39. The last stand

The battlefield raged on, gunfire echoing down the halls as a lone figure emerged.

Aiden gritted his teeth, gripping the broken half of Rowan's spear like a makeshift nightstick. It was unwieldy, its weight unbalanced, its edge dulled. It wasn't his weapon. And it wasn't responding to him.

Worse than that—it was taxing.

The moment he had picked it up, he felt it. A pull. Something inside the weapon tugging at his core, draining instead of enhancing. It wasn't breaking, like other non-Guardian weapons did under too much strain. No, this was different. It was taking from him. Like a siphon.

But he had no choice.

The enforcers were relentless, shadows twisting around them as they lunged. He ducked a wild swing, ramming the blunt end of the spear into an attacker's gut. The enforcer staggered back, and Aiden followed through—flipping his grip and driving the jagged tip into the enforcer's throat. A burst of black mist erupted as the body disintegrated.

Aiden barely had time to breathe before another came at him.

Too slow.

The thought hit him before the next attack did.

Normally, a Guardian's weapon enhanced their user. Gave them clarity, control. Even if the form wasn't suited for them, it would respond to their instincts. But this?

This thing was making him sluggish.

Like every movement cost more energy than it should. Like his own light was being leeched away.

But he kept moving, kept pushing forward. He had to find them. Lila. Rowan. The others.

Then—

He saw them.

Garrison. Marisol.

Marisol was clutching the baby, her shadows flickering around her like nervous animals sensing danger. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, relief breaking across her face before Garrison called out, "Aiden!"

Aiden exhaled sharply, lowering his weapon as he stepped forward. "Marisol. Garrison. We have to go."

Garrison eyed him, his posture tense. "What's happening out there?"

"Carlos's men. They're tearing the place apart. I don't know where Lila and Rowan are, but we have to find them." Aiden's voice was edged with frustration, his grip tightening on the the weapon absorbing to much power from him. "We can't just leave them."

Garrison's expression darkened. "And we can't leave her." He motioned to Marisol. "Or the kid."

The air was thick with tension, the distant echoes of gunfire rattling the apartment's fragile walls. Aiden stood across from Garrison, his grip tight around the jagged end of Rowan's broken spear. He was tense, coiled, ready to charge forward—to find Lila.

"No," Garrison said firmly, standing his ground. "You're not running off after her."

Aiden's teeth clenched. "You don't get to tell me that. She's my wife. She's pregnant. I have to—"

Garrison cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. "She has Rowan. She's not alone."

Aiden's chest heaved. "That's not—"

For a split second, something itched at the back of Aiden's mind—a shift in the air, a feeling just outside his reach. Lila. He didn't know how, but she was close. He just had to keep moving.

"That is exactly the point," Garrison pressed, stepping closer. "Lila has Rowan. But we have a baby here. We have Marisol. We are the target right now." His voice was steel, unwavering. "You really think Carlos isn't coming for them first?"

As Aiden turned to face her, something caught his eye—a slow, dark streak running down the side of Marisol's face, disappearing into the fabric of her collar. Blood.

"You're hurt," Aiden said, frowning as he reached into his pocket.

Marisol blinked in surprise, but before she could protest, Aiden pulled out his handkerchief and gently pressed it against her cheek, dabbing at the wound with careful precision. His mind was already working on a dozen other things—Carlos, Lila, the fight ahead—but his hands moved on instinct, the simple act of tending to her grounding him for a moment.

Marisol tensed at first, then exhaled, the weight of everything catching up to her in an instant.

"You're fussing," she muttered, though her voice lacked any real bite.

Aiden faltered, his breath labored. His grip loosened slightly, his instincts warring with logic. His focus blurred from from his arms aching—not from exhaustion, but from something worse. The spear was drinking from him. Every swing cost more than it should.

Garrison didn't let up. "You love Lila, I get it. But what happens if Carlos gets Marisol? What happens if he gets this baby? You run off and leave them exposed? You think that's what she'd want?"

Aiden squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. "I can't just—"

"You have to." Garrison's voice softened, just slightly. "If you go running after her now, you're playing right into Carlos's hands. He wants to separate you all, pick you off one by one." He exhaled. "Lila would understand. Hell, she'd kick your ass if she knew you left them vulnerable just to play hero."

