Bruce hit the floor with a dull thud.
The sound tore through the silence, snapping Ron awake.
He staggered up, blinking at the sight before him—
Bruce lay motionless, his chest barely rising.
Ron shouted for help.
A woman in a white coat—Carter's sister, the attending doctor—rushed in.
She froze when she saw Bruce on the floor, confusion flashing in her eyes.
Then, without a word, she and Ron hurried Bruce into another room. The doctors gathered around him, whispering urgently, their faces tense.
Ron stood outside the glass window, phone in his hand ,he called Carter.
Moments later, Carter burst into the hospital corridor, breathless.
"What happened?"
Ron's gaze never left Bruce's still body.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "I heard a noise… then saw him on the floor."
He hesitated, voice dropping to a whisper.
"But there was something else. Something wrong."
He swallowed hard.
"I could feel it, Carter. Something evil was here."
Elsewhere
In the underground chamber of the Foster, shadows clung to the walls like living things.
Nine chairs encircled a massive steel table, but only eight were filled.
A man slammed his fist down.
"Where the hell is Ross?"
No one answered.
Only the man with emerald eyes sat still—calm, calculating—his fingers locked together beneath his chin.
Then, the heavy doors creaked open.
Footsteps echoed.
Ross entered, his long coat dragging across the floor.
He took the empty seat at the head of the table, eyes cold as stone.
The room fell silent.
"Let the meeting begin," Ross said, his voice carrying an unmistakable authority.
"Recently, we discovered that Locki had the key all along," he continued.
The room fell into stunned silence.
A man with piercing green eyes leaned back, his lips curling into a thin smile as his fingers intertwined before his face.
"What? Then why chase Carter all this time?" asked the white-haired woman.
Ross sighed. "Our spy was drunk that night. He saw Carter and Locki in a café—Carter handed him an envelope, but it wasn't the key. The fool thought Locki gave something to Carter."
"How could we make such a mistake?" a voice muttered from the shadows.
"So what now?" the blonde woman asked coldly.
"Now," Ross said, eyes narrowing, "we get answers out of Locki."
A man chuckled. "Finally, we'll have the key—or should I say, the secrets of Scars." The room felt alive, like all their struggles will be paid off.
"Carter and the others will soon learn about Locki's location," Ross added.
The room erupted again in disbelief.
"How could they?" someone demanded.
"When we were tracing the key, we found it in Locki's hands," Ross explained, "but our plan was leaked. Someone's been feeding them information."
"They won't act yet," another voice reasoned. "Carter's family was attacked. He'll be expecting another strike—or a trap."
"What about DA?" a man asked.
Ross's tone darkened. "DA's current whereabouts are unknown. For now, we focus on securing the key. Move Locki to another location—tonight. Three a.m. Dismissed."
The green-eyed man remained seated, smiling faintly to himself as the others filed out. His gaze stayed fixed on the table, as though lost in some private amusement.
In the Hospital
Bruce's eyes snapped open.
"Guys…"
Ron and Carter turned toward him.
"What happened?" Ron asked.
"There's something I need to tell you," Bruce said, his expression grave.
Ron and Carter exchanged uneasy glances.
"It's about Locki."
Ron looked at Bruce, his voice tense.
"What about Locki?"
Bruce's eyes darkened. "I know where they're keeping him."
Carter let out a long sigh of relief, a genuine smile breaking through for the first time since the death of his first wife.
"So… where is he?" Ron asked, leaning forward.
Bruce shook his head. "I don't know."
Ron blinked. Carter's smile faded.
"I mean, I don't know because it doesn't exist on any world map," Bruce clarified.
"What do you mean? How did you find out?" Ron pressed.
Bruce gestured for them to sit. "Let me start from the beginning."
He took a deep breath. "Carter, remember when your sentence was lifted and you were granted freedom? I came to pick you up."
Carter nodded.
"That's when I saw him—a green-eyed man. He… he did something to me. It was like my body wasn't mine. I could only watch from the inside. He extracted information about an organization… called Scars."
Carter's eyes widened.
"Scars? What is that?" Ron asked, turning to Bruce.
Bruce shrugged slightly. "Carter will explain." He pointed toward him.
Ron's gaze shifted. Carter inhaled slowly. "The Scars. It's an organization that belonged to my late grandfather, Locki's grandfather, and Rocky's grandfather."
"The Scars created something. No one knows what it truly is… except Locki. From what I've heard, it holds all the secrets related to Foster… and someone else, whose name I don't remember. Locki is the eldest of the three of us. When the Scars organization was in its final moments, the three grandfathers, on their deathbeds, decided to pass all the secrets to him."
Ron's brow furrowed. "What was its exact purpose?"
"We don't know," Bruce admitted.
"The Scars were formed by our grandfathers," Bruce spoke
He continued, " All this time, Foster hunted Carter, believing he knew everything. But now… they know the truth. Locki is in grave danger."
"How do you know?" Ron asked sharply.
"I glimpsed into the green-eyed man's mind," Bruce said.
"They'll try to move Locki," Carter added, his tone grim.
"Don't worry," Carter said with quiet confidence. "The Locki I know… he'd rather die than reveal anything."
Bruce shook his head, and both Ron and Carter's expressions fell. "Locki doesn't know anything."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, shocked.
"He only has the envelope," Bruce said. "The envelope contains all the information."
Ron's jaw tightened. "Then let's go. We save Locki—now."