Come into these arms again

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𝔸 young man, certainly in his twenties, walked onto the stage of an empty theatre, his steps echoing softly in the vast, silent space. As he reached the centre, the spotlight found him, bathing him in its bright, unforgiving glare. He moved with purpose, assuming his starting position with the grace of someone who had done this countless times before.

The hauntingly beautiful strains of Swan Lake began to fill the room, each note resonating with an ethereal quality. As the music swelled, he started to dance, his movements fluid and precise, embodying the very essence of the melody. It was as if he were transported to another realm, a place where only he and his dance existed. In his mind, he wasn't alone; he danced with an invisible partner, every twirl and leap a conversation in motion.

His blue eyes, strikingly vivid in the harsh spotlight, told a story of their own. They sparkled with the intensity of his performance, yet behind their brilliance lay a depth of longing and sorrow. It was clear that this dance was more than a mere routine; it was an expression of something deeply personal, a poignant mixture of beauty and melancholy that held the audience of empty seats in rapt attention.

🕯

In the dimly lit alleyway outside a nondescript building, a woman stood with her dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Her eyes were fixed on her phone, where a picture of her and another woman, her sister, smiled back at her. The image captured a moment of happiness, a stark contrast to the current reality. Her sister was now in the hospital, having narrowly survived an overdose. She was supposed to be here, taking this offer to provide for her son, but Annabelle had stepped in to help her sister get better. It was a last-minute change of plans, but Annabelle had managed to secure the spot.

As she stared at the photo, lost in thought, the sharp sound of a car horn jolted her back to the present. She quickly put away her phone and approached the car, methodically loading her gun. Sliding into the cool interior, she donned her black gloves with practiced ease. One of the group members in the passenger seat glanced at her briefly before turning to face forward. The driver, his eyes on the road, spoke nervously, "The temperature okay back there? Is it, uh, too cold or too hot or..."

Before he could finish, the man in the passenger seat cut him off brusquely, "Temperature's fine. Just fucking drive."

Annabelle offered a small smile and addressed the driver kindly, "It's alright, thank you."

The driver nodded, visibly relieved. Annabelle then reached for her black case, opening it to reveal two injections nestled inside.

🕯

The young man danced to the music, becoming increasingly lost in its haunting melody. His movements grew more emotive, as if he were the white swan mourning the loss of his beloved. Each step, each graceful turn, conveyed a deep sense of sorrow and longing until, finally, the song reached its poignant conclusion and he ended his dance.

After a few moments of stillness, he gathered his belongings, slipping on his dark jacket. He stepped out into the cold night air, his breath forming small clouds in the chilly darkness. His driver stood ready, holding the door open for him. The young man climbed into the car, oblivious to the small tracker clinging to the underside of the vehicle.

The door shut with a solid thunk, and the car's engine purred to life. As they drove off into the night, unknowingly a tracker silently transmitted their location that lay underneath the car.

The man in the passenger seat was jolted by the notification sound on his phone. He glanced at the screen and saw the message: "Thy Dancer is moving." He showed it to the driver, who responded with a determined, "Hmm, let's go." They exchanged nods before pulling on their masks. Annabelle exhaled deeply, steadying herself, and then donned her own mask, which covered the lower part of her face, leaving only her dark, intense eyes visible.

"How do I look?" the driver asked, adjusting his mask. The passenger nodded in approval before they both faced forward, ready for the task ahead. Annabelle gazed out the window, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. She reminded herself of her purpose-she was doing this for her sister. She imagined the weight of an invisible necklace, a gesture to calm her nerves and focus her mind.

After a few tense moments, they arrived at their destination, a sprawling mansion. The metal gates swung open, granting them access, thanks to a group member in another car who had hacked the security system. Over the comms, a woman's voice crackled, "Front door is clear," followed by the sound of the door unlocking remotely.

"We're in," confirmed the man with glasses, as the trio stepped into an opulent, luxurious room. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

As they moved deeper into the mansion, the woman's voice came through once more, "Dancer is arriving."

The young man stared out the window, absentmindedly playing with the necklace that held two rings on it, humming the haunting melody of Swan Lake. As the car pulled up to his house, he felt a bittersweet mix of emotions, the music still echoing in his mind.

Inside the house, Annabelle took in the warmth and calm of the room. Her eyes landed on a drawing book lying on the bed. She moved closer and opened it, revealing a rough sketch of a woman with her back turned, her hair in a loose bun, and wearing a gown. The simplicity and beauty of the sketch mesmerized her. "Hey, get your head in the game. You wanna walk? Walk?" The sharp voice of the man with glasses jolted her back to reality. Annabelle glared at him, but before she could retort, he continued, "Yeah, that's what I thought. Get in position. You, over there."

