POV Shift: Iris Denholm – The Survivor
In my head, everything blurred. The bleeding in my side pulsed like a heartbeat outside of rhythm, and my hand trembled from exhaustion. The broken glass shard I gripped felt heavier with every breath, like lead forged by fear. Across from me, Lucien Vale—the Mafia—stood tall, bleeding from the side, lips curled into that same arrogant smirk.
He hadn't stopped smiling since the fight began.
I knew that smile wasn't for intimidation. It was honest. A smile from someone who enjoyed this. The chaos. The blood. The unraveling of sanity.
No... not someone.
A monster.
My legs were wobbling, my breaths shallow. We circled each other like dying animals, waiting for the other to blink.
One wrong move.
One breath out of rhythm.
And this ends.
I kept my body tense, eyes locked onto his every twitch. He rolled his shoulders. Loosened his wrist. Shifted the knife in his hand like he was testing the air for weight.
Tick.
Tock.
The air thickened.
And then he moved.
A blur.
He shot forward like a jagged bullet, aiming low, cutting diagonally. I barely had time to twist my body. The blade nicked my side again. The pain was hot and sudden, but my momentum carried me into a roll. I came up behind him, gritting my teeth, and jabbed the shard toward his spine.
He spun, parried the strike with his elbow, and punched me square in the stomach.
I choked, folded to the ground. He raised the blade again—this time for a final strike.
But I wasn't done.
I thrust my knee upward into his ribs with every ounce of strength I had left. He staggered, gasping, and I jumped on his back like a feral animal. We tumbled backward, crashing into the cushioned seats of the second row. My arm wrapped around his throat, trying to choke him out, trying to end this. Now.
He slammed me backward into the aisle floor.
Crack.
My vision blurred. I tasted blood in my mouth.
But I didn't let go.
He dropped the knife.
I reached for it—he caught my wrist.
We wrestled for control, each of us bleeding, breathing like animals, too tired to stand, too furious to give in.
Our eyes met for a second.
His were still sharp.
Mine burned with everything I had left.
And then—
We both froze.
Neither of us had the energy.
Both our bodies were trembling.
He slumped to the first row, breathing raggedly. The blood from his shoulder coated the leather armrest. His knife was just inches away, but he didn't move for it.
I crawled to the stage, dragging myself like a corpse, and sat with my back against the giant cinema screen. The red glow from the emergency light flickered across the room.
The silence that followed was heavier than all the chaos.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
A draw.
No victor.
Only survivors.
For now.
I leaned my head back against the cold wall behind the screen, closing my eyes just for a second, letting my pulse settle.
Because no matter what tomorrow brings, I knew this—
I made the monster bleed.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough… to buy the others time.
My vision was getting blurry and a glimpse I saw him stand up and…
POV: The Main Character (Caius Turner)
Me and Rin were running—sprinting through halls that felt tighter with every turn, our footsteps pounding like war drums. We weren't sure where Iris was, but something inside me… no, something deep in my bones told me she was close. And she wasn't okay.
The hallway twisted, turned, then—
Glass. Broken.
Blood smears. A cracked handrail. A knife wedged into the wall like it had been thrown. The air reeked of sweat and metal.
I slowed. My heart didn't.
Outside the cinema room, the floor was a battlefield. Chairs were upturned, deep gouges tore through the carpet. Blood trailed like footprints of a dying ghost.
And then—
I saw the gun.
It lay discarded just inches from the cinema door, like someone had dropped it mid-fight. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed it. Cold. Heavy. Loaded.
"Rin," I said, voice low. "Get ready for the worst."
We pushed the doors open.
What we saw made the blood in my body freeze.
Iris.
She was slumped against the giant cinema screen, her clothes drenched in red, hands shaking as she tried to stay upright. Her breathing was shallow, ragged like each breath was being fought for.
And opposite her—
Lucien Vale.
The Mafia.
Bleeding. Broken. Still moving.
He wasn't walking.
He was stalking—a slow, deliberate crawl forward, like a predator who refuses to die without dragging someone with him. His shirt was soaked through, chest torn, one arm hanging limp.
But in his good hand, he still held a blade.
His eyes were wild, bloodshot.
And he was smiling.
Rin gasped. "Oh my god—"
But I was already moving.
He raised the knife.
And in that moment, I didn't think.
I fired.
Once.
Twice.
The recoil slammed through my wrist like thunder. Lucien staggered back, the first bullet tearing into his shoulder, the second slamming into his gut.
He didn't scream.
He didn't even flinch.
But the smile vanished.
His mouth opened. He said something—I couldn't hear it over the ringing in my ears.
Then he collapsed.
Like a marionette with its strings cut.
Face first.
Still.
Dead.
My arm trembled from the recoil of the gun. I stared down the smoking barrel. My breath hitched.
I finally killed the man who made this huge mess.
But I didn't move. Not yet. Not until I was sure. I approached slowly, gun still raised. Lucien lay sprawled across the carpet, blood pooling beneath him, the blade knocked from his hand.
He didn't move again.
And I looked up at Iris.
Her head lolled slightly, but she was awake. Barely. Her eyes fluttered open when she saw me.
I rushed to her side, Rin trailing just behind me.
"Iris. Hey—hey, stay with me. Look at me." I dropped the gun, kneeling beside her.
She tried to smile. "You always show up late."
"That's your complaint?" I asked, voice cracking.
She coughed. Blood streaked her lips. "Better late than never…"
"Stop talking," Rin said, ripping part of her shirt and pressing it against Iris' wound. "Save your strength."
"I'm fine…" Iris whispered. "I'm just… tired."
"No. You're not fine." I pressed her hand. "You're not dying. I won't let you. You hear me?"
Iris blinked slowly. "He was strong. So much stronger than I expected. But I didn't back down…"
"I know." I forced a shaky breath. "You bought us time. You saved us."
Her fingers twitched in mine. "You'll end it, right? This game…"
I looked her straight in the eye. "I swear it."
"I believe you…" she whispered. "So don't lose."
Her hand slipped from mine.
she closed her eyes and said.
"I missed going outing outside… Too watch the scenery… Too enjoy the thrill of adventure."
But her chest still rose—weak, shallow—but alive.
"She's breathing," Rin said quickly. "We need to stop the bleeding. Now."
I nodded, swallowing the burn in my throat.
I turned back to Lucien.
Even in death, his face was calm. Not frightened. Not angry.
Like he knew this wasn't the end.
I looked back at Iris. Then at Rin. Then at the blood on my hands.
But tonight…
We survived.
Just barely.