**Chapter 1: The Fatal Sacrifice**

Darren's world crumbled around him as he pushed Marcy behind him, shielding her from the hail of bullets. He felt a searing pain in his chest, and his vision began to blur. He tried to keep his footing, but his legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the cold, hard ground. As he lay there, he saw Marcy's face contorted in a mixture of horror and despair. She rushed to his side, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Darren, no! Oh, God, no!" she whispered, her voice shaking. With his last ounce of strength, Darren reached out and grasped her hand. "Marcy... I'm sorry... I couldn't... protect you," he gasped, his words barely audible. Marcy's grip on his hand tightened. "You did protect me, Darren. You saved my life." As Darren's eyes began to close, he saw a figure approaching them. A man with a scar above his left eyebrow and a gun still clutched in his hand. The man's eyes locked onto Marcy, and a sly smile spread across his face. Marcy's expression changed in an instant. Her tears dried, and her eyes took on a glassy sheen. She leaned in close to Darren, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Darren. You were always so brave." The man with the scar reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair behind Marcy's ear. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her head, and their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss. Darren's eyes snapped open, and a scream built in his throat, but it was muffled by the pain and shock coursing through his body. He tried to move, to react, but he was paralyzed. As he watched in horror, Marcy broke away from the killer and turned to him. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but they weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of lust. She leaned in close, her voice husky. "I'll always remember you, Darren. But I have to take care of myself now." The killer chuckled, a low, menacing sound, and wrapped his arm around Marcy's waist. She didn't resist as he pulled her close, his hand drifting down to her hips. Darren's vision began to tunnel, but he saw enough to know that Marcy was writhing beneath the killer, her body entwined with his. The world went dark, and Darren's consciousness slipped away. But it didn't stay gone for long. Darren's eyes flickered open, and he found himself lying on a bed of leaves in a dense forest. The canopy above him filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. He was disoriented, unsure of how he'd gotten there or how long he'd been gone. As he struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he fell back onto the leaves. His chest ached, and his lungs burned. He gingerly probed his chest, and his fingers brushed against something strange – a bandage, neatly wrapped and secured with medical tape. Darren's mind reeled with questions. How did he get here? Who had saved him? And what had happened to Marcy? The memories of that night came flooding back, and with them, a burning desire for answers – and revenge.