I found myself sunken against the wall of some filthy alleyway, chest heaving hard enough to hurt.

The place smelled like wet concrete, old piss, and smoke. Water dripped somewhere in the dark with slow, uneven taps. My lungs burned from all the running. Sweat rolled down the side of my face while distant voices echoed through the streets beyond the alley.

Shouting.

Boots.

Radios crackling.

Bill’s people.

Soldiers.

Everybody looking for us.

I dragged a hand through my damp hair and kept my head lowered for a second, trying to breathe through the pounding in my skull.

Fuck, man.

Beside me, Lila’s breathing came fast too.

Naomi stood across from us near the opposite wall, bent slightly forward with her hands on her knees while she tried catching her breath.

Nobody spoke.

Then Lila started laughing.

Quiet at first.

Little breaths.

Tiny cracks in her throat.

I lifted my head slowly.

Her eyes were red again.

Not crying red.

That other kind.

That awful kind.

Naomi noticed too. I saw it happen in real time—the way her exhausted expression slowly twisted into disbelief.

Lila leaned against me, hooking her arm through mine like none of this was real.

"Oh my God," she whispered breathlessly. "What a fucking rush, huh baby?"

Her voice sounded warm.

Happy.

Like we’d just snuck out of some party instead of barely escaping getting our heads blown off.

She pressed herself closer, nuzzling into my shoulder.

I didn’t even have the energy to push her off.

That somehow made it worse.

The alley went quiet again except for distant yelling somewhere beyond the buildings.

Naomi finally scoffed.

Lila ignored her completely, still smiling against me.

"You know," Naomi said sharply, "I genuinely don’t understand what the fuck is wrong with you."

Lila’s fingers tightened around my arm.

Naomi laughed once through her nose.

"You almost got us killed and you’re over here acting like this was fun."

Nothing.

No response.

"You live in your own little fantasy world," Naomi continued. "Blood, violence, people screaming—none of it means shit to you. You treat all this like it’s some game."

Lila finally looked over.

Still smiling.

Naomi pointed toward the street behind us.

"You almost got my fucking head blown off."

A beat passed.

Then Naomi said the thing she shouldn’t have.

"That infection in your head really did a good job turning you into something that’s not even human anymore."

Even I froze.

The words hit the alley and stayed there.

Lila just stared at her.

Smiling.

Seconds passed.

Too many.

I opened my mouth, already feeling the tension turning poisonous—

"Honestly, Naomi..." Lila said softly.

Naomi straightened a little.

Lila tilted her head.

"I should probably thank you."

Naomi frowned.

"If you weren’t such a fucking burden," Lila whispered, "that chase would’ve been soooo boring."

Naomi’s face twisted instantly.

Not anger first.

Hurt.

Real hurt.

Like Lila had reached into her chest and squeezed.

I looked between both of them and suddenly felt exhausted in a way running couldn’t explain.

I was sick of this.

All of it.

The screaming.

The blood.

The way every conversation turned rotten.

The way Lila always smiled at the worst possible moments.

I ripped my arm out of her grip.

Hard.

Lila blinked.

The smile vanished immediately.

"Baby...?"

"I’m not your fucking baby, Lila."

The words came out sharper than I expected.

Her expression cracked.

Actually cracked.

"...what?"

Something ugly rose in my chest.

Not fear.

Not sadness.

Just frustration that had been building for too long.

"You think this shit is funny?" I snapped.

Lila stared at me silently.

"You’re always laughing. Always making jokes. Every single time something horrible happens, you act like it’s exciting!"

Her eyes widened slowly.

I stepped toward her.

"You could’ve gotten us killed back there. Naomi too."

"I saved—"

"No!" I barked.

That shut her up instantly.

The alley fell dead silent.

I pointed toward the street behind us.

"Look around you, Lila!"

My voice echoed off the walls.

"We’re hiding in some disgusting alley while people with guns are hunting us down like animals! Does any of this look normal to you?!"

Her lips parted slightly.

No sound came out.

"You smile through everything," I continued. "People die and you smile. Blood gets spilled and you smile. You scare the shit out of everybody around you and somehow you still don’t get it!"

Lila looked smaller suddenly.

Not physically.

Just...smaller.

Like the air had left her body.

Naomi stayed quiet against the opposite wall, but I caught it.

That tiny twitch near her mouth.

A hidden smile.

Not because she found it funny.

Because someone finally said it.

Slowly, tears started swelling in Lila’s eyes.

She looked away from me.

Then back.

Then away again.

Like she genuinely didn’t know what expression she was supposed to make anymore.

For a second, guilt hit me.

A small one.

Weak.

But with everything happening—everything she’d done lately—it was hard to hold onto it.

I scoffed quietly and pushed myself off the wall.

Naomi followed immediately.

Lila stood a second later too, wiping furiously at her face like she didn’t want anybody seeing.

I let out a long breath.

"Let’s just go," I muttered. "We need to find at least one gun before—"

A sickening crack exploded behind me.

Not a gunshot.

Something heavier.

Wet.

Violent.

I turned—

Lila hit the ground hard.

Blood sprayed across the concrete beside her.

For one horrible second, my brain couldn’t process what I was seeing.

Then I saw him.

Harry.

Standing behind her with a crowbar in his hands.

The metal was red.

Freshly red.

"LILA—!!"

I dropped instantly beside her.

Blood poured from the side of her skull in thick streams, running through her blonde hair and down onto the pavement.

Her eyes fluttered weakly.

Not focusing. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Oh my God—oh my God—"

Before Naomi could react, Harry drove his boot straight into her stomach.

The impact folded her instantly.

