POV: Mary
Her scream had torn her throat raw, though she hadn't realized it until much later.
Now, kneeling in soot, hands shaking in the blackened dirt, everything felt dull—muted. Like sound behind glass.
Footsteps crunched over charred leaves.
"Mary?"
She looked up.
Rivera stood a few meters away, rifle slung low. His eyes were wide behind ash-streaked skin. His hair was soaked in sweat and blood, face pale beneath the grime.
When he saw her, really saw her, he moved fast—shouldering his rifle, jogging across the cratered clearing.
"Shit," he breathed. "You okay? Can you stand?"
She tried to answer, but her voice stuck in her throat. Her lungs felt like they were filled with smoke and grief.
Rivera didn't press her. Just crouched beside her, hooked an arm under hers, and pulled her gently upright. She leaned against him—legs half-dead, steps unsure.
Together, they made their way through the scarred clearing toward the transport vehicle parked just beyond the tree line.
The engine was off.
Silence reigned.
Only two others were waiting by the truck.
Evie stood, one arm in a sling, her temple wrapped in gauze. Her shirt was torn and her expression brittle. When she saw them approach, her breath caught.
"There you are," she said, rushing toward them. "God, Mary—"
"What happened?" Mary's voice came hoarse. Barely audible.
Evie hesitated. Then looked away.
"…Code Black," she said softly.
Mary blinked. The words didn't register at first. "What?"
Evie swallowed. "The HQ's gone. All of it. Baines detonated the failsafe."
Mary felt the breath leave her lungs again.
Gone.
DARKOM was gone.
Her knees almost gave out. Rivera steadied her.
"Eight," Evie said. "Only eight of us made it out."
Out of seventy-eight.
A Day Later – Mass Funeral Grounds
The hill overlooked the forest—now quiet, barren, and scorched. A place where life had been burned down to bone.
The caskets stood in two long rows. No flags. No polished brass. No ceremony. Just black tarps and single white symbols, one for each lost soul.
Too many of them were closed because there was nothing left to bury.
Mary stood among the living—what few remained.
Evie on one side, Rivera on the other.
Her eyes were swollen, raw. Her face pale beneath her dark coat. She hadn't stopped crying since the blast. Now, the tears were gone, but something inside her kept weeping. Quietly. Endlessly.
"You should sit," Evie whispered.
"I'm fine," Mary murmured.
"You're not."
She shook her head.
Her gaze landed on one casket. Set slightly apart. Marked with a red cloth.
Michael's.
Her stomach twisted.
She stepped forward slowly, ignoring the others.
The air was cold.
The wind dragged her coat behind her.
She stared down at the tarp.
"He died protecting me," she said softly.
Evie didn't respond. Just stood nearby, silent.
Mary forced the words out. "He didn't hesitate. He gave everything."
Her fists tightened at her sides. Her jaw clenched.
"And I never told him." Her voice cracked. "Never said how I felt. Not once."
She stared at the dirt.
"I think I loved him."
Evie reached out and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her. Mary didn't resist.
"He knew," Evie said quietly.
Mary closed her eyes.
But she didn't cry.
Not anymore.
Later That Night – Mary's Apartment
The door clicked shut.
She didn't bother turning on the lights.
She moved through the dark by muscle memory, shrugged off her coat, dropped her gun belt to the floor, and collapsed onto the couch like her body had forgotten how to hold itself together.
Her chest felt hollow. Her limbs heavy.
Michael was gone.
DARKOM was gone.
Everything they'd built, bled for—burned.
She reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. Not for news. Not for distraction. Just… for noise.
"…Vice President Baines has reportedly died in a car crash earlier this morning…"
The voice blurred.
Mary stared at the screen.
Images of wreckage. Headlines. Muted chaos.
She didn't move.
Didn't react.
Her mind drifted—back to a dark hallway, Baines's voice cold as winter, his words echoing like gospel.
"We serve the light from the shadows."
She shut her eyes.
Two Days Later – Downtown Bar
The bar was tucked between two shuttered shops, half its neon sign burned out.
Inside, the air was low and warm—filled with the soft hum of forgotten music and the clink of cheap glasses. The kind of place built for quiet ghosts.
Mary sat in a corner booth, a worn hoodie pulled over her head. Across from her sat Rivera and Evie—dressed in civvies, stripped of everything that once made them soldiers.
They looked like strangers to their own lives.
Three glasses. Half-empty.
Silence clung like smoke.
Evie broke it first. "You know… I didn't think you'd actually come."
"I almost didn't," Rivera said. "Still feels… wrong."
Evie gave a crooked smile. "You said only eight of us made it. Where are the others?"
Rivera looked down into his drink.
"Two in medical. One hasn't said a word since they pulled him out. One's gone back to family. The last guy… just walked into the woods. Haven't seen him since."
Evie didn't reply.
Mary didn't move.
Rivera looked up. "So what now?"
Mary leaned forward.
Her eyes were sharp again. Dry, but burning.
"I will hunt demons."
The words didn't shake. Didn't flinch.
Evie raised an eyebrow.
Rivera just waited.
"I'll take every job," Mary continued. "Every contract. Every hit. I'll be a mercenary. No name. No uniform. Just the work."
She glanced out the window. Rain tapped the glass softly.
"I'll do what DARKOM couldn't."
She paused. Then her voice dropped lower.
"I'll avenge them all."