The sirens reached the warehouse before the lights did.
Red and blue reflections flickered against the white interior walls as armored vehicles screeched to a halt outside. Boots hit concrete. Voices overlapped. Orders were shouted.
Inside, the aftermath remained frozen.
Leah still knelt beside Izana.
Dante stood a few feet away, one hand pressed against his ribs, the other hanging stiffly at his side.
The warehouse doors burst open again — this time with controlled urgency.
"Clear the perimeter!" "Secure the unconscious!" "Medical team inside!"
Elias was among the first to enter.
His eyes swept the room once — and then he saw them.
Izana on the floor.
Leah kneeling beside him.
Blood beneath the chair.
Elias's expression hardened instantly.
"What happened?" he demanded, striding forward.
Dante exhaled slowly. "The curse took full control."
Elias's gaze dropped to Izana's unconscious form. "And?"
"I had to use the failsafe."
Elias went still.
"…Did you really have to use that dosage?"
Dante gave a small nod.
Elias ran a hand through his hair sharply. "You could have killed him."
"I know."
Before Elias could respond, medics rushed in.
"Move back," one ordered gently but firmly.
Leah didn't react at first.
She was still touching Izana's shoulder.
"Ma'am, we need space."
Dante crouched beside her carefully. "Leah… they need to check him."
Her fingers tightened slightly into Izana's shirt.
"They won't hurt him?" she asked faintly.
"No," Dante said quietly. "They won't."
Slowly, she withdrew her hand.
The medics moved quickly and efficiently.
They rolled Izana onto a stretcher, securing restraints around his wrists and chest.
Elias watched closely.
"You're restraining him?" he asked sharply.
"Protocol," the medic replied. "If he wakes disoriented, we cannot risk another incident."
Dante didn't argue.
He knew they were right.
As they lifted Izana, his head tilted slightly to the side, pale under the warehouse lights. He looked younger unconscious. Less dangerous.
Less monstrous.
Leah watched silently as they carried him toward a separate armored vehicle.
"Where are you taking him?" she asked.
"Secure medical facility," one medic answered. "He'll be monitored closely."
"In a different car," another added.
Leah's chest tightened.
"Different?" she whispered.
"For safety."
Her fingers curled weakly into the fabric of her torn sleeve.
Elias turned to her then — and finally saw it clearly.
The blood on her clothes.
His voice changed immediately.
"Leah."
She looked up at him slowly.
He crossed the distance in two steps and knelt in front of her.
"Where are you hurt?"
She didn't answer right away.
The medics noticed too.
"Ma'am, we need to get you on a stretcher."
"I'm fine," she tried to say.
But when she attempted to stand, her legs gave out.
Elias caught her.
"That's not fine," he said firmly.
She winced, one hand instinctively moving to her abdomen.
Dante saw the gesture.
And his jaw tightened.
The medics worked quickly.
They eased her onto a stretcher carefully.
"Blood pressure is low." "She's still bleeding." "Prepare fluids."
Elias walked alongside her as they carried her out of the warehouse.
His eyes didn't leave her face.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Leah stared up at the night sky as they emerged outside.
"I didn't get to tell him," she murmured.
Elias frowned. "Tell him what?"
She closed her eyes.
The stretcher was loaded into a separate vehicle.
Dante climbed in beside her, his arm now clearly swelling.
Elias followed.
As the doors shut and the vehicle began moving, the interior filled with controlled urgency.
One doctor cut away part of Leah's sleeve to check for additional injuries.
Another adjusted an IV line.
"Ma'am," one of them said gently, "how far along were you?"
Elias froze.
Dante's head snapped toward the medic.
Leah's lips trembled.
"…About four weeks," she whispered.
The vehicle went silent.
Elias stared at her.
"Leah…" His voice broke slightly. "You were—."
She nodded faintly.
Dante looked down at the floor for a moment, processing.
The medic continued carefully, "The stress and trauma likely triggered—."
"I know what it triggered," Leah said softly.
The doctor fell silent.
Elias leaned closer. "Does he know?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Dante swallowed. "You were going to tell him."
"Yes."
Her voice cracked on the word.
"I was waiting. I wanted to tell him when he wasn't distracted. When he wasn't dealing with enemies. When he could just… be happy."
Elias looked away briefly, jaw tight.
"He almost killed you," he said quietly.
Leah's eyes filled with tears.
"That wasn't him."
Dante spoke gently. "He struck at you, Leah."
"He didn't see me," she whispered. "The curse did."
Silence settled in the vehicle except for the hum of the engine and the steady beeping of portable monitors.
After a moment, Leah looked at both of them.
"You can't tell him."
Elias blinked. "What?"
"You cannot tell Izana about the baby."
Dante frowned. "Leah—."
"He will blame himself," she said firmly despite her weakness. "He already carries the weight of the curse. If he finds out that we lost our child because of tonight…"
Her voice faltered.
"He won't survive that guilt."
Elias leaned back slightly, conflicted. "He deserves to know."
"And what will that do?" she asked, tears sliding down her temples into her hair. "He will believe he killed his own child."
Dante's throat tightened.
"He'll say the curse did," Dante murmured.
Leah shook her head weakly.
"No. He'll say he did. Because he will believe he failed to protect me"
The vehicle turned sharply.
One of the medics adjusted her IV again.
"You need rest," the doctor said gently.
Leah ignored it.
"Promise me," she whispered.
Elias stared at her.
"Leah…"
"Promise me," she repeated. "Let him think it was just the stress. Let him think it was just the lights. Let him think it was anything but him."
Dante looked at Elias.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Dante spoke quietly.
"…I promise."
Elias closed his eyes briefly.
Then nodded.
"…I won't tell him."
Leah exhaled slowly, relief and grief mixing together painfully.
The vehicle slowed as they approached the secured medical facility.
In another armored car ahead of them, Izana lay restrained on a stretcher, unconscious and unaware.
Unaware that he had nearly struck his wife.
Unaware that he had lost a child he never knew existed.
Unaware that the hollow absence he felt had a name.
Leah turned her face slightly toward the window.
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"I wanted him to smile," she whispered faintly. "Just once."
The doors opened.
The stretchers rolled out.
They entered separate corridors —
Separated by walls.
By silence.
By a truth that only three people now carried.
And a secret that would either protect Izana —
Or destroy him later.