"FUCK—!" Naomi choked as she slammed sideways into the wall.

I spun around—

And froze.

Harry already had a gun aimed directly at my face.

Steady hands.

Steady breathing.

No hesitation.

I could hear my own heartbeat.

Lila groaned weakly behind me.

Harry’s expression didn’t change.

"Relax," he said calmly.

I stared at him.

Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move.

To attack him.

To grab something.

Anything.

But the gun never wavered.

"There’s no way," Harry continued coldly, "she gets any crazier after waking up from that."

Blood kept spilling across the alley behind me.

And for the first time in a long time—

I genuinely didn’t know what to do.

—

"Wider," the man muttered.

Cherie gagged around the barrel.

Her jaw trembled violently as she tried to force her mouth open further, tears streaming hot down her cheeks while the cold metal pressed against her tongue. The taste of oil and gunpowder sat thick in the back of her throat.

Bill crouched in front of her like this was all some kind of joke.

"God," he sighed, shaking his head. "You must give terrible blowjobs. I said wider."

The gun shoved deeper.

Cherie choked hard.

A wet sound tore from her throat as spit dribbled down her chin and onto her shirt. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. Every instinct in her body screamed to pull away, but the second she moved too much, Bill’s eyes sharpened.

Not playful anymore.

Dangerous.

Around the room, nobody spoke.

Not the men with rifles.

Not Saul.

Especially not Saul.

He had long since stopped trying to act tough.

Blood still stained his clothes from Jackson. His wrists strained against the people holding him back while tears rolled shamelessly down his face.

"Please..." he rasped. "Please, Bill..."

Bill ignored him.

Cherie’s eyes squeezed shut as another sob escaped her. Humiliation crawled through her skin so badly she thought she might throw up.

Every laugh around her made it worse.

Every stare.

Every second.

Bill slowly tilted the gun inside her mouth like he was inspecting something.

Then he clicked his tongue.

"God damn it," he muttered. "You’re no fun at all."

The barrel slid free with a slick sound.

A string of saliva stretched from the muzzle to Cherie’s lips before snapping onto her chin.

She immediately folded forward coughing, hands trembling against the floor as she tried to breathe properly again.

Then—

BANG.

The doors exploded inward.

Bill’s gun fired on instinct.

The shot grazed past Cherie’s cheek close enough for heat to rip across her skin.

She froze.

Completely froze.

Her mouth hung open soundlessly while ringing swallowed the room whole.

Boots thundered inside.

Rifles raised.

Red dots flooded walls and bodies.

"HANDS! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

"DROP THE FUCKING WEAPONS!"

"ON THE GROUND! NOW!"

The room erupted.

Men shouted over each other.

Metal clattered loudly against the floor as guns were kicked away.

Someone slammed Saul face-first into the wall while he screamed that Jackson needed help.

Cherie couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Her cheek burned.

Her ears rang.

Bill, meanwhile, smiled.

Actually smiled.

"Sorry there, officers," he said casually while two soldiers ripped the pistol from his grip. "I get pretty trigger happy when I’m startled."

Nobody laughed.

One soldier shoved him hard toward the wall while another zip-tied his wrists.

"You think this shit funny?" the man barked.

Bill shrugged. "Depends who you ask."

Cherie slowly raised her hands.

So did Saul.

The room had completely changed in seconds. The same men who had acted untouchable moments ago now looked irritated, nervous, furious as armed security flooded every corner.

One officer glanced around at the civilians, disgust twisting across his face.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "We gotta start weeding out these corrupt assholes. Civilians walking around strapped every damn week now."

Another soldier stepped forward, older than the others. Calm. Professional.

His rifle never wavered.

"Attention," he stated sharply. "By authority of Sector Internal Security Division, all armed personnel present are being detained under emergency civil protection code nine-seven-two."

Nobody answered.

The officer continued anyway.

"Charges currently include unlawful firearm possession within civilian housing sectors, unauthorized vigilantism, assault against protected refugees, reckless discharge of a firearm inside a residential zone, and suspected involvement in unsanctioned militia activity."

At that, the room shifted.

Subtly.

But Cherie noticed.

A few of Bill’s men looked genuinely nervous now.

Bill didn’t.

He only tilted his head slightly.

"Militia activity?" he repeated with amusement. "Sounds kinda badass when you say it out loud."

The officer ignored him.

"You will remain detained pending investigation by military tribunal and civilian oversight review."

"Tribunal?" Bill whistled softly. "Aw, come on now. That sounds expensive."

The butt of a rifle slammed into his shoulder.

Hard.

Bill grunted, smile finally twitching.

"Shut the fuck up," the soldier snapped.

Behind them, medics rushed around Jackson’s body.

Cherie finally looked.

Really looked.

Jackson lay pale against the floorboards, blood bubbling weakly from his mouth while someone pressed gauze against his side. Saul fought violently against the soldiers holding him once he saw them trying to move the body.

"WAIT—WAIT—easy!" Saul shouted brokenly. "Easy, man, easy—"

"He’s alive," one medic barked. "Barely. Move."

The stretcher wheels clattered loudly across the floor.

Cherie stared at the blood trail left behind.

Then she started crying again.

Not loud this time.

Just quiet.

Exhausted.

The kind of crying that came after the body gave up trying to survive humiliation.

One of the officers finally noticed her properly.

The swollen eyes.

The shaking shoulders.

The red graze across her cheek.

His expression hardened instantly when he looked back at Bill.

"...What the fuck did you do to her?"

Bill slowly glanced toward Cherie.

Then back to the officer.

And smiled again.

"Depends," he said softly.

"Which part?"