No second chance

Rain began as a light drizzle just after checking up on my last patient. I glanced through the clinic window, watching the sky darken far earlier than usual, and sighed before closing the final medical file. The events of the past few days refused to leave my mind. Eleanor Briggs' warning. The muddy footprints inside my clinic. Ethan's growing concern. I wanted to believe they were unrelated, that I was simply letting fear cloud my judgment, but every time I reached for that comforting thought, something inside me whispered otherwise. I locked the medicine cabinet, switched off the lights one by one, and slung my medical bag over my shoulder. The village had already gone quiet. Most families were indoors, escaping the coming rain. Only the sound of distant thunder followed me as I stepped outside and locked the clinic door behind me.

I had barely taken a few steps when I heard another set of footsteps.

Slow.

Measured, not trying to hide, i stopped walking, the footsteps stopped, too.

A chill crawled up my spine. I looked over my shoulder. The road behind me was empty except for the flickering streetlamp and the rain beginning to soak the dusty ground. I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. You're imagining things, Ariana. Tightening my grip on my bag, I continued toward home, forcing myself not to look back again.

Then, a rough hand clamped over my mouth.

A sharp object pressed against my neck.

"Don't scream."

The voice was low and unfamiliar.

Every muscle in my body froze.

"You survived once," he whispered near my ear. "You won't survive twice."

My heartbeat exploded inside my chest.

Instinct took over before fear could. I drove my heel down as hard as I could onto his foot. The man cursed, his grip loosening just enough for me to slam the back of my head into his face. He staggered, and I tore free, clutching my medical bag as I ran. The rain had become heavier now, making the narrow road slippery beneath my feet. I didn't dare look behind me. The sound of his boots chasing after me was enough.

"Help!" I screamed. "Somebody help!"

The empty village answered with silence.

I cut through the marketplace, knocking over baskets of tomatoes and wooden crates behind me. They crashed onto the ground, slowing him for only a second. My lungs burned, but I kept running. I knew these roads better than anyone. If I could reach the police station...

A sharp pain exploded across my shoulder.

The assassin had caught the strap of my bag and yanked me backwards with enough force to throw me onto the muddy ground. My palms scraped against the gravel as my bag slid several feet away. Before I could crawl toward it, he grabbed the back of my jacket and dragged me across the wet road.

"You've caused too many problems, Doctor."

I twisted violently, kicking at his legs.

"I don't even know who you are!"

"You don't need to."

The blade flashed beneath the streetlight.

For one terrifying second, all I could see was the reflection of the knife.

Is this really how it ends?

The roar of engines suddenly echoed through the village.

Headlights swept across the road.

Three black SUVs rounded the corner, their tires cutting through puddles before slowing almost instinctively at the sight of the struggle. The assassin glanced toward the vehicles, irritation flashing in his eyes.

Inside the second SUV, a tall man sitting in the back seat lifted his gaze from the document in his hand. His expression remained unreadable as he watched the woman fighting desperately against a masked attacker in the rain.

"Boss," the driver said quietly, "looks like village business."

The man didn't answer immediately.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the scene outside.

The doctor.

She was the same woman who had bumped into him earlier that afternoon.

His fingers tapped once against the leather armrest.

"Keep driving," one of the men in the front suggested. "This has nothing to do with us."

The stranger looked away for only a moment before returning his attention to the rain-soaked road.

"Slow down."

The convoy reduced its speed but didn't stop.

Outside, I drove my elbow into the attacker's ribs and scrambled to my feet. My vision blurred as rain streamed into my eyes. I stumbled toward the middle of the road, hoping someone inside the vehicles would notice me.

The assassin reached me first.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back so violently that I cried out.

"No one is saving you."

He raised the knife.

A gunshot shattered the night.

The bullet struck the ground inches from the attacker's foot.

"Police!" Ethan's voice thundered across the road. "Drop the knife!"

The assassin shoved me aside and spun toward the approaching officer. Ethan emerged from the darkness with his pistol raised, two deputies close behind him.

"I said drop it!"

Instead, the attacker threw a handful of mud toward Ethan's face and sprinted into the forest bordering the village.

"Ethan!" I gasped.

"Stay where you are!"

He fired another warning shot before taking off after the fleeing man with the deputies close behind.

I collapsed onto my knees, struggling to steady my breathing. My entire body trembled uncontrollably. I hadn't realized how close death had come until now.

The convoy rolled slowly past me.

For just a second, I looked up.

Through the rain-streaked window of the middle SUV, I caught the silhouette of a man watching me in silence. I couldn't make out his face. Only his sharp profile before the tinted glass slid out of view as the vehicle continued down the road.

He never stepped out.

He never spoke.

Within seconds, the convoy disappeared into the rain as though it had never been there.

Several minutes later, Ethan returned alone, breathing heavily.

"He got away," he said, frustration evident in his voice.

He knelt in front of me, his eyes scanning every visible injury.

"Are you hurt?"

"I... I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"I can't tell."

He gently lifted my scraped hands, his jaw tightening at the sight of blood mixed with rainwater.

"I should've walked you home."

"This isn't your fault."

"It is."

"No."

His voice cracked with anger.

"I knew someone was after you, Ariana, and I still let you leave this clinic alone."

I placed a trembling hand on his arm.

"You came."

"I almost didn't make it in time."

The words hung heavily between us.

Ethan stood and retrieved something from the muddy ground a few feet away.

The knife.

The assassin must have dropped it while running.

Ethan carefully wrapped it in a clean evidence cloth before examining the handle under the light.

There, engraved into the steel, was a strange symbol.

Not initials.

Not a manufacturer's mark.

A symbol neither of us had ever seen before.

Ethan's expression darkened.

"This..." he murmured, "...isn't from anyone in Ashwood."

A cold breeze swept through the deserted street.

For the first time since all of this began, I realized something far more terrifying than the attack itself.

Whoever wanted me dead...

Was willing to send strangers into my peaceful little village to make sure the job was finished.