Annabelle shot him another glare before turning to find her hiding spot, muttering under her breath, "3асранец." (Asshole) She concealed herself behind a folding screen, while the "asshole" hid behind the curtain near the bed and the other man took his position behind the door. Moments later, the young man entered the room, still on the phone. Annabelle watched him from her hiding spot, captivated by his charm. A warm feeling of happiness and something indescribable filled her heart as she observed him. He sat on his bed, still playing with his necklace, his voice smooth and soothing. "Yeah, I think so. No, not yet," he said, his tone calm and reassuring.

Suddenly, a creaking door broke the silence, catching his attention. He looked around the room, his expression turning cautious as he fell silent, listening intently for any other sounds.

After a brief moment, the young man resumed his conversation on the phone. "Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. Okay. Bye." He hung up and placed his phone down, his eyes drifting to his drawing. Suddenly, a hand clamped over his mouth, startling him. The man with the glasses attempted to hold him down, but the young man reacted quickly, grabbing a pencil and stabbing it into the man's hand.

"Ah, fuck!" the man with the glasses screamed, clutching his wounded hand. Before the young man could make a run for it, the other man who had been hiding behind the door burst out and tackled him. Together, they pinned him down. The man with the glasses, anger flashing in his eyes, was about to punch the young man when Annabelle's instincts kicked in.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the man's wrist, stopping his punch mid-air. In one swift motion, she pulled out one of the syringes from her case and injected it into the young man's neck, doing so with surprising gentleness. The young man's struggles weakened, and within moments, he slipped into a deep slumber.

The room fell silent as the tension dissipated, leaving Annabelle with a mix of relief and protectiveness over the unconscious dancer.

"Incoming." The woman's voice crackled through the communicator, drawing everyone's attention. "Could be the father."

Instantly, they quickened their pace. The driver handed a large bag to the man with the glasses. They worked swiftly, placing the sleeping young man inside the bag and zipping it up. The driver hefted the bag over his shoulders, and the trio moved quickly towards their exit.

"Ten seconds till they're at the door. Should I take the shot?" another voice from the communicator asked urgently.

"Negative. We'll be out in nine," the man with the glasses replied, his tone calm but firm.

As they made their way through the study towards the exit, a voice echoed through the house, calling out urgently, "Gabriel? Gabriel!"

The urgency in the caller's voice propelled them faster. They reached the window and slipped out just in time, rushing into the night. The man with the glasses spoke into his communicator, "Need a new pickup. Back gate."

"On it," the woman's voice responded promptly.

As the trio hurried along, another member of their group appeared and joined them. The man with the glasses glanced around and said, "Alright. I think we're in the clear."

Just as he finished speaking, the outside lights suddenly blazed on and the alarm blared, prompting the group to sprint. "Open the gate, assholes," the glasses man shouted into his communicator.

The gate opened just in time, allowing them to make their exit. A truck pulled up, and they all quickly climbed in, the vehicle speeding off into the night. Annabelle and the three men removed their masks, breathing heavily from the exertion. "Alright, kids. We're not out of the woods yet. We still gotta get out of the city," the man with the glasses reminded them, his voice stern but steady.

Annabelle opened the bag, revealing Gabriel inside. She checked his pulse, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and sighed with relief. As she looked at him, a small smile played on her lips. She gently brushed a strand of his brown hair out of his face, her fingers lingering for a moment. Her eyes caught the necklace with the two rings, and she felt an inexplicable draw to them. She carefully held the rings in her hand, feeling their significance. The big guy who had driven earlier and now sat across from her noticed her actions and asked, "He okay?"

"Yep, he's good. Blindfold?" Annabelle replied.

The big guy handed her a blindfold, and she gently tied it around Gabriel's eyes. As she finished, she glanced at the necklace one more time before placing it back on his chest, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the mysterious connection she felt.

The man with the glasses spoke up, catching Annabelle's attention. "You grab me like that again, I may have to respond," he said, his tone firm. Annabelle met his gaze, her expression unreadable for a moment. She then forced a fake smile and replied, "Understood." Turning her attention back to Gabriel, Annabelle made sure to hold him securely as the driver accelerated, speeding them away. The group erupted into cheers as they successfully made it out of the city, deftly avoiding the gaze of surveillance cameras.

Throughout the journey, Annabelle maintained a firm grip on Gabriel, ensuring he wouldn't be jostled or hurt during their escape. Her determination and focus remained unwavering as they put distance between themselves and the danger left behind in the city.

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By: SilverMist707

I hope you enjoy it <3