Cherie kept her eyes on the corridor floor as they walked.
The lights overhead buzzed with a tired, inconsistent rhythm, flickering just enough to make every shadow feel like it was moving when it wasn’t. Her wrists were still sore from the zip-ties they’d used earlier, and even though they’d been loosened slightly for the walk, the plastic still bit into her skin every ti she shifted her hands.
Beside her, Saul moved quietly.
He had one arm restrained, the other hanging stiff at his side. His face was still swollen around the eye socket, and dried blood tracked from his nose down to his upper lip. He didn’t look at the guards. Didn’t look at the walls. Just kept pace like he was trying to convince his body that forward was the only direction that mattered.
Cherie swallowed.
The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was crowded. With everything that had happened. Everything that had been said. Everything that had not been said.
She flinched slightly when a door slamd sowhere behind them.
Saul noticed.
Without turning his head, he shifted closer.
Just enough that his shoulder brushed hers.
A small contact. Intentional.
"You didn’t do anything wrong," he said quietly.
Cherie glanced at him imdiately, surprised more by the tone than the words. It wasn’t firm. It wasn’t performative. It was just... there. Like a fact he had decided on without argunt.
Her lips parted slightly, but nothing ca out.
Saul kept walking.
"None of this is on you," he added after a mont. "Not Bill. Not the shooting. Not any of it."
Cherie’s throat tightened. Her eyes flickered down again.
"I should’ve—" she started.
"No," Saul cut in gently, still not looking at her. "Don’t do that."
That made her quiet.
They passed a barred window on their right. Inside, soone coughed hard enough to echo down the corridor.
Saul exhaled through his nose.
"We’re gonna get through it," he said, softer now. "All of it. Just... one step at a ti."
Cherie finally looked at him properly.
Like she was trying to figure out if he believed it.
He didn’t look back, but his hand shifted slightly—just enough to tap her wrist where the restraint dug in.
A small reassurance.
Nothing more.
But it was enough to keep her walking.
—
My breath was shaky for a mont.
Then it cald down.
Harry stood a few feet away from with the gun aid directly at my face, and for the first ti since seeing him again, I realized sothing ugly.
He wasn’t that terrified kid anymore.
Not the boy shaking with grief while I stood over his father’s body.
Not the sa person who swung wildly at in Texas while screaming through tears.
Sowhere between then and now, sothing inside him had hardened.
And the worst part?
He knew it too.
The gun never trembled in his hand.
"Started in Texas," he finally said.
His voice was rough from running. Sweat rolled down the side of his face while distant shouting echoed sowhere deeper in the city.
"Followed you through multiple states," he continued quietly. "Just for this mont."
I said nothing.
Gave him nothing.
My eyes stayed on the barrel.
"And now?" he muttered.
The gun shifted toward Lila.
She groaned weakly against the pavent, blood sliding from the side of her head in thick streaks. One eye barely opened. Her fingers twitched uselessly near her stomach.
"That little freak can’t save you like she did last ti."
I smiled.
Small.
But real.
That was my opening.
"You serious?" I asked.
Harry’s jaw tightened.
"You chased across the country just to stand there hiding behind a gun?"
I tilted my head slightly.
"That’s disappointing."
His expression twitched.
"You know what I think?" I continued. "I think you’ve spent so long fantasizing about killing that you forgot what happened the last ti you actually tried."
Naomi slowly pushed herself up against the wall nearby, holding her stomach from Harry’s kick. Her breathing looked painful.
She stayed quiet.
Watching.
"I beat your ass while going easy on you," I said. "You rember that? Or did grief scramble your brain?"
Harry’s nostrils flared.
"You had your little emotional breakdown, swung at like a fucking animal, and I still walked away."
I took one slow step forward.
"You know what your dad’s problem was?"
Naomi looked at sharply.
Harry’s face changed instantly.
"He thought being angry made him dangerous."
Another step.
"But anger just makes people stupid."
Harry clenched the gun tighter.
"You wanna know the funniest part?" I asked softly. "I don’t even think he hated when he died."
That hit him.
I saw it.
"He was scared," I continued. "Confused. Looking at you like he knew you couldn’t protect him."
"Shut up," Harry muttered.
"So what now?" I asked. "You gonna prove him right?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP."
"Or are you finally gonna stop hiding behind a trigger and show what all this chasing was for?"
Silence.
Heavy silence.
Then—
Harry dropped the gun.
Naomi’s eyes widened imdiately.
The Glock clattered against the alley floor beside the crowbar.
Lila made another incoherent sound sowhere near my feet, blood bubbling lightly near her temple.
Harry stepped forward.
Hands raised.
Shoulders tight.
Ready.
Sothing warm settled deep in my stomach.
My smile widened.
There you are.
I raised my hands too.
The alley suddenly felt smaller.
