Eko slumped onto the lounge, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor. She leaned heavily against Mya and Jesse, her body trembling under the weight of everything that had transpired. The night had been brutal, each moment more harrowing than the last, and the group had lashed out at her behind closed doors, voices rising in confusion about what exactly she had done. But it was Toni, hobbling into the room on crutches, who silenced the chaos.

Without hesitation, Toni made his way over to her, his face tight with pain but his heart wide open. He pulled her into a tight hug, his body trembling as he whispered brokenly, "Thank you... for bringing him back." His voice cracked, and in that moment, he almost collapsed in her arms, apologizing over and over that he hadn't been able to protect Matthew. His guilt bled into hers, and the weight of it shattered her defenses.

They stood together, their tears mingling as the others slowly joined, wrapping their arms around the pair in a silent show of solidarity. The weight of nearly losing Matthew, of the narrow escape from a devastating loss, had crushed them all, leaving them drained and hollowed out, their strength spent.

But the real torment came now, as reality set in. Protocol Margot was in full effect—a plan designed to protect the headmaster's privacy in the event of an assassination attempt or, worse, his death. The protocol, named after the first headmaster who had been killed when the academies were founded, had been put in place to prevent history from repeating itself. The academies' boards, having long prepared for such an eventuality, moved swiftly, ensuring that any chaos or panic among the public would be contained.

Yet, despite these careful precautions, the news of Matthew's attack had ignited a firestorm of action over the past twelve hours. Word had spread faster than they could control, and the response had been brutal. Allegiant's academies, fueled by fear and rage, had launched a full-scale assault on their enemies. Territories across the western seaboard were purged, entire networks dismantled. The elite teams—those trained by Matthew himself—were hunting down Xero and any remaining factions allied with Ezra.

The violent retaliation was necessary, but it left the group feeling the weight of a system spiraling into war, reacting to protect itself from the blow that had nearly crippled it.

Richie and Toni had allowed the boards to continue their operations; their focus, like Eko's, was on something far more personal. They had needed to let Allegiant show strength, even as their own hearts broke under the strain. To the world, Allegiant had to look indomitable, but behind closed doors, they were all teetering on the edge.

Eko, exhausted and barely holding herself together, slumped deeper into the lounge in the ICU. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the constant hum of machinery filled the air around her, making her stomach twist into knots. It was unbearable—the waiting, the not knowing, the endless stretch of time as they all hung on the fragile hope that Matthew would wake.

Each minute dragged like a slow torture, bringing her back to the last time he had been in this condition, waiting for his body to heal from the ravages of reaper poison. Back then, it had taken days for him to regain consciousness. But this time was worse. So much worse.

This time, Matthew had died. Clinically declared dead. He had slipped from her, and for those harrowing minutes, he had been gone.

She hadn't told the others about her second crystal. She had lied, saying she had simply given everything to revive Matthew's crystal. But the truth was far darker. She had used the other one—the one she had hidden for so long—and it had drained her in ways she still didn't fully understand.

But despite the nausea and exhaustion, it had worked. Matthew was breathing again. His heart, which had once stopped, was now beating under the steady surveillance of the machines, each beep a fragile lifeline tethering him to the present. For thirteen agonizing hours, the doctors had been watching him with meticulous care, returning with cautious optimism but no promises. It had been a long, tenuous night.

It was mid-morning when Eko's eyes fluttered open, the soft hum of the room pulling her from the haze of restless sleep. The sterile scent of antiseptic still lingered in the air, the rhythmic beeping of the machines filling the space with their monotony. Her gaze slowly focused on the television screen across from her—a panel of brightly dressed women animatedly discussing some juicy scandal. The clashing contrast of their lively colors and feigned concern struck her as absurd, given the grim reality she found herself in.

Eko blinked, trying to make sense of the garish scene. The women leaned forward eagerly, their faces lit up with scandalous excitement as they dissected the latest celebrity drama, sipping from their identical pastel mugs, pretending to care. Their eyes gleamed with the hunger for gossip, thinly veiled behind expressions of fake empathy.

