to come for him?