The bridge groans, a deep, structural scream of tortured metal that vibrates through the soles of my boots. Outside, the headlights of a hundred cars begin to slide toward the edge as the suspension cables uncoil like dying snakes. But inside this white, sterile box, the air has turned into a vacuum.
Ryker stands there, the silver mask catching the fluorescent flicker, looking like a god of the abyss.He doesn’t look like a man who burned. He looks like the fire itself.
“You’re dead,” I rasp, my hand moving instinctively to the small of my back for a blade that isn’t there. I’m naked, exposed, and for the first time in my life, I feel the freezing weight of my own vulnerability. “I saw the building go down. I saw the wreckage.”
“You saw what I wanted you to see, Jex. You always were the impulsive one. All muscle, no vision.” Ryker tilts his head, his ice-blue eyes shifting to Hallow. She’s frozen, her hands still tethered to the ceiling, her body a pale, shivering ghost caught between two monsters. “And look at our little sister. All grown up and finally showing her teeth. Dad must be so proud.”
He kicks the gurney. Hard.
His head snaps to the side, his pinned-open eyes rolling frantically. The “dead” man is vibrating with a silent, paralysed terror.
“Don’t look at him like that, Ryker,” Hallow whispers, her voice a hollowed-out shell. “He sold us. He sold me.”
“He did exactly what I told him to do,” Ryker purrs, stepping closer to her. He reaches out, a gloved finger tracing the line of her jaw, moving through the salt and the kohl. “Who do you think vetted the buyers, Hallow? Who do you think made sure the ‘Choir’ had the best seat in the house? Aris didn’t have the stomach for the real dark. He just had the name. I had the appetite.”
The floor of the ambulance lurches. We’re sliding. The vehicle is beginning to drift toward the shattered guardrail, the rear tires spinning on the slick, bloody asphalt of the bridge.
“You orchestrated the funhouse?” My voice is a low, guttural snarl. The rage is coming back, a boiling tide that drowns out the fear. “You put her in that cage?”
“I put her in a crucible,” Ryker corrects, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly soft register. “Look at her now, Jex. She isn’t the fragile doll dad wanted. She’s a weapon. She’s ours. And now that the Mayor has served his purpose—now that he’s officially ‘died’ on every television screen in the state—we can finally start the real work.”
He reaches into his tactical vest and pulls out a detonator. It’s small, matte black, and has a single red LED glowing like a hungry eye.
“The bridge is rigged, little brother. In sixty seconds, this entire span becomes a reef. The city gets a tragedy, the Choir gets a martyr, and we… we disappear into the black.”
“Not without him,” Hallow hisses, her eyes darting to our father. “I want to finish it. I want to feel the life leave him.”
Ryker laughs, a dry, rattling sound. “Oh, Hallow. You still think death is the ultimate punishment? No. He is coming with us. He’s going to spend the rest of his very long, very quiet life in a cage of my design. He’s going to watch us build an empire on his ashes.”
Another cable snaps. BOOM. The sound is like a cannon fire. The ambulance tilts at a forty-five-degree angle. The gurney, with Aris strapped to it, begins to slide toward the open rear doors, toward the hundred-foot drop into the churning black water below.
“Decision time, Jex,” Ryker says, his thumb hovering over the red button. “The bike is still on the bridge. Thewater is cold. Do you take the girl and run, or do you try to kill the brother who’s already a ghost?”
He throws a bundle of black tactical gear at my feet.
“Dress fast. The fireworks are about to start.”
I look at Hallow. She’s staring at Ryker with a look that isn’t fear anymore. It’s recognition. A dark, twisted reflection of the same madness that’s been screaming in her blood. She isn’t looking at me for rescue. She’s looking at the detonator.
“Give it to me,” she whispers, her hand reaching out from the straps. “Give me the button, Ryker. I want to be the one who burns the bridge.”
The ambulance is teetering on the edge of the abyss, the back tires spinning in mid-air over the black maw of the harbour. The screams of the people on the bridge are fading, replaced by the rhythmic, metallic twang of snapping steel.
“Give it to me,” Hallow repeats, her voice a flat, dead line.
Ryker’s silver mask tilts. He looks at her—really looks at her—and a slow, jagged smirk spreads across the visible part of his jaw. He doesn’t look at me. I’m just a witness now. A bystander in the wreckage of the family he perfected.
“That’s my girl,” Rykerwhispers.
He doesn’t give her the detonator. He drops it.
The small black box clatters onto the blood-slicked floorboards, sliding toward Hallow’s bare, trembling feet. She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t look for my approval. She kicks her foot out, pinning the device against the metal floor, her toes hovering over the red LED.
“Hallow, wait!” I roar, lunging for her, but Ryker is faster.
He slams a heavy, tactical boot into my chest, sending me flying back against the telemetry rack. My head hits the monitor with a sickening crack, and the world goes white. I’m gasping for air, my naked skin sliding against the cold glass of the medicine cabinet, while the smell of ozone and salt fills my lungs.
“Let her choose, Jex,” Ryker growls, standing over me, his shadow a terrifying weight. “Let her finally be the hand of god.”
