The Greatest Showman - Chapter 778: Perish Together
Rita, pressed against his chest, felt the firm, protective weight of his hands cradling the back of her head. His warmth seeped through her hair and onto her neck. His breath was ragged, hot against her skin. Only now, as the immediate danger settled, did she become aware of just how close they were. Her heart pounded—not just from the near-death experience, but from something more unexpected.
She pulled back slightly, trying to steady herself. Cage's hands instinctively resisted before releasing her, his fingers brushing against her arm before falling away. Their gazes locked. Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them, heavy and uneven. A moment passed—just long enough for realization to flicker in their eyes—before both quickly looked away.
"I'm fine," Rita said, her voice hoarse, betraying the strain in her throat.
Cage nodded, jaw tightening. No unnecessary sentiment. No hesitation. They were standing at the edge of survival; emotions had no place here. He shifted his focus outward, scanning their surroundings. They had fallen into the lowest level of the Louvre Museum, now reduced to ruins. Water gushed from broken pipes, creating an eerie, echoing roar.
Then he saw it. Just twenty steps away, amidst the destruction, a shimmering blue lake reflected the cavern's fractured remains. Scattered statues lay broken, half-submerged in the water, eerily still. But Cage knew this was no ordinary pool.
Omega was here.
The entity that controlled the aliens' ability to reset time. The core of their dominance. As long as Omega lived, humanity would never win. It could undo every failure, predict every move, and recalibrate its strategy infinitely. Their only chance—humanity's only chance—was to kill it. And that mission rested on them.
Cage's voice was barely more than a whisper. "It's in the water. There."
Rita barely had time to register his words before a fresh jolt of pain shot through her ankle as she attempted to stand. She bit back a cry, forcing herself forward on her hands and knees, crawling to cover behind a crumbling wall.
Above them, the ceiling trembled with the weight of alien forces hunting them. The pounding vibrations sent fine dust cascading like an hourglass running out of time. The enemy knew they were below. It was only a matter of time before they broke through.
Cage moved to follow, but a sharp, searing pain lanced through his side. He barely suppressed a groan, his breath hitching. He didn't need to check—he knew. The relentless escape, the blasts, the impacts—he was injured. Badly. The deep ache gnawed at him, each movement a cruel reminder.
Grinding his teeth, he willed himself forward, forcing his body to comply. Rita turned just as he reached her, extending a hand to help, but he was already beside her, pressing his back to the wall. Their ragged breathing filled the silence between them, neither acknowledging their obvious pain.
Then Rita peeked around the edge of the bunker and froze.
Alpha.
The second-most powerful alien after Omega. A predator. A killer. It prowled the ruins, sniffing, searching. The mere sight of it made Rita's stomach clench.
She turned back sharply. "It's an Alpha."
Cage arched an eyebrow, smirking despite their predicament. "Tell me something I don't know."
Even in the face of death, he found time for sarcasm. Rita blinked, momentarily thrown. Then, just as quickly, Cage's expression hardened. "I'll lead it away," he said. "You kill Omega."
"No." The word left her lips without hesitation.
Cage turned, meeting her gaze. Even through the dirt and blood smeared across his face, his sharp determination was unmistakable. But Rita saw through him.
"You won't make it ten steps before it rips you apart," she said. Her voice was steady, but her eyes—her eyes were knowing. Smug, even. A quiet, teasing amusement flickered there. "You're injured. Badly."
Paul Greengrass, standing behind the monitor, stiffened.
Wait… what?
He turned to his assistant, eyes wide. "Was that in the script?"
It wasn't. He was sure of it. The original scene was clean, efficient. No injuries. No argument. No deviation. Just orders exchanged, a brief goodbye, then action.
Yet here they were.
Jennifer had altered the dialogue. More astonishingly, Renly had followed her lead without missing a beat. The playful banter, the tension, the weight of experience—it felt raw, real. Had they planned this? Improvised? Had they rehearsed without him knowing?
Greengrass hesitated. Should he cut? Stop them?
His throat tightened. No. Something was happening here. Something better than what was on the page.
On-screen, Cage said nothing. He just stared at Rita, weighing her words, testing them. Rita didn't falter. The knowing glint in her eye never wavered.
Finally, Cage exhaled, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "You're hurt too," he murmured. "You won't outrun an Alpha."
Rita blinked.
Damn it. He'd caught her too.
A smirk tugged at Cage's lips. "We're terrible at keeping secrets."
Rita huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Looks like neither of us is making it out clean this time."
For a moment, just a moment, the war faded. They weren't soldiers. Just two people in an impossible situation, sharing the same doomed fate. Rita held his gaze, warmth creeping into the edges of her expression.
Then, quietly, she reached into her vest, pulled out a grenade, and placed it firmly in Cage's hands. "I'll draw Alpha away. You kill Omega. Don't let my effort be wasted."
Cage tightened his grip around the grenade, his knuckles whitening. His jaw clenched, his breath shallow. He looked at Rita, really looked at her. The corners of his mouth curled up—just slightly—but there was pain in his eyes.
"Promise me," he murmured, "you won't let Alpha kill me again. I don't want to go through this all over again."
Rita laughed, but it was soft, subdued. The weight of what lay ahead pressed against them.
"Thank you," she said, voice quiet. "For bringing me here."
A pause. A heartbeat.
Then, before she could lose her nerve, she turned away, stepping toward Alpha.
But Cage caught her wrist.
Rita's breath hitched. She turned back, eyes questioning. Cage's expression was unreadable, a war of emotions raging beneath his skin. His grip was firm, yet hesitant, as if he were memorizing the feel of her before it was too late.
In his eyes, Rita saw it all.
The pain. The struggle. The thousands of lives lost. The weight of a war fought alone. And something deeper—something unspoken.
Time stood still.
And then—
He let go.