Aiden swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He hated it. Hated that Garrison was right. Hated that he had to make this choice. The fabric darkened, crimson soaking deep into the cloth as he pulled it away. Without thinking, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing between them. "Then we get them out first and come back."

Garrison didn't hesitate. "Agreed."

Marisol shifted, the shadow cat rubbing against Aiden's leg. He frowned, looking down as the creature kneaded at his pants before rubbing against him, a soft purring sound vibrating through its form.

That was… odd.

Aiden had never seen a shadow creature act like that before. So aware. So distinct.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

The second they stepped into the hallway, Aiden felt it—

The shift.

Then—

Pain.

Blinding, sharp, immediate.

Aiden gasped, choking on his own breath as something cold and jagged buried itself into his side.

He staggered, vision blurring, hands instinctively reaching for the source of the pain. His fingers brushed metal. A blade.

Carlos.

The knife twisted.

Aiden's knees buckled, his breath leaving him in a sharp, broken gasp. His weapon clattered to the ground.

Carlos's breath was hot against his ear. "how did you not see this coming... I thought you were a cop hero?"

Then he pulled the blade free.

Aiden collapsed.

Garrison's reaction was instant. He shifted Marisol in his arms, shielding her instinctively. The baby let out a startled cry as the shadow cat darted forward, disappearing into Marisol's shadow, whisking the infant away to safety.

Carlos clicked his tongue. "I dont have time for this."

Marisol screamed. "AIDEN!"

She lunged, but Garrison tightened his hold. "No!"

Carlos smirked, twirling the bloodied blade. "Should've stayed hidden, sweetheart."

Garrison didn't think—he ran.

Holding Marisol tight, he sprinted down the hall, his breath ragged, boots slamming against the ground. Bullets rang out behind him, tearing through the walls, splintering the wood.

Then—a sharp impact.

A burning pain tore through his back. He faltered but didn't stop.

Another shot.

His legs nearly gave out, but he forced himself forward.

Marisol was screaming his name, trying to break free, but he held tight. He had to get her out. He had to—

A third shot.

His body betrayed him. His knees hit the floor.

The baby was gone—safe in the shadows. But Marisol—

She hit the ground beside him, her fingers grabbing at his jacket. "No—no, no, no—"

A shadow surged toward them.

The snake.

It lunged at Carlos, fangs bared—

And Carlos threw a grenade into its open mouth.

BOOM.

The explosion rattled the apartment. Smoke and debris clouded the hallway. The snake was gone.

Marisol's scream was raw. Devastated.

Garrison reached for her. "Marisol—"

His fingers barely brushed her wrist before Carlos grabbed her, yanking her back. She kicked, struggled, but she was weak—distracted by grief, by fear, by the overwhelming force of everything falling apart.

Carlos smirked. "Time to go."

Then—the ceiling caved in.

A figure landed between them, crushing an enforcer beneath his feet as his body flickered with darkness.

Mephisto straightened, cracking his neck, his grin sharp and vicious. "Miss me?"

Carlos's smirk faltered.

Mephisto twirled his cane, the shadows curling at his feet like hungry wolves. "It's time for the extras to exit my stage."

Carlos clicked his tongue, shoving Marisol behind him before backing toward the wreckage. "Next time, Mephisto."

A shot rang out.

Carlos cursed, gripping his shoulder as smog bloomed through his sleeve. Garrison was still alive. Still aiming.

Carlos scowled, ripping Marisol up by the wrist. "Time to go."

Marisol clawed at his grip, her breath ragged, shadows writhing around her. But then—something changed.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The air around her shifted.

A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, pulsing outward—

And then he saw it, her eyes glowed.

Not red.

Not black.

A golden amber—bright, untamed, alive.

Carlos's smirk twitched—just for a second. "That's new." Then, before Marisol could

react, he slammed his fist into the side of her head.

The glow vanished.

Marisol crumpled.

Carlos exhaled, rolling his shoulder. "Yeah. Save that for later."

Garrison reached for her—

But Carlos was already gone.

Marisol disappeared into the smoke.

Garrison exhaled sharply, his body finally giving in, slumping against the wreckage. The adrenaline ran out. His vision blurred.

His breath shallowed.

Somewhere in the distance, Marisol screamed.

Somewhere, Aiden lay bleeding.

Somewhere, Lila was still heading their way.

But he wouldn't see it.

And then—

Everything faded to black.