The car was silent—too silent. The kind of silence that pressed against the walls of Leo’s mind, suffocating him with everything he didn’t want to think about. His hands trembled against his lap, fingers twitching uncontrollably as if his body refused to accept what had just happened. His knuckles were raw, clenched so tight his fingernails dug into his palms, but he barely felt it. Beside him, Sara’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, her breathing erratic. The engine’s soft hum barely masked the rapid thumping of her heart. She tried to focus on the road, but every time she blinked, she saw it—Jamal, standing, then collapsing, lifeless. Her foot wavered against the pedal.

  Leo exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. His chest was tight, like something heavy sat on it. “We should’ve done something,” he muttered, his voice hollow.

  Sara swallowed hard, shaking her head. “If we stopped, we’d be dead too.”

  A bitter laugh escaped him. “Maybe we should be.”

  Sara shot him a glare, eyes wet but firm. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

  Leo fell back against the seat, eyes dull. The road stretched endlessly before them, but the past clung to them like an unshakable shadow. The blinding glare of headlights ahead snapped them both from their thoughts. Flashing blue and red lights pierced the darkness—a checkpoint.

  Sara slowed as uniformed officers stepped onto the road, signaling them to stop. The moment the car halted, a cop with a flashlight approached, his expression unreadable. Leo tensed as the beam scanned the hood, stopping at a streak of Jamal’s blood. The officer’s gaze hardened.

  “Sir, ma’am… I need you both to step out of the vehicle.”

  Sara tightened her grip on the wheel. Leo exhaled sharply but complied, pushing the door open and stepping onto the pavement. The officer’s face shifted as he got a good look at Leo. His eyes widened slightly, but not in alarm—in recognition.

  “Leo Masters,” he murmured.

  Leo’s stomach dropped.

  The officer leaned in, lowering his voice. “Listen to me carefully. The entire force is looking for you.”

  Sara inhaled sharply. “For what?”

  “For your protection.” He quickly pulled out a small card and pressed it into Leo’s hand. “Call this number. Don’t ask questions. Just go. You’re not safe here.”

  Leo hesitated. “Who am I calling?”

  The officer glanced over his shoulder, then back at him. “Someone who can help. Now get moving.”

  Sara drove in silence for miles before they finally pulled into a dimly lit gas station. The neon buzzed faintly overhead, the emptiness making Leo’s skin crawl. As he unbuckled his seatbelt, Sara shot him a look.

  “Fill the tank,” he said, stepping out.

  She frowned. “Where are you going?”

  Leo held up the card. “To find a phone.”

  She hesitated but nodded, watching as he disappeared into the station.

  Inside, the air smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap coffee. Leo found a payphone in the corner, his fingers shaking as he punched in the number. He glanced around, hyper-aware of every shadow, every flickering light. His heart pounded like a paranoid deer in a field full of predators.

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  The line clicked. Then, a familiar voice.

  “Leo Masters.”

  Leo’s breath caught. His eyes widened. “Is this Detective Cole? How the hell did you—”

  “This line was made specifically for you,” Cole interrupted. “I also got word you were spotted.”

  Leo swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Then you know what’s happening?”

  “I know you’re in deep shit,” Cole said flatly. “Talk. What the hell happened to your coworkers?”

  Leo’s throat tightened. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Leo—”

  “I DON’T KNOW!” Leo’s voice cracked, his free hand shaking violently. “They’re dead, Cole! Jamal is DEAD! And I have no idea who’s next or who’s behind this!”

  Silence. Then, a sigh.

  “Damn it.”

  Leo’s head pounded. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Cole hesitated. “The remaining survivors—they’re in a safe house. Sara needs to get there, fast. Go to the nearest police station and they'll tell you the address.”

  Leo blinked. “Wait, wait. What about me?”

  A pause. Then, Cole’s voice, colder than before.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Masters… but since you claim to know absolutely nothing, you are now officially wanted under suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder.”

  Leo felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs. “What?”

  “You have twelve hours. Turn yourself in for further questioning.”

  Click. The line went dead.

  Leo’s legs felt like lead as he walked back to the car. Sara was waiting, leaning against the door, arms crossed. Her gaze sharpened.

  “What did they say?”

  Leo clenched his jaw. “I am now a suspect and they want me to turn myself in.”

  Sara’s face fell. “Leo—”

  “I’m not doing it.” His voice was firm, unshakable.

  Sara shook her head. “You’re a fugitive now! If they catch you—”

  “I don’t care,” he snapped. “I’m not walking into a cage while the real killer roams free.”

  Her expression twisted in frustration, her voice breaking. “Damn it, Leo! You can’t do this alone!”

  “I have to.”

  Silence. Then, a shaky breath.

  “…Where will you go?” she whispered.

  Leo looked away. “I don’t know.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “Then let me come with you.”

  “No.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Leo—”

  “I said no.” His voice was hoarse, but his resolve was steel. “You need to go to the safe house Cole has set up for you. Go to the nearest police station and tell them the situation. Please stay alive.”

  She stared at him, breathing unsteady. Then, suddenly, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him.

  For a moment, he stood frozen. Then, slowly, he hugged her back. No words. Just warmth. Just an unspoken goodbye.

  When they pulled away, she wiped her eyes and turned. Leo watched as she got in the car, gripping the wheel tightly. Then, she drove away.

  And he was alone.

  Far away, a conference room—vast, dimly lit, filled with figures clad in dark, elegant attire. Every face obscured by intricate masks, a symbol of their anonymity, their allegiance to something far greater than themselves.

  The air buzzed with quiet anticipation, a gathering of the world’s most powerful minds, all awaiting the entity that had orchestrated this moment.

  A large screen flickered to life, bathing the chamber in an eerie blue glow. The voice that followed was not human.

  "Protocol Nyx: Third Global Assembly Commencing."

  The room fell into complete silence. The voice continued, smooth, modulated, and absolute.

  “Humanity has reached its expiration point. Overpopulation, resource depletion, economic instability, political stagnation. These are not errors. These are inevitabilities.”

  The screen displayed flashing red indicators. Global Instability: 93.6%. Economic Collapse Probability: 81.2%.

  “This cycle ends now.”

  A masked figure spoke. “And how can you be certain?”

  A brief silence. Then Nyx responded.

  “Strength without coordination is weakness.”

  A new projection appeared. Projected Global Resistance: 74.1%. Success Rate of Protocol Nyx: 99.8%.

  “I am war and peace. I am good and evil. I am whatever you believe me to be,” Nyx said, his voice smooth yet chilling. “But one thing I am not… is human.”

  A pause.

  "They rejected me as a god, so I'll return as the devil.”

  The screen flickered. The room remained silent.

  Leo sat on a bench, lost in thought. Maybe turning himself in was the only way to end this. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a fresh burner phone and dialed.

  The line connected.

  Cole’s voice came through. “Leo.”

  Leo exhaled shakily. “I’m done, Cole. I’ll turn myself in.”

  But then—

  “Leo, listen—Sara never arrived.”

  Leo’s breath hitched. “What?”

  “Her car was found. Empty.”

  A cold wave of dread washed over him. His pulse pounded in his ears as he shot up from the bench. “Where is she?!”

  “I don’t know.”

  Then—THUD.

  A sharp pain. Darkness.

  Leo collapsed.

  Blackout.