Yazmina's red heels pounded against the factory floor as she ran, her breath sharp and ragged.

If there was one thing Yazmina was good at-aside from surviving near-death encounters-it was running in heels. She didn't know if it was sheer luck or if her shoes were just that sturdy, but they held up, gripping the slick floor with surprising resilience.

Lucky her.

Unlucky for anyone trying to catch her.

The dim emergency lights flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows along the walls, distorting the figures of the fallen. Behind her, the haunting melody of Boxy Boo's lullaby wove through the air, a cruel reminder that the hunt was far from over.

"Right," Sawyer's voice crackled through a nearby speaker.

She veered sharply, nearly slipping on the slick surface. Blood. Hers? Someone else's? She didn't stop to check.

Ahead, the corridor split into three paths. One led deeper into the factory-toward the main production line, where the Hour of Joy would only worsen. The second was a dead end. The third-

"Straight ahead. Now!" Sawyer barked.

Yazmina didn't hesitate.

As she sprinted forward, a guttural scream rang out behind her. A glance over her shoulder sent a fresh bolt of fear through her veins.

A scientist, one of the doctors from earlier, scrambled on hands and knees, his white coat drenched in crimson. He reached out, his face twisted in agony.

"Help me-please!"

Yazmina faltered for half a second.

Then Boxy Boo dropped from the ceiling.

A monstrous snap of metal coils, a blur of claws, and the doctor was gone. His shriek was cut short-replaced by the sickening crunch of bones.

Yazmina forced her eyes forward and ran harder.

The hallway opened into another abandoned sector of the factory, its machines long dormant. Sawyer's voice returned, low but urgent.

"Do not stop. Not yet."

Yazmina's lungs burned, her vision blurred at the edges. The bullet wound throbbed viciously, but she pushed forward.

"How much farther?" she panted.

"You're close. There's a maintenance passage ahead-take it."

She spotted the rusted door just as another siren wailed through the facility. It was getting worse. The toys are now probably going on rampage.

With the last of her strength, Yazmina threw herself against the door, tumbling inside. It slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang.

Silence.

For the first time since the chase began, she could breathe.

The darkness was suffocating, but she didn't dare move. Outside, distant screams still echoed through the corridors, but for now-just for now-she was safe.

She slumped against the cold metal, pressing a trembling hand to her side. Blood seeped between her fingers. Too much blood.

Then she saw it.

Amidst the debris in the dim light, a glass box lay shattered on the floor. Her stomach twisted.

It was her containment box.

And the scorpion inside?

Gone.

A slow, deliberate click echoed from the darkness.

Yazmina stiffened. Her fingers twitched toward her scissors.

Then, movement.

A small shadow crept over the bloodstained floor, its legs clicking softly against the metal surface.

Her heart pounded.

The scorpion emerged from the darkness, its sleek, venomous body illuminated by the flickering red glow of the emergency lights. It hesitated, its pincers twitching, before inching closer-toward the small droplets of her blood.

It was searching for her.

Drawn to her.

Slowly, carefully, she extended her hand. The scorpion lifted its tail in warning but did not strike. Instead, as if recognizing her, it remained still.

Yazmina exhaled shakily.

Without wasting another second, she scooped it up and carefully tucked it into her doctor's pocket, securing it tightly.

She didn't know what this meant yet.

A quiet bzzt echoed from the corner. She turned, pulse spiking-until she saw the dim glow of a monitor flickering to life.

Sawyer's single white eye stared back at her.

"You don't have much time."

Yazmina let out a bitter, breathless laugh. "No kidding."

He ignored her sarcasm. "There's a first aid kit in the back of the room. Use it."

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

As she crawled toward it, her mind spun. The Hour of Joy had begun. She was infected with something. She had no choice but to go to Playcare.

But one question loomed above all else.

What was going to happen to her now?

She had been injected. Not just shot-experimented on.

Was she going to turn into one of those mindless things? A twisted, hollowed-out monster like the others?

Her fingers curled into fists.

If Pierre and Ritterman had sealed her fate-if they had turned her into something unspeakable-then she would drag them both to the pits of hell with her.

Then-

A creak.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

She turned.

And froze.

Through the cracked doorway, a single glowing eye peered in.

No. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

The sliver of red and blue was unmistakable. The soft whir of coiled springs sent her heart hammering against her ribs.

Boxy Boo had seen her.

Yazmina's blood turned ice-cold.

The music picked up speed.

A metallic whine sounded as Boxy's body coiled tighter, muscles tensed, springs wound too tight-

He was going to lunge.

Instinct took over.

She dove behind a rusted control panel-

𝙲𝚁𝙰𝚂𝙷!

The door burst open, hinges snapping off as the monster launched inside.

Dust and debris exploded into the air. Yazmina flattened herself against the wall, heart hammering, hands clamped over her mouth.

Don't breathe. Don't move.

Boxy's head twitched erratically, his eyes scanning the room. His jaws hung open, rows of jagged teeth gleaming under the emergency lights.

His claws scraped against the floor, methodical. Searching.

The music slowed.

He knew she was here.

Yazmina gritted her teeth, fingers curling into fists. She could hear the creak of his joints, the unsettling rattle of his mechanical insides shifting.

One wrong move, and she was dead.

A shadow moved near the far wall-a loose pipe dangling from the ceiling.

An idea.

Carefully, she reached for a nearby wrench-slowly, as quiet as humanly possible.

She took aim.

And threw.

The wrench clanged against the far end of the room.

Boxy's head snapped toward the noise, his body recoiling-before springing forward, lunging toward the distraction.

That was her chance.

Yazmina bolted, diving through the opposite door just as Boxy whipped around-

But it was too late.

She was already gone.

She ran.

Her pulse roared in her ears, every muscle in her body screaming as she sprinted down the corridor.

Behind her, Boxy let out a mechanical wail of frustration.

She should be dead.

But she wasn't.

A smirk tugged at her lips.

Not yet.

The Hour of Joy had begun.

And she was still standing. Running, technically-but alive.

For now.

She exhaled through her nose, dodging a fallen pipe like this was just another morning jog. Honestly, she's had worse chases.

Because, really-being hunted by a giant killer jack-in-the-box? Got Injected with her own experiment by an idiot? Running for her life in red heels that, against all odds, hadn't broken yet?

It was almost comical.

She glanced back, catching a fleeting glimpse of the monstrous toy disappearing into the shadows.

"Goodbye for now, devil in the box," she murmured with a grin. "Let's do this again sometime-maybe after I've had my coffee."

Then she bolted into the dark, still bleeding, but oddly amused.