I gingerly pried open my heavy lids, only to be greeted by the stark, sterile white of the hospital bedsheet enveloping me. I blinked repeatedly, shielding my eyes from the blinding light streaming through the windows. I then tried to move my head left but the cervical collar on my neck restricted my movement and a searing pain radiated from my throat, making the entire situation I was in feel like an absolute nightmare.

Glancing to my right, I noticed the IV solutions being administered to me. I then cast my gaze on the solemn figures of my family members in the room, I couldn't help but wonder, "What the hell happened here?" The last memory which etched in my mind was being with Ruth in the bush.

As I struggled to figure out what happened, a throbbing ache in my head stopped me—as if it were a warning sign. And I saw the figure of Thomas gently approaching towards me.

"You've been lucky, Lucas," said Thomas with a furrowed brow. He approached the more.
"It's not the time." Dante interrupted.
"Are you questioning me?" Thomas snapped, his authoritative voice causing Dante to recoil and return his gaze towards Lander who was also there seated shivering. "Lucas Darwell, you made me leave my comfort zone to retrieve you from... the vast forest... all because of a girl? What happened with everything you've learned these past months? What a disgrace," he sighed, removing his sunglasses and adjusting his silver-gray hair.

"Be fast in your recovery. Maybe you'll need to start a new self-defense class. You must be strong. I can't watch your back all the time... you know how dangerous Wellington is." Thomas urged, his tone softening. "You were lucky this time, I shot her on time, but who knows what it would be like the next time?—I'm leaving with Lander, Dante will stay here with you."

The words of my father hit me hard. I did wanted to be stronger but didn't wanted to start such a class. As he departed with Lander, Dante drew nearer.

"Did he... kill her?" I managed to utter, my voice barely audible.
"That's not important now. Bro, you scared us this morning, but it seems you're doing better now," he reassured me. "You also ruined Dad's birthday celebration. I'm surprised he didn't scold you."
"I-is she...?"
"It's probably best if you don't speak so your neck can heal faster. If you strain yourself, you could damage your larynx. I'll be here if you need anything. And no, Dad didn't kill her," Dante explained before settling into a chair, engrossed in his phone.

I couldn't fathom why Ruth Reynors, Allegra's sister, would pursue me in such a manner. I didn't know where she removed her conclusions but even after that, relief still washed over me at the news that she hadn't perished. If she just knew I was trying to make justice for my Tabby...

Ruth Reynors, Allegra's elder sister, was a fitness enthusiast who had an affinity for weightlifting. As far as I knew, she had never been romantically involved, deeming it a waste of time. Aside from her dedication to the gym, she cherished her pet, Mindy, a corn snake (Pantherophis guttatus). Allegra confided in me about Ruth's alexithymia, a psychosomatic condition that hindered her from expressing emotions, rendering her a mysteriously enigmatic figure and an unchanging facial expression.

Our relationship with Ruth had been odd but enjoyable, yet the Ruth I encountered that day, the one of the library, bore no resemblance to the person I knew. She exuded a level of cruelty that rivalled the members of the Lethal Heptagon. Everything about her had changed, and I struggled to recognize the person I had spent months with.

Minutes kept going and I was just listening to Dante's notifications and looking at the white ceiling just wishing to recover and get up from the damn bed as soon as possible.

"Very soon it'll be late. I'll go home now. There's a guard that will stay here, he is at the door. You have some yoghurt cans there for you to eat if you're hungry. Get better bro," Dante said and left.

Minutes after, I felt the need to pee. I got out of bed with a lot of struggle maintaining my head balanced and without moving my itchy neck. I carried the bottle containing the IV solution and walked towards the door, my movements resembling that of a wounded soldier trudging through mud. On seeing me after I opened the door, the guard ushered me to the restroom. I quickly peed when I reached and decided to return back, on doing It caught a glimpse of my bruised and battered face in the mirror, a sight that made me wince. This, and the silly apron I had on.

"You need to recover fast, Lucas. You have no time to waste." I urged to myself internally as I pushed aside the sorry state of my face and returned to the room.

