Murido backs into an old shipping bay—empty, dark, lit only by the flicker of a dying overhead bulb. His gun clicks empty. He throws the useless weapon aside and grabs a blade off a workbench. Deacon steps into the bay. Chest rising. Eyes burning. Gun trained dead center on Murido's chest. Murido sneers. "You think killing me brings her back? Huh? You think it fixes anything, cop?" Deacon doesn't answer. He doesn't move. Murido laughs—a harsh, broken sound. "She screamed, you know. When she fell." Hondo arrives at the doorway at that exact second—and his heart stops when Deacon's finger tightens on the trigger. "DEACON, DON'T—" But Murido doesn't shut up. "She cried your name. Begged—" Deacon fires. One shot. Clean. Deliberate. Murido collapses, the knife clattering beside him. And for a terrifying heartbeat, the room is silent. Dead silent. Deacon stares at the body like he expected to feel something—relief, closure, justice. He feels nothing. Nothing but the weight of what he's done. Hondo approaches slowly. Chris steps in behind him, tears streaming. Street freezes in the doorway, stunned into stillness. Luca lowers his weapon like it suddenly weighs a hundred pounds. Tan stands beside him, eyes hollow. Deacon's gun slips from his hand and hits the ground. He drops to his knees. Not because he's hurt. Not because he's scared. Because the one thing he'd been living for the last few hours—revenge—is over. And he's still broken. Hondo kneels in front of him, gently taking Deacon's face in both hands. "Look at me," He says softly. Deacon does. And he finally looks like a man seeing himself for the first time since Annie fell to the floor. "I killed him," Deacon whispers. Hondo pulls him into a tight embrace before he can collapse entirely. "No," he says into Deacon's shoulder, voice shaking. "You ended it. There's a difference." Deacon shudders, gripping the back of Hondo's vest. Chris kneels beside them, resting a hand on Deacon's back. Street takes a step closer, eyes glassy. Tan and Luca form a circle around them—protecting their own, guarding him even now, despite what he's done. For a long moment, none of them speak. They just breathe. Together. Then Hondo whispers: "We're taking you home, brother." Deacon closes his eyes. And for the first time since Annie died... He lets himself be held.
Next Chap: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1262074753/ Prologue: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1255177384/ Intro: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1255156191/