The scene was too normal, too far removed from the chaos that had become Eko's life, and for a fleeting moment, she felt as though she were watching it all from another world. The triviality of their discussion seemed almost cruel in its stark contrast to the gravity of what was happening just behind her, in the ICU room where Matthew lay. The mundane hum of the television continued as if the world outside hadn't just unraveled at her feet.

How could the world keep turning? How could they go on as if nothing had changed?

Then, Eko's hazy attention sharpened. As she tuned in, the scandal they were discussing on the show morphed into something far more personal. The broadcast had cut to live scenes outside Allegiant, where the academy gates were shut tight. Hundreds of reporters were camped outside, cameras flashing, their microphones poised for any scrap of information. Allegiant soldiers stood on guard, forming an impenetrable wall to ensure no chaos broke out.

"Are they outside?" Eko's voice cracked through the room, cutting the tension as she looked to Jesse and Mya, who flanked her on either side.

"Yeah, babe," Jesse muttered, rubbing a hand over her face in exhaustion. "Freakin' vultures have been out there for hours since the news broke."

Mya shook her head, tsking in disapproval as she reached for the remote, turning up the sound. The four women on the screen returned, their expressions a mix of manufactured shock and excitement as they continued their discussion.

"What a scene it is outside Allegiant, ladies! Can you believe the audacity? Going after him like that! Now, Cadence, before the break, you mentioned that some of your connections had more insight into this... Come on, spill the tea! Don't keep us waiting any longer."

The women on the screen leaned in, eyes glimmering with excitement, eager to delve into the tragedy that had become headline news.

Cadence White, always the animated one, threw her hand up with a flourish. "Adelaide, gurllll, it has been a whirlwind, let me tell you." Her voice was dripping with excitement, her wide-eyed expression selling the drama. "What we know is that the Mercy One teams arrived a little after seven last night and were directed straight to the infirmary, which has been on lockdown since that afternoon—I'm talking guards everywhere! Now, for those who don't know, Mercy One is Isadora's elite team for heart conditions, usually called in for transplants. So, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together, hun."

Adelaide nodded, her brow furrowing in manufactured concern. "It absolutely doesn't, Cadence. And with the reported attack at the eastern border—possibly involving Ezra and some form of retaliation—you could only assume it's all connected." She leaned back dramatically, her voice lowering for effect. "And now that the Royal Board and Allegiant's boards have taken temporary control, it means something has gone really wrong. This is a critical moment for Allegiant."

Dakota Dalton, the more grounded voice in the group, but still buzzing with excitement, leaned forward. "So who are your sources reporting that it was, Cadence?" Her tone was serious, but there was an unmistakable thrill in her words, a hunger for the drama. "And do we even know if they're alive or deceased?"

Claire Burton, ever the skeptic, crossed her arms and raised a perfectly arched brow. "I'm telling you, it's the headmaster, and he's dead." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the excitement with a brutal bluntness that bordered on cruel. "Protocol Margot wouldn't have been triggered if he wasn't. Remember, Margot was killed ten years ago, ambushed just like this because she was a threat to Ezra. Skarsgard was no different—if anything, he was worse. He was ruthless, relentless, just as brutal as the enemies he hunted down. Ezra didn't want him dead because he was a figurehead—she wanted him dead because he was closing in, and he would've destroyed her if given the chance. I'd bet anything on it."

A collective gasp rippled through the women on-screen, the tension palpable, like they were reveling in their own morbid discovery.

Adelaide Splendor, the glamorous one, leaned in, eyes wide. "That totally makes sense," she breathed, as if Claire's cold certainty was gospel.

Cadence White leaned in, lowering her voice as if savoring the gravity of her next words. "Dead or not—may he rest in peace, though let's be real, that man had a face carved by gods." She paused, her eyes glinting with a mix of awe and intrigue. "But let's talk facts. If Matthew's truly gone, Allegiant is on the brink. Who's got the guts to fill those shoes? Those aren't just any shoes—they belong to a man who ruled with an iron fist and a brain sharper than a dagger."

In the ICU, Eko's stomach twisted with each word, her anger boiling over. As much as Cadence drooled over Matthew, the facts were undeniable—there would be no one that could replace him. No one. And it enraged her to no end that they spoke of him like he was already gone, already buried. He was alive, breathing, and fighting like he always had. They should be counting their lucky stars he was on their side, because if Matthew was ever their enemy, they wouldn't even be standing here gossiping about him.

