Footsteps.
Rapid. Uneven. Coming fast.
They all froze.
Owen raised his flashlight.
From the darkness ahead, someone was sprinting toward them.
It took only a second for them to recognize the silhouette—
Victor.
But something was wrong.
He wasn't charging at them, he was not aggressive or smug.
He was stumbling. Panicked.
His breathing echoed off the walls in broken rasps, a man fleeing something far worse than fear itself.
Owen instinctively took a step forward, raising his arm. Samuel stepped protectively ahead of Ava, who grabbed onto his arm to look for support, her grip tight like she needed to anchor herself.
Victor skidded into view under the faint glow of their flashlights—and stopped dead when he saw them.
He was drenched in sweat. His eyes were wide, wild.
Every breath came like he was drowning in air.
His clothes were half torn, like he'd fallen—no, rolled—through something brutal.
Samuel immediately raised his voice.
"Victor? What the fuck— what happened?!"
Victor didn't answer. He hunched over, hands on his knees, trying to breathe.
Trying to calm down.
Behind him, Sierra clutched Evelyn, her eyes vacant, her entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
Evelyn's face was pale. Silent. She held Sierra's hand but wasn't comforting her—if anything, she looked like she needed the support just as much.
Owen moved next to Samuel, his brows drawn in tight concern.
"Victor, are you okay?" he asked, his voice urgent but not sharp. "Did something happen?!"
Victor still hadn't responded.
His chest kept rising and falling, a thousand miles per second.
Callen and Lawren were the last to step forward, standing just far enough not to crowd but close enough to show support.
Lawren kept his voice calm.
"Are you good…?"
He asked it like a soldier, quiet and respectful, but his eyes searched Victor's face for anything—any sign of what was chasing him inside.
Victor didn't answer.
He just looked at them.
At Samuel.
And that's when Samuel noticed it.
Victor wasn't just scared.
He looked broken.
Not hurt. Not scratched. But shaken.
And Victor didn't shake.
Ava was still hiding slightly behind Samuel, her breath quiet but uneven. She peeked out from behind his shoulder, eyes locked on Victor like she expected him to collapse any second.
Samuel's voice lowered, more serious now.
"What did you see…?"
Victor's lips parted slightly.
But no words came out.
Victor's voice cracked as it broke the silence.
"I— I'm really sorry, guys… I— Just… please listen to me, I beg you…"
That tone—
It wasn't the Victor they knew.
This wasn't the sarcastic menace who always stood tall, always had a sly grin, always seemed unfazed by chaos.
This Victor sounded… fragile.
Broken.
Everyone exchanged glances.
Sierra, still holding onto Evelyn, blinked rapidly, clearly unnerved. Evelyn furrowed her brows, her lips parted like she wanted to ask but couldn't even form the words. Neither of them had ever seen Victor like this—not even close.
It was Owen who stepped forward first, his voice calm but steady.
"Okay, okay… calm down, Victor. It's alright now. You're safe."
Samuel, still eyeing Victor carefully, added,
"Yeah. We're here now. Just sit down… and tell us what happened."
Victor staggered back a step, inhaled deeply through his nose, and finally, slowly, let the air out.
His breathing slowed, but the fear didn't leave his face. It was etched into his features like it had scarred him.
He rubbed his face harshly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. His fingers ran through his messy hair, setting it back—not to look good, but to regain some control.
Then, with quiet steps, he moved toward the group.
Nobody stopped him.
They all watched him with a strange mixture of caution, curiosity, and... sympathy. Even the ones who didn't trust him. Even the ones who hated him a few minutes ago. Because right now?
Victor didn't look like the problem.
He looked like the warning.
He sat down on the cold floor, right in the center of them.
Everyone instinctively formed a rough circle around him.
No one said a word.
They just… waited.
The air felt heavy, like something was crawling beneath the surface of reality. The flickering beams of their flashlights cast uneasy shadows along the walls—like the prison itself was holding its breath.
Victor looked up slowly, his eyes moving from Samuel to Owen, to Ava, to Sierra and Evelyn, to Lawren and Callen, before lowering them again.
He swallowed hard.
And for a moment, it felt like they were sitting around a campfire in a horror story.
Only this time… the horror was real.
And it was chasing him.
Victor opened his mouth—
But nothing came out.
He pressed his lips together, clenched his fists briefly, then exhaled.
