Beneath a Dying Sky

"Ms. Alice, allow us to accompany you," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He fell into step behind her, the second Sentinel following closely.

Alice let out a soft sigh, knowing it was futile to protest.

With her two bodyguards in tow, she made her way toward the building.

Just as she was ascending to the second floor, a tall man descended the stairs.

He had unruly black hair, sharp black eyes, and a chiseled face that carried both charm and exasperation. Standing at six feet tall, his disheveled yet undeniably handsome appearance gave him an air of casual confidence.

The man paused as he saw her, guilt flickering across his face.

"Alice," he began, his voice tinged with apology.

"I'm sorry for being late. Let's go." He tried to step past her hurriedly, adding, "I'll make it up to you with a shopping trip today."

But Alice wasn't having it.

With a swift motion, she raised her small hand, blocking his path.

Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared him down.

"Where's the gift?" she demanded, her voice sharp, tinged with disappointment.

Simon blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"Ha!" he stammered, his expression shifting as he scrambled to piece together an answer.

After a moment, his face brightened with a strained smile. "Happy Birthday, Alice!" he blurted out, as if he'd just remembered an important occasion.

Alice sighed deeply, her fingers pressing against her forehead in disbelief.

"Simon, how are you this clueless?" she chided, her tone full of exasperation. "It's not my birthday. Today's my parents' wedding anniversary!"

Simon's awkward chuckle filled the air as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Right… Of course! How could I forget?" he said, his voice light and sheepish, betraying his embarrassment.

The Sentinels exchanged amused glances but remained silent.

Alice glanced at Simon, her expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.

"Honestly, Simon, I don't get it. You're graduating soon as one of the top rankers in your class, yet you can never seem to remember the most important things!"

Simon chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not the important things—just the unimportant ones."

"You!" Alice huffed, her blue eyes narrowing into a glare. Before she could say more, Simon spun on his heel, holding up a hand to stop her.

"Wait a second. I need to grab something."

With those words, he turned toward his room, patting down his pockets in search of his keys.

"Where did they go?" he muttered under his breath, frustration mounting as he searched frantically.

Alice, clearly unimpressed, followed him, her arms crossed.

The two Sentinels trailed close behind scanning the surroundings.

As Simon continued fumbling, the thinner Sentinel stepped onto the balcony, his sharp gaze catching sight of children playing on the road below.

He pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew it sharply.

Whieeee!

The piercing sound echoed through the street, drawing the attention of both passersby and the children, who froze mid-game to look up.

The Sentinel leaned over the railing, his voice cutting through the commotion.

"You kids! Don't play in the middle of the road. Clear the way for the vehicles!"

The children, startled, scampered off, their laughter fading as they disappeared into nearby alleyways.

Meanwhile, Simon's face lit up as he finally fished the key out of his pocket.

"Ah, there it is," he said triumphantly, fitting the key into the lock. He gave it a turn and frowned.

"Weird. Why isn't it opening?"

He jiggled the key, trying again, but the door refused to budge.

With a determined grunt, he pressed his shoulder against it, giving it a harder shove.

Still, it wouldn't move. From inside the room came the faint sound of shuffling.

The burly Sentinel, who had been standing silently beside Alice, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing.

"Someone's in there," he said, his voice low and ominous.

Simon froze, his hand still on the doorknob.

Alice's gaze flicked between him and the door, her pulse quickening.

The thinner Sentinel drew his baton, his posture tense, while the larger one pressed an ear to the door, straining to catch any further sounds.

...

"Find a way out, now!" Zach shouted, his voice strained as he and Matilda braced their shoulders against the groaning door.

The relentless thudding from outside grew louder, more urgent.

Tia darted from room to room, scooping up anything of value—silver trinkets, small artifacts, anything that might fetch a price.

Meanwhile, Danny bolted into the bedroom, yanking back the curtains to reveal a narrow window. He pressed his face to the glass, scanning the street below.

He dashed back to the hall, his breath quick. "There's a way out through the bedroom!"

Zach nodded sharply, his muscles straining as the door buckled under the next kick.

Thud.

The burly Sentinel's voice bellowed from the other side. "Who's in there? Surrender now, or we'll take you by force!"

Zach muttered under his breath, frustration laced in his tone. "These walls must be soundproof. Lucky us." He turned to the others. "Grab anything useful and move!"

Zach abandoned the door, confident that the piled furniture would buy them precious moments.

He snatched up valuables—a globe, an old oil lamp—and shoved them into a dusty bag he'd found.

Matilda clutched a handful of knives, her knuckles pale as fear settled in.

Danny, however, hesitated.

His feet carried him back to the lab, his eyes drawn to the clutter of books and peculiar objects scattered across the shelves.

"Focus," he muttered, slapping his cheeks. But his gaze snagged on a transparent container.

Inside were small, thumb-sized spheres, their surfaces rough and radiant—red, blue, green, white.

Each bore a label etched beneath it: "TNT," "Th," "Pu," "U," "Po."