Contract Marriage with My Secret Partner in Crime-Chapter 90: After the Escape

The night air hit Reynold’s face like a slap when they stumbled out of the metal doorway, coughing and gasping. They didn’t stop. They couldn’t.

Jeric was half-dragging himself beside him, one hand still clutching the battered flashlight, the beam jittering across the cracked concrete of the alley. Behind them, the facility loomed like a dying beast, emergency sirens wailing low and broken.

"Where the hell are we?" Jeric panted, his eyes darting around wildly.

Reynold scanned the surroundings with sharp, quick glances. Faded signs. Rusted fences. The whole place looked abandoned. Industrial district maybe. No cameras. No witnesses. Perfect for whatever twisted project they’d just been trapped inside.

"This way," Reynold said, grabbing Jeric by the jacket and pulling him down the alley, deeper into the maze of crumbling buildings.

They ran in silence, the only sounds their harsh breathing and the distant echo of alarms. Reynold’s mind was racing. Too fast. He forced it to slow down. Focus. Step by step.

First: get somewhere safe.

Second: figure out what the Diamond family and Cassius Varen were really playing at.

Third: keep Zephany out of it. No matter what.

After what felt like an eternity, they ducked into a narrow service tunnel. It smelled like oil and mold, but it was hidden, dark. A place to breathe for a second.

Jeric slumped against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting, legs sprawled, chest heaving. "Man... what the hell was that?" he rasped, voice cracking from exertion.

Reynold didn’t answer right away. His hands braced on his knees, he stared down the tunnel like he expected Ted—or whatever had been inside Ted—to come sprinting after them.

He finally spoke, voice low, controlled. "It was a warning."

Jeric looked up, confused. "A warning? Felt more like a goddamn execution."

Reynold shook his head. "No. If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead. That... that was a message."

Jeric laughed bitterly. "Well, message received. Loud and freaking clear."

Reynold stood upright, stretching his sore muscles, every fiber of his body alert. He fished his phone from his pocket, grimacing when he saw it shattered from the fall earlier. Useless.

"Come on," Reynold said, motioning for Jeric to get up. "We need transport. We need to get off their grid."

Jeric pushed himself up, grumbling but following without argument. Fear made people obedient, Reynold thought. That was probably what Cassius was counting on too.

They moved quickly, cutting through alleys and abandoned lots. Reynold’s instincts led the way—where to walk, where to duck, when to move fast, when to move slow. Survival was an old language, and Reynold spoke it fluently.

It wasn’t until they reached a run-down parking structure that Reynold slowed. A few battered cars sat forgotten in the corners. He approached one—a rusted-out blue sedan—checked for alarms (none), then yanked the door open with a practiced jerk of a slim metal tool he’d kept hidden in his boot.

Jeric whistled low. "Since when do you know how to jack cars?"

"Since before you knew how to tie your shoes," Reynold muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Jeric didn’t argue. He just jumped into the passenger side and slammed the door shut.

With a few sharp twists and a prayer, the engine sputtered to life. Reynold drove fast but careful, weaving out of the structure and onto the dark streets.

They didn’t talk much during the drive. The city’s outskirts passed by—empty lots, warehouses, closed shops with graffiti tags. The kind of places people forgot about.

Finally, Reynold pulled into the back of an old auto-repair shop, hidden behind a line of dumpsters and broken-down trucks. He killed the engine.

Jeric looked around nervously. "Is this... safe?"

"For now," Reynold said. "Get inside."

The shop had been abandoned for months, but Reynold had rigged a few security measures the last time he’d needed a bolt-hole. Motion sensors. Manual locks. No power, but safer that way.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and old oil. Reynold found an overturned crate, kicked it upright, and sat down heavily. His body ached. His mind screamed for answers.

Jeric hovered nearby, looking lost. He finally broke the silence. "Reynold... what do we do now?"

Reynold leaned back against the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling. "Now?" His voice was flat. "Now we think."

He closed his eyes for a moment, piecing everything together.

Ted.

The voice over the speakers.

Cassius might be watching them.

Seems he was being played. They wanted him deeper in this. But why?

And why now?

The Diamonds. That family had always been in power, but this was different. They weren’t just cleaning up loose ends. They were testing something. Or someone.

And Cassius Varen...

The man was too smart to make mistakes. Everything he did was calculated. Precise. If Reynold was still alive, it was because Cassius wanted him alive.

For now.

Jeric shifted awkwardly, breaking Reynold’s train of thought. "You think... you think Zephany’s safe?"

Reynold’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t let himself think about her—not really—until now.

Zephany, with her stubborn fire, her sharp mind. She was too good at digging, too loyal for her own damn good. If she caught even a whiff of what was happening...

He shoved a hand through his hair, breathing hard.

"I have to make sure she stays out of this," he said, voice low, dangerous.

Jeric frowned. "You think they’ll go after her?"

Reynold didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

The fact that they even might was enough.

He stood abruptly, pacing. His mind working faster now, sharper. He couldn’t play defense anymore. Cassius wanted him tangled? Fine. But he’d drag Cassius down with him if he had to.

"Tomorrow," Reynold said, more to himself than to Jeric. "We start digging hard. Find out everything—what happened to Subject Eleven, why Ted was there, what phase they said failed."

Jeric swallowed. "You really think we can fight them?"

Reynold stopped pacing, looking Jeric dead in the eye.

"We don’t have a choice."

Outside, the wind howled through the broken windows, rattling loose sheets of metal. It sounded almost like laughter.

Jeric sank down onto a dusty bench, muttering, "Man, I should’ve stayed in accounting..."

Reynold allowed himself the ghost of a smile. It didn’t last long.

His mind turned back to Zephany.

He needed a plan. And fast.

He couldn’t warn her directly—that would only paint a bigger target on her back. No, he needed to move in the shadows, just like Cassius. Just like the Diamonds.

"You’ll need to rest," Reynold said finally. "Tomorrow, we find out who’s really running this game."

"And if they find us first?" Jeric asked.

Reynold picked up a rusted crowbar lying near the door, testing its weight in his hand.

"Then we make them regret it."

The two men sat there in the broken silence of the abandoned shop, the night pressing close around them.

Outside, unseen, the city stirred.

And far away, in some hidden place, Cassius Varen watched another screen flicker to life.

Smiling.