Ruban felt his breath quicken, even as the blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he stared down at the painstakingly reassembled photograph sitting on the dilapidated old shelf of the warehouse.

“Ruban,” Ashwin was saying, his voice uncertain and indistinct. Ruban didn’t care. At the moment, he wouldn’t have cared if the whole building had come crashing down around them. It was all he could do not to pull his gun out and destroy what was left of it himself. He staggered back, slowly, dazedly. His mind knew that he had to move, had to get out of here, do something; but the rest of his body felt numb, as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

“Ruban!” It was Ashwin again, calling his name urgently, his voice louder now, gaining in confidence. A hand shook Ruban’s shoulders insistently. “Ruban, snap out of it. We have to leave now. She might be in danger. We have to find her.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Find her. Yes, he had to find her. He would find her, keep her safe if it was the last thing he did in his life. Ruban looked down at the photo once again. It was as if icy fingers were digging their claws into his heart and he gasped, fighting to hold back tears. But he wouldn’t cry, couldn’t allow himself to. Not until he found her, made sure that she was safe. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, fighting desperately to get his breathing back under control, to stop his hands from shaking as he passed his fingers gently over the tattered picture one last time. “Yes, we have to find her,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, as he turned on his heel and all but ran out of the crumbling old building.

From within the shadows of the warehouse, a smiling Hiya stared after him from the glossy surface of the tattered photo, even as the frayed pieces began to scatter in the breeze once more.