Jack’s jaw clenched as Vincent’s hand pressed to his chest, the cold ring of steel restraints locking around his wrists behind his back. He could feel the hum of energy already building in the room—the air thick with anticipation, like lightning waiting to strike.
Emily stood a step behind Vincent, eyes lowered but not in shame. In surrender.
“This is how it ends?” Jack muttered, voice low. “In a rotted lab with ghosts watching from the corners?”
Vincent chuckled, slow and deliberate. “You always romanticized your downfall, Jack. But no, this is just where you end. The war keeps going.”
Emily flinched, just barely.
Jack’s gaze flicked to her. “You gonna say something? Or just keep playing both sides until you forget who you are?”
She met his eyes at last, and something old and jagged