Seconds after I reached the room and plopped into the bed again a doctor strode in. "Lucas Darwell?"

I raised my left thumb up.
"Your case isn't too serious, we've sent your results to your father. Seeing the rate of your recovery by tomorrow afternoon you'll be discharged and by next tomorrow the wound should almost be cured. The neck brace would be removed tomorrow as well. You need to rest for now for the administered medication should work smoothly." He gazed at me serious making me smirk. "The analgesic medication is already finishing, the nurse will come soon to change the IV solution to a fresh frozen plasma medication to aid blood clotting in the wounded area. Everything will be okay, just sleep."

The Doctor left and the nurse barged immediately in the room. She swiftly replaced the IV solution as if it were all part of a well-choreographed routine and then left as well.

Despite the doctor's orders to rest, sleep eluded me. I laid there, staring at the ceiling in disdain as the darkness crept in. Weak and disgusted with my situation, I muttered to myself, "The night will be long," before reaching for a remote control I hadn't noticed before. I quickly grabbed it and powered on the television in front of me on the wall. As it was setting I grabbed a yogurt and spoon, attempting to distract myself from the grim reality.

"Terrible images we see today in the Winston neighborhood in Wellington. Today, Sunday, 21st January, the sect has taken the lives of five couples, each of them with a shot in the forehead." The horrible images, blurred on some parts, kept passing as the news caster continued. "They bombed up the houses leaving the victims burned and their neighbors terrified, uncertain of who will be the next. Relatives have denounced the disappearance of the victim's children, which in total are twelve of them. We hope that the Wellington police will take action against this terrorist group as soon as possible."

"Yeah, it all happened minutes ago," said a press member in the crime scene, "the neighbors called the police at eight after hearing the continuous explosion of five consecutive bombs. They are terrified and not able to speak right now. The police officers, detectives and forensics are here in the crime scene trying to find out at least a clue that the sect might have left during the tragic event."

I shut the television after hearing all that, not wanting to hear anymore. I grasped my phone and seven missed calls and a voice note from Marc drew my attention. I immediately went on and put the note.

"Lucas, where are you. There's an information I didn't told you the last time," he stopped and a background voice was heard. "yes boss I'm coming," he said, as if being persecuted by someone, "I need to leave, we'll talk later."

The minutes passed and I couldn't fall asleep. Marc's message even worsened the case leaving me unsettled. I spent time listening to the beep of the machine that was next to me and seeing that whitish ceiling. I then opted to chat with Dante, who had messaged me earlier. We spent time speaking and he then added me to the group of his friends. It was called "The Resistance." I spent like an hour entertained there, I initially thought it was a random, nerd or book club group. And I wasn't wrong, not totally. They spoke about a little of everything. Including the country's situation.

A sudden creak emerged from the door amidst the darkness. I wondered who would be visiting me by that time. I left my phone and asked whether it was the doctor, but the strange figure that was coming inside the room seemed dumb.

The man came in front of me with bowed head and I began to get out from bed, but then I realized he was wearing the guards uniform. I calmed down and the torrential storm that was built in my inner body did the same.

"Remind me, Arthur." The man raised his head.
I got out of the bed removing the bedsheet that covered me warily. "Who the fuck..." My throat ached as I yelled.

On an attempt to raise my right hand furiously to punch him—the hand that was connected to the IV solution—a sudden pain that made me exclaim a voiceless "Damn" was generated. My left hand instinctively held my right wrist, the man came nearer and a dagger shone in front of me.

"Don't shout... or you will face the consequences."

I raised my left hand and tried to punch the man, but he held it with his palm and said, "That won't function with me either. So don't try it. Just listen to what I'll say."

"What the fuck..." I pondered. "How do I escape this psychopath? Gosh!"

"I'm not Arthur. Sorry you might be confused. My name is Lucas, your Arthur might be somewhere else." I stuttered hardly and the pain in my throat got deeper.
"Arthur is here," he said, his voice perched with assurance "you are Arthur Darwell."