Closer.
Neither of us moved for a second.
Rainwater dripped from rusted pipes nearby. Sowhere above us, people shouted across rooftops.
Then Harry lunged first.
Fast.
Faster than before.
His fist ca straight toward my jaw, but I ducked sideways and slamd my elbow into his ribs imdiately. I felt the impact travel up my arm.
Hard.
Harry grunted but grabbed my hoodie before I could pull away.
We smashed into the alley wall together.
Brick scraped my shoulder.
His forehead cracked directly against my nose.
Pain exploded through my face.
I laughed anyway.
Harry swung again.
This ti I caught the punch halfway and drove my thumb deep into his healing stab wound from Texas.
Harry scread.
Actually scread.
His body folded instinctively and I kneed him directly in the mouth.
Blood sprayed across the pavent.
Naomi flinched.
Harry stumbled backward holding his face, but he didn’t stay down. He ca back swinging wildly, rage taking over again.
Good.
That was good.
I slipped under another punch and grabbed the back of his shirt before slamming him face-first into the wall.
His cheek scraped hard against brick.
He shoved backward instantly, knocking both of us to the wet ground.
The impact rattled my skull.
Harry got on top first.
His fist crashed into my eye once.
Twice.
Three tis.
White light burst behind my vision.
I grabbed his ear and bit down hard.
Harry roared in pain.
The taste of blood flooded my mouth imdiately.
He jerked backward instinctively and I used that second to flip him underneath .
My fists started landing now.
Jaw.
Temple.
Nose.
I didn’t even think anymore.
The lattice humd hot behind my skull.
Not loud.
Just enough.
Enough for everything to sharpen.
Harry tried blocking, but he was angry now. Sloppy.
Predictable.
He grabbed for my throat.
I imdiately hooked two fingers into the cut near his ear from the bite and tore downward.
Harry bucked violently beneath .
I headbutted him.
Once.
Again.
Again.
His nose exploded red.
Then suddenly—
Pain.
Harry drove his thumb directly into my eye socket.
I recoiled hard enough for him to shove off completely.
We both staggered upright breathing like animals.
Blood covered both of us now.
Harry spit red onto the pavent.
"You think..." he wheezed, "you’re so kinda fucking monster?"
I wiped blood from under my eye.
"No," I replied honestly.
Then I rushed him.
Harry swung imdiately.
I ducked low.
Too low.
He didn’t expect it.
My shoulder slamd into his stomach and carried him straight into a dumpster hard enough to dent it.
The sound echoed through the alley.
Harry coughed violently as air left his lungs.
I grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the tal once.
Twice.
The third ti, he caught my wrist.
Barely.
His eyes looked glassy now.
Desperate.
I could tell he was tiring.
That was the problem with emotional fighters.
They burned themselves out.
Harry suddenly tackled again before I could capitalize.
We crashed into trash bags and dirty water.
His fist hit my throat.
I elbowed his neck.
He punched my ribs.
I jamd my fingers directly into the healing wound near his side again.
Harry scread through clenched teeth and swung blindly.
That was the opening.
I caught his arm.
Twisted.
Then drove my knee upward directly toward his face.
Harry barely blocked it.
Barely.
But the impact still rocked him backward.
I saw it imdiately.
The hesitation.
The fear creeping in.
There it is.
I moved fast.
Too fast.
I grabbed the discarded crowbar from the pavent before he could react.
Harry’s eyes widened.
For the first ti during the entire fight—
Real fear.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Fear.
I raised the crowbar high.
Harry tried getting up—
Then suddenly—
Sothing slamd into from the side.
Hard.
The crowbar flew from my hands.
My face smashed into freezing concrete before three different bodies piled onto my back instantly.
"What the fuck—?!"
Hands grabbed my wrists violently.
A knee drove into my spine.
"DON’T MOVE!"
"GET HIM DOWN!"
"STOP FUCKING RESISTING!"
I thrashed imdiately.
Pure instinct.
My cheek scraped against wet pavent while soone forced my arms behind my back hard enough to nearly rip my shoulder out.
"What the fuck?! LET GO OF —"
A boot pressed against the back of my neck.
Cold tal handcuffs snapped around one wrist.
Then the other.
Nearby, Naomi shouted as soldiers restrained her too.
Harry coughed violently sowhere beside .
And Lila—
Lila wasn’t moving much anymore.
Two soldiers lifted her carefully from the ground while blood soaked through their gloves.
The alley was suddenly full.
Flashlights.
Weapons.
Orders.
Radios crackling.
I struggled again before another hand forced my head sideways against the pavent.
That was when I saw her.
Jennifer.
Standing near the alley entrance beneath flickering yellow lights.
Watching .
Watching all of us.
And for so reason—
Sothing in my chest loosened when I saw her there.
—
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