The heavy, metallic clang of the hidden door echoed through the lab, a sound of finality.
It was the sound of a cage door slamming shut, sealing them in and sealing Gideon out.
Silence.
A thick, suffocating silence that was heavier than any scream.
Leo was the first to move.
He stumbled over to the main console, his hand clutching the sleek, sterile container that held the cure.
He had it.
He had the prize.
He looked at the door, his face a pale, ghostly mask of guilt.
"He's still out there," Leo whispered, his voice a raw, broken thing.
Clara stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the cold, unfeeling metal of the door.
Her father was on the other side.
Fighting.
Dying.
For them.
She didn't cry.
Her face was a perfect, stoic mask, but Miles could see the fine tremor in her hands.
He could feel the storm of grief and terror raging just beneath the surface.
He felt a surge of something hot and useless in his own chest.
Rage.
Guilt.
A profound, soul-crushing helplessness.
