131. Motorbikes

The silence in the basement was thick and hollow, only disturbed by the muffled echoes of Josh's footsteps as he walked a few paces ahead of Ashley. 

They had just exited the elevator and were headed toward the car parked near the far end of the dimly lit structure. Josh’s jaw was clenched. His eyes fixed straight ahead and his shoulders very stiff. The remnants of his earlier frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

The concrete echoed beneath their steps as they walked through the dim basement of the apartment building. The only sounds were the distant hum of fluorescent lights and Josh’s low, frustrated sighs.

He hadn’t said much since they left the apartment. But the tension was thick, hanging between them like fog.

“I still don’t see why we have to go,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s ridiculous.”

Ashley, a few steps behind, quickened her pace to keep up. “It’s just dinner, Josh. He’s trying to apologize.”

Josh shot her a sideways glance, sharp and impatient. “Apologize? After barging into our lives like that? After making a scene in our house?”

Ashley didn’t respond right away. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse.

“You insisted,” Josh went on, his voice harsher now. “You kept asking, again and again. 'Just one dinner, please.' You wouldn’t drop it.”

“I just wanted to end the tension,” she said softly. “For once.”

Josh stopped walking and turned to her, irritation flaring in his expression. “No, Ashley. You wanted to make yourself feel better. That’s what this is about. You feel guilty for dragging him into that mess. You always try to fix everything. But guess who has to play along every time?”

Ashley swallowed, stunned by the sharpness in his tone. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“Well, congratulations,” he snapped. “You did.”

He turned around and kept walking, leaving Ashley behind. She stood frozen for a second before trailing after him in silence. The hallway grew colder. Emptier.

Ashley trailed a few meters behind, her heels clicking unevenly on the concrete floor. The air felt colder down here, and not just because of the underground draft. She could sense Josh’s irritation hanging between them, heavy and unresolved. 

But before she could catch up to him, the sound of an engine suddenly roared from the far entrance of the basement.

Two motorcycles appeared—fast, black, and terrifyingly silent for machines that size. The riders were clad in dark clothing from head to toe, helmets tinted, faces obscured. They didn’t slow down.

Ashley’s heart stopped.

The first motorbike swerved toward her suddenly, the rider's intention clear—it was aiming to strike. 

Her eyes widened as she froze for a split second, instincts screaming at her to move. At the very last moment, she stumbled sideways, the motorcycle missing her by inches, the blast of air from its speed sweeping through her hair.

But the motorbikes didn’t stop. The first motorbike looped, circled back, and accelerated toward her again. This time with intent, accelerating so much harder than before.

Josh turned around just in time to hear the screech of tires and Ashley’s gasp.

A sharp roar of an engine—too loud, too sudden. It broke through the air like a scream. Josh paused, his head jerking toward the sound.

Ashley, several steps behind, barely had time to react when another motorbike burst from the corner of the basement ramp—fast, reckless, the riders masked, clothed in black. 

Tires screeched as one of them swerved violently in Ashley’s direction. 

Meanwhile, Ashley hadn’t regained full balance from the attack before. She barely had time to step back. One rider leaned closer, and the man on the back seat drew something from his side. Metal glinted in the low light.

Her bag hung precariously off her shoulder. 

The front wheel missed her by inches on purpose. But a rush of wind and noise slammed into her, knocking her slightly off balance. The second rider, seated on the back of the motorcycle, reached out with something long and glinting—a blade.

In one swift, terrifying motion, the blade slashed at Ashley’s shoulder bag, tearing through the strap. 

Her handbag was slashed open, the strap severed in one swipe. Its contents spilled across the concrete like fallen feathers—phone, keys, lip balm, pens—while her body lurched forward, thrown by the force. The sudden impact pushed her off balance, and the rear wheel of the motorbike caught her side. She was flung to the concrete with a sickening thud.

Her head struck the ground with a dull crack.

And her scream never fully formed.

Josh sprinted, his voice tearing through the basement. “Ashley!”

The two bikes didn’t stop. They zipped past Josh and vanished toward the far end, swallowed by shadows, the sound of their engines echoing like a death rattle.

Josh screamed louder. “No—Ashley!”

Josh reached Ashley’s side, kneeling beside her in horror. She was lying face-down, her arms limp at her sides, a dark streak of blood creeping from her temple, staining her cheek and pooling slowly on the ground. Her eyes were closed. Her body didn’t move.

“Ashley—Ashley, hey—”

Josh’s voice broke as he rushed to her, but the motorbikes were already gone. Tires screamed. In seconds, they disappeared into the maze of concrete and shadow.

Josh dropped to his knees. Ashley’s body was still. Her face was turned to the side, her hair soaked in red near her temple.

His hands hovered, not sure where to touch. There was blood. Too much blood. He turned her over gently, his own hands shaking as he brushed her hair away from her face. Her skin was pale, lips slightly parted, a faint breath barely visible.

Panic surged through him.

He looked toward the direction the bikers had gone, teeth clenched, rage flaring in his chest.

He wanted to chase them. Find them. Kill them.

But Ashley’s bleeding head in his arms forced his focus. He froze. Everything else disappeared—the noise, the lights, the past argument. Only Ashley remained. Unmoving.

Josh’s hands trembled as he reached for her. He looked back down, breath shallow, chest rising rapidly. “Stay with me, Ashley. Please. Don’t do this.”

The parking basement was now quiet again, too quiet. Only the distant hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the drip of some unseen pipe punctuated the stillness.