And finally, with a trembling voice, he said, "I— I was with N-Noa…"
His eyes shifted toward Sierra and Evelyn.
The moment he said her name, their expressions changed instantly—like he'd dropped a live wire in the middle of the room.
Sierra's brows snapped together, her eyes wide and sharp. Evelyn's grip on her arm instinctively tightened.
"What…?!" Sierra snapped, her voice cracking with alarm and dread. "What happened to her?!"
The panic in her voice was immediate. Fierce.
Like she already knew something was wrong.
Evelyn quickly reached for her, gently pulling her back, trying to ground her. "Wait—Sierra, listen… just listen, okay?"
Her own voice was trembling, but steadier. She was trying to keep it together for the both of them.
Sierra clenched her jaw, her hands balled into fists, but nodded. Barely.
Victor swallowed hard, his face twisted in guilt.
His voice dropped into a whisper.
"I'm… I'm sorry, you two… I really am. But she… she didn't make it out alive."
Silence.
It hit like a hammer.
The words just hung there in the air. And then the silence cracked.
Sierra's lips parted slightly, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
Her body locked in place, then slowly, like something fragile breaking—she crumbled.
Her hands flew to her face, and a sharp, choked sob escaped her. The kind that came straight from the stomach.
It wasn't loud—but it was devastating.
Evelyn's eyes widened in horror. "No…" she whispered, like if she said it quietly enough, it might undo reality.
She caught Sierra as she collapsed into her arms, the disbelief painting her face as clearly as the pain. Her mouth hung open, like she wanted to say more, but no words came.
Owen blinked fast, stepping forward slightly, confused and tense. "W-wait… what happened?" he asked, his voice small—like he didn't want to believe it either.
Ava stood frozen, her hands near her mouth.
"Did the—did the Warden take her…?" she asked, almost breathlessly. Her voice quivered. The word Warden sent a ripple of unease through the air.
Samuel still hadn't said anything. But his eyes…
There was a flicker. A visible shift.
Worry.
Guilt.
Anger.
He clenched his jaw, eyes locked on Victor, his knuckles white at his sides.
Noa wasn't just a name.
She was a person to all of them.
And to Sierra and Evelyn—she was family. A voice, a smile, a presence that had made the phases bearable.
Now gone.
Victor didn't look away.
He didn't defend himself.
He didn't try to soften it.
He just sat there—his shoulders hunched, his face pale, and eyes full of regret—as the weight of what he said crashed down on the group like a wave.
No one moved.
The silence returned, but this time…
It was mourning.
The kind of silence that lingers in the aftermath of loss.
The kind that soaks into your bones and stays with you.
And Victor knew—no matter what he said next, this moment would change everything.
Sierra was still crying, her body trembling in Evelyn's arms, while Evelyn herself looked completely frozen—like her mind hadn't fully caught up with the words.
Her voice came out low… barely even a whisper.
"...How…?"
Victor looked up slowly, meeting her eyes just for a second before lowering them again.
"She… responded to the whispers…"
His voice cracked around the edges, strained from holding back whatever storm was still inside him.
Sierra's head snapped up like she'd been slapped.
The rage boiled over.
"BUT COULDN'T YOU STOP HER?!" she screamed, lurching toward him.
She slammed into Victor, her fists grabbing his collar, shaking him like her anger could somehow rewind time.
Victor didn't fight back.
He didn't even meet her eyes.
He just looked to the side—his jaw tight, eyes refusing to lift—almost like he couldn't bear to see what he'd caused.
"YOU BASTARD!" she cried out, her voice raw and broken.
The others rushed in—Samuel and Owen grabbing her arms gently, Callen helping steady her from behind, Ava reaching out with a worried hand—but Sierra didn't resist.
Her fight disappeared like a flame snuffed out by grief.
She just let herself fall, collapsing into their arms, her knees hitting the ground as she broke apart completely.
Sobbing—loud, messy, desperate.
The kind of sobbing that sounded like she was trying to pull Noa back with every breath.
Evelyn stood where she was, her arms tightly crossed over her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.
Her eyes stared ahead, unblinking, tears silently streaming down her cheeks.
She didn't make a sound.
She didn't need to.
The silence around her said everything.
Victor sat there, still in the center, still wrecked.
He rubbed his face, his hands trembling faintly, before finally whispering,
"I am… I am really sorry, guys…"
There was no defense in his voice. No excuses.
Just guilt.
Raw, heavy guilt.
