"He's coming," the man said simply. "Ghost. He wants you dead."
The words hit harder than any blow. Hayamei's breath caught.
"How did you—?"
"Doesn't matter," the man interrupted. "You're out of time. He knows where you are. And when he finds you, it's over."
Hayamei's mind spun, trying to process the warning, the threat, the inevitable. She was no longer just running for herself—Na'Nami was the prize now, the reason everything could fall apart.
Before she could respond, the man turned and disappeared as silently as he had come, leaving a cold emptiness behind.
Hayamei sank to the floor, heart pounding. No more warnings. No more chances.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, thumb hovering over the name of an old ally—someone who owed her a favor, someone who could help.
But before she could call, the unmistakable sound of a phone ringing shattered the quiet. She glanced at the screen.
Ghost.
The blood drained from her face. She let it ring. Once. Twice. Then silence.
The message came immediately after.
"You can't keep running, Hayamei. Give me my daughter."
Her hands shook as she read the words. A cold rage burned inside her, fierce and unyielding.
No more running. Not tonight.
⸻
Outside, Ghost moved swiftly through the city, his steps measured but urgent. Na'Nami was asleep in his arms, the baby unaware of the storm raging between the two adults who shared her blood.
Ghost's mind was a battlefield. He hated Hayamei for disappearing, for leaving him in the dark. But more than hate was something else—something deeper, buried beneath the years of betrayal and anger.
Na'Nami was his daughter. His blood. And that truth pulled at him, a silent tether he could never cut.
He sent a quick message to his contact—someone watching Hayamei's safe house.
"She's home. Prepare for extraction."
Ghost's dark eyes flickered with something fierce. Tonight would end it all. The hunt, the fear, the running.
⸻
Back in the apartment, Hayamei packed with precision, stuffing clothes and essentials into a worn backpack. Na'Nami was already dressed in soft layers, oblivious to the danger closing in.
Hayamei paused, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's forehead, whispering promises she didn't know how to keep.
"We're done running, baby. I swear."
The sound of glass breaking downstairs froze her blood.
Footsteps. Heavy, purposeful.
Ghost.
Hayamei grabbed Na'Nami, moving toward the fire escape window. The baby stirred but didn't cry.
She climbed out into the cool night air, heart hammering. The streets below were empty—her only chance.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message.
"Stop running. Let me see her."
Hayamei typed back, hands trembling:
"Never."
She slipped into the shadows, disappearing into the night with Na'Nami pressed close.
⸻
The city was a maze, and Hayamei knew every alley, every backstreet. But Ghost was relentless. He tracked her with cold precision, calling in favors, cutting off her options.
She ducked into a deserted subway station, the echoes of distant trains masking her footsteps.
Na'Nami yawned softly, unaware of the life-or-death chase unfolding around her.
Hayamei pulled out a burner phone, calling the ally she had hesitated to contact.
"This is Hayamei. I need help. Now."
⸻
Minutes later, a man appeared from the shadows—tall, muscular, with eyes that held both concern and danger.
"We don't have much time," he said. "Ghost is closing in."
Hayamei nodded, heart pounding. "I can't lose her. Not again."
Together, they moved through the underground tunnels, weaving through forgotten passageways, desperate to stay one step ahead.
⸻
Ghost's voice was a constant shadow in her mind.
"You're mine, Hayamei. You and that kid."
But she would fight. For Na'Nami, for herself.
No more running.
⸻
Hours later, exhausted and battered, Hayamei and her protector reached a safehouse—a rundown warehouse on the city's edge.
Inside, Hayamei sat with Na'Nami in her arms, tears streaming freely. The weight of the night pressed down on her, crushing and relentless.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry you have to live like this."
The door slammed open suddenly, and a figure stepped inside.
Ghost.
"Hayamei," he said quietly. "It's over."
Hayamei's breath caught, fear and defiance clashing inside her.
"It's never over," she said fiercely, clutching Na'Nami tighter.
Ghost's eyes flicked to the baby, and for a moment, something softened.
But then his expression hardened.
"I'm taking her," he said. "With or without you."
⸻
The fight erupted again—desperate, violent. Hayamei's fury burned bright as she battled the man who haunted her past and threatened her future.
But Ghost was stronger, faster. And when the struggle ended, Na'Nami was gone.
Hayamei collapsed to the floor, broken and screaming.
The nightmare wasn't over. It was just beginning.
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