The red and blue lights bled across the asphalt, flickering off the shattered windows of Aurion Industries.
The night air reeked of smoke, metal, and fear.
Alaric and Evans stood frozen at the edge of the lot, hands raised, surrounded by the sharp click of loaded rifles and the mechanical hiss of radios.
Every shout from the officers seemed to blur together—"Don't move!" "On the ground!" "Now!"—until it all faded into white noise in Alaric's head.
Evans whispered, trembling, "Alaric, what do we do?"
Alaric's mind was racing. The documents—the truth about Subject 017—still burned in his memory. They had only glanced at them before the alarms went off, but the image of that page wouldn't leave his mind.
"Evans," he said quietly, barely moving his lips. "Your phone… do you still have it?"
Evans blinked, confused. "Yeah, why—?"
"Get the file photo. Subject 017. We can't leave without proof."
Evans stared at him. "Are you insane? They're right there! If they see me—"
"Then I'll make sure they don't."
Before Evans could protest, Alaric slowly lowered one hand, pretending to scratch his arm. A faint ripple of gold pulsed beneath his sleeve—just enough to make the lights around them flicker for half a second. The officers flinched, turning their attention fully on him.
Evans understood. His hands shook as he slipped the phone from his pocket and quickly opened the camera app, tilting it toward the folder still peeking from Alaric's jacket.
A quick click—flash off—and the photo was saved.
"Got it," Evans breathed.
Alaric's jaw tightened. "Good. Now listen carefully.
Before Evans could ask, Alaric stepped forward, hands raised higher. "It's me!" he shouted. "It was all me! I broke in—I forced him to come!"
Evans' head snapped toward him. "Alaric, what?! No!"
The officers shouted for them to get down, guns steady. Alaric didn't flinch. He looked at Evans, voice low but steady.
"You still have a chance to get out of this. You've got the proof. Show it to someone you trust. But if you get arrested with me, it's over."
Evans shook his head fiercely, his voice cracking. "I'm not leaving you! You think I'm just gonna—"
Alaric cut him off sharply. "Evans, listen! You said it yourself—I'm unstable. If they test me, they'll find out what I am. And then… they'll come for you too."
The silence between them was deafening. The police were closing in, shouting commands, but neither of them moved.
Evans' voice broke. "Alaric, stop talking like that. We'll find a way, we always do—"
"No, not this time." Alaric's eyes shimmered faintly gold under the flashing sirens. "This time, I take the hit."
He stepped away from Evans, slowly kneeling to the ground. His hands touched the cold pavement, surrendering. Sparks still danced faintly under his skin, like dying embers.
"Don't shoot!" one of the officers yelled. "He's going down!"
Evans felt his chest tighten. "You're making a mistake—"
"Maybe," Alaric said softly, glancing back with a faint smile, "but at least it's mine to make."
Officers swarmed in, pinning Alaric's hands behind his back. The cuffs clicked shut, the metallic sound echoing in Evans' ears like a gunshot.
"Wait—he didn't do anything!" Evans shouted, trying to push forward, but another officer restrained him.
"Kid, stay back!" the officer barked.
Alaric looked over his shoulder as they hauled him toward one of the patrol cars. His face was calm—too calm. The faint golden glint in his eyes was gone now, replaced by a strange acceptance.
Evans tried to reach him one last time. "You can't do this! You don't have to—"
Alaric shook his head slowly. "You still have the photo, right?"
Evans nodded through clenched teeth.
"Then that's enough."
The officers pushed Alaric toward the car, but he turned one last time, voice barely a whisper that only Evans could hear.
"Tell my mom…" He paused, the words catching in his throat. "…tell her I died in a car accident."
Evans froze. "What are you talking about—no! You can't—"
But the door slammed shut, drowning out his voice. The sound of the locks clicked, final and cold.
Through the car's tinted window, Alaric could see Evans standing there, trembling, the phone clutched in his hands. The red-and-blue lights painted his face in flashes of guilt and fear.
Inside the police car, Alaric leaned back, staring at his cuffed wrists. The hum under his skin had vanished.
For the first time, he felt empty.
The officer in the front radioed something about "two suspects" and "containment."
Alaric tuned it out. His eyes drifted to the distant glow of Aurion Industries, shrinking as the car rolled away.
He thought of his mother — her warm humming in the kitchen, the way she smiled when he said he'd be careful.
And he whispered under his breath,
"I'm sorry, Mom."
Evans stood alone as the cars disappeared down the street. The sirens faded into the night, leaving nothing but silence and the faint static smell of burnt air.
He pulled out his phone, staring at the photo — the words Subject 017 – Termination Recommended glowing on the screen.
His hand trembled, tears threatening to fall. "You idiot," he muttered, voice breaking. "You heroic, reckless idiot…....It was my fault only my fault.....if i didn't Suggested This it would never happened "
Then he slipped the phone into his pocket and looked back at the facility's towering shadow.
"This isn't over," he whispered.
And with that, he turned and vanished into the dark — carrying the truth, and the weight of the promise Alaric had forced him to keep.