"You're crazy, Guard..." I said voiceless, I couldn't even hear my voice.
"I'm your new guard. Your father was looking for personnel, so why not accept the opportunity?" He played with the dagger. "Arthur, you will come with me. Just get ready, nephew." He said and got out of the room.

After the unsettling encounter I went back to bed. My thoughts raced, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread. It wasn't until later that night, as I recalled the document from Dante and the incident at the psychologist's office, that I made a startling connection between the guard, Hector Strone and my mother, Melanie Strone. They had the same surname. The realization left me reeling.

[Marc]

It was the witching hour, the dark sky draped in a blanket of midnight blue, as if the night itself was holding its breath. My task was grim—capturing the stark images of the charred remains and the desecrated crime scene. With each snapshot, a seed of frustration blossomed within me, growing like an unruly weed. It was my first encounter with such a harrowing event and I trembled as I snapped those horrifying pictures. I began to comprehend the weight of Lucas' previous experiences and the reason he struggled to find the sect, what they were doing had no name.

Once the forensics had completed their meticulous work, the lifeless forms were tenderly loaded into the waiting ambulance. The haunting wails of neighbors and grieving relatives, who had gathered despite the unforgiving lateness of the hour, clawed at my senses, dredging up memories of my own loss. That chilling day at Claudial when I arrived home after being out with my friends for the whole day; just to meet two dead bodies on the couch with gunshots on the head, forever frozen in front of the television. The thought was distressful.

As the hands of the clock marched towards the small hours, the lieutenant finally released our section from the scene, granting us a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere. I felt a surge of relief flooding through me, knowing that I could escape that haunting place. In that moment, I realized that I would gladly wade through mountains of paperwork rather than bear witness to the raw brutality of such scenes. As we left the other officers to continue their work, my comrades and I gratefully stepped into our boss's car, yearning for the solace of distance.

He left others in their homes and he revealed that there was an important matter that demanded our attention. Anxious and curious, I braced myself for the impending conversation as we journeyed onwards.

Soon, the car came to a halt in the parking floor, and we made our way into his abode. The tranquility of his home enveloped us, a stark contrast to the chaos I met the previous day, where his cute naughty twin daughters rumbled through the four corners of the house making noice with their toys. They were surely sleeping with their mother by then.

We ventured into his private office, a space that resembled a high-tech crime lab, brimming with state-of-the-art equipment. The previous day when I first entered the place for the job he offered me I looked stupid and was ignorant of almost all the implements found there, but my boss, patiently elucidated their functions, although not every detail had sunk in.

He sat at his office chair and I sat opposite him.

"I saw how inefficient you worked today. Is it something personal?"
"No, boss, it isn't." I said, trying not to delve in the loss of my deceased parents.
"Hope so... If you want to become a good cop, then you need to separate your feelings from your job. I know it feels bad to see how families get destroyed because of others. The only thing we can do is make justice for the victims finding their aggressors and making them suffer the wrath of justice." He said and then took a book under his desk and handed it to me. "'Emotional Survival' by Kelvin Gilmartin, it will help you manage the emotional challenges of police work."

"Thanks, boss."
"This is not the reason I called you for, by the way." He got up and gestured me to follow him. "I guess you know how all systems here work by now." He walked towards a mainframe computer at the large room.
"I guess, boss."

"There's nothing by you guess. You know it all, and there's a manual there for further investigations in case you forget something or need advanced knowledge in them." He pointed at a bookshelf near his desk.

"I can't send you on this journey. It's dangerous for you. I don't want you to have the same end as my last loyal comrade. Most of what I know of the sect: structure, modus operandi, sites of action is all thanks to him. Now I myself will go, I need to confirm certain idea. You will follow me on the way from here and if anything gets bad, I'll give you a number to contact. She will aid you and that your friend to finish my work."

I looked perplexed.
"But don't worry, that would be the last thing that could happen. Leave you, young men, finish with that experienced group of thugs is insane. Everything will surely go well."

Author's Note

Hey guys. How was the chapter? Hope you love it. If so, don't forget to leave your precious votes and comments. I'll highly appreciate it. Stay tuned for more updates. Peace out.🤙🏿