And as the group stood around him—some comforting Sierra, others silently watching—it became clear…
This loss had changed something.
Not just around them.
But between them.
And Victor…
For the first time in a long time…
Looked human.
No one asked further.
No one wanted to.
Not because they didn't care—but because they were afraid of the answer.
They were too lost in mourning Noa's death…
Too broken to hear any more.
Samuel, Owen, and Ava knelt beside Sierra and Evelyn, trying to offer comfort—but what could they say?
There were no words.
No comfort that could fix this.
Sierra's sobs had quieted into trembling whimpers, her voice lost somewhere between disbelief and despair.
Evelyn sat beside her, still silently crying, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her body cold and unmoving—as if her soul had gone numb.
A little distance away, Callen and Lawren sat beside Victor, who hadn't said another word.
He just stared at the ground with wide, empty eyes.
He looked like he'd seen death—no, felt it.
The kind of trauma that doesn't go away when you close your eyes… it just plays louder.
After what felt like a lifetime of silence, Victor's voice finally broke through.
"Guys… Jace didn't return…?"
His voice was quieter this time.
Careful. Almost dreading the answer.
Samuel's head was lowered, his hands resting heavily on his knees. He didn't respond at first—but then…
"No," he muttered, his tone laced with something dark and bitter. "He asked us to run… because even you ran away like a coward in front of the Warden, you asshole…"
Victor flinched.
But didn't snap back.
Didn't defend himself.
Didn't offer even a glance of pride.
He just looked down, broken again.
"…Sorry, Samuel."
And for the first time—there was no venom in his voice. No mockery. No twisted smile.
Just… remorse.
And Samuel felt it.
That single moment of sincerity.
Victor had never said his name like that before.
Samuel closed his eyes, exhaled slowly.
"…It's okay. Leave it."
The room went quiet again.
Until Sierra spoke, her voice barely held together by threads. "…What about Riley…?"
Her lips trembled with every syllable.
She needed the answer, even if it destroyed her.
Victor looked at her, pained.
"I have no idea… I'm sorry."
The last bit shattered her.
It wasn't just Noa.
Now Riley…
Evelyn's head slowly lowered, her hand brushing the edge of Sierra's sleeve for comfort—but even her fingers trembled.
They were both crumbling under the weight of it.
They didn't say it out loud, but they both believed it now.
Riley was dead too.
Ava tried—desperately—to fight the despair that had filled the room.
"Don't lose hope," she said, her voice small but firm. "She must still be alive… with Mr. Jace. Those two are the only ones left—maybe they're okay."
But Samuel…
He shook his head, eyes tired, lips heavy with sorrow.
"…Let's be real, Ava."
His voice sounded like it was rusted shut, scraping out each word.
"Jace is most probably dead too. There's no way he's surviving the Warden. Not alone."
He paused. Looked at the empty hallway they came from.
"…We've been waiting for over 30 minutes now. It wouldn't take anyone that long to come back. And realistically…"
A beat.
"A fight like that… it wouldn't last that long. Not unless he was losing. Or already gone."
The air felt colder after he said it.
Like a final nail had been driven into something sacred.
Owen, standing nearby, lowered his gaze.
"…You're not wrong," he said quietly.
Samuel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hand covering his face.
His eyes stared at the ceiling like he was searching for some meaning in it all—some higher force to scream at.
But nothing answered.
Only the silence.
He exhaled a dry, heavy breath, and then—
He cracked.
The guilt… the weight… Jace's sacrifice—
It overwhelmed him.
He didn't cry like Sierra.
Didn't tremble like Evelyn.
He just sat there, slowly falling apart in silence.
And when Owen saw him—saw Samuel like that—he couldn't hold it in anymore either.
The strongest among them had given everything…
And now, he was gone.
Gone because he chose to save them.
Ava covered her mouth, her voice caught in her throat.
No words.
Just grief.
Sierra wiped her face with her sleeve, her eyes red and puffy.
"So you're saying…" she whispered, "you're saying Riley is dead too…?"
Samuel didn't speak right away.
Then, with a pained nod—
"…Most likely. Yeah."
The words didn't hit like a punch.
They hit like a slow, sinking tide—dragging everyone deeper into the despair they were already drowning in.
Sierra didn't argue.
She couldn't.
She was too tired.
Too broken.
Too done.
And in that moment, it felt like the whole room… had forgotten how to breathe.