On the screen, Adelaide chimed in again, her voice gleeful despite the somber tone. "Honestly, this is going to set the stage for everything. If Skarsgard's dead, this could be the catalyst for war."

Dakota, always ready to add fuel to the fire, jumped in eagerly. "Exactly. If he really is dead—and it's looking more likely by the second th—"

"What the fuck?" Matthew's raspy voice suddenly cut through the room, freezing the conversation in its tracks.

Everyone in the room jerked in shock, their heads snapping toward the bed at the sound of Matthew's raspy voice, sharp with anger and disbelief. Mya almost dropped the remote, her fingers fumbling to keep hold of it. Jesse's eyes went wide in shock, while Eko froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Just moments ago, Matthew had been lying motionless, pale and lifeless. Now, he was sitting up, leaning forward slightly, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, confusion, and defiance. The ghostly pallor that had once gripped him was gone, his skin slowly regaining it's full color. His eyes darted between the chaotic broadcast on the TV and the stunned faces surrounding him.

"Why the fuck are they reporting that I'm dead?" Matthew's voice, though raspy, carried a sharp, frustrated edge. His eyes flicked to the screen, where sensational headlines blared from the television, his confusion palpable. "Jesus, what the fuck has happened?"

The impact of his words rippled through the room. Eko felt her heart stutter, a wave of relief mixed with disbelief washing over her. Mya's grip on the remote tightened as if anchoring herself to the moment, and Jesse looked as if she had seen a ghost, her hands trembling slightly.

Matthew's wide, confused eyes darted from the television to their faces, then back to the screen, where the chaotic images of Allegiant's gates, swarmed with reporters, filled the screen. He pointed, almost accusingly, at the flashing headlines. The sound of the TV, which had been deafening just moments ago, now felt distant, drowned out by the weight of his return.

"What the fuck is all of this?" Matthew demanded, his voice stronger now, filled with raw desperation and a need for answers. His gaze bore into each of them, searching for some kind of explanation.

The three women stood frozen, paralyzed by the shock of the moment, their minds struggling to catch up with the reality before them. The news broadcast droned on in the background, mocking the stunned silence that filled the room.

On screen, Claire Burton's voice cut through the noise. "Can you imagine how grim the funeral—"

Mya, snapping back into action, quickly muted the TV, the sudden silence making the air in the room feel even heavier. She sprang from the lounge with urgency, moving toward Matthew's bedside. Jesse and Eko followed close behind, their emotions a tangled mess of shock, relief, and anxiety. The sight of Matthew awake and alert was like a lifeline, pulling them out of the dark depths of fear they'd been drowning in.

Reaching Matthew, Mya grabbed the tablet from the bedside table and began tapping furiously, her fingers flying over the screen as she entered the codes to alert the medical staff that he had regained consciousness. The quick, urgent beeps of the device filled the room, breaking the tense silence.

Before Matthew could fully comprehend what was happening, Jesse and Eko threw themselves at him, their arms wrapping around him in a tight, almost desperate embrace. The force of their hugs took him by surprise, but instinct kicked in, and he found himself holding them close. Despite his confusion, the warmth of their bodies and the weight of their relief grounded him.

Matthew glanced up at Mya, who stood beside him, her expression a mix of seriousness and undeniable relief. She shook her head slightly, the gravity of her words sinking in. "Whatever Xero did to you—it killed you, Matthew. The poison spread like wildfire through your body. You and Toni barely survived the attack."

His eyes widened as fragmented memories rushed back—searing pain, suffocating darkness, and the echo of his own screams reverberating in his mind. The realization hit him like a freight train, his chest tightening with the weight of how close he'd come to death. But before he could fully process it, the room erupted into action around him.

Jesse and Eko stepped back, making room as a team of doctors swarmed the bed. The air filled with the urgent hum of machinery and the soft chatter of medical professionals exchanging rapid-fire updates. Nurses adjusted IV lines, took readings, and checked his vitals with swift precision. It was overwhelming, the flurry of white coats and blinking monitors blending into a blur, but Matthew could sense the coordinated effort to keep him alive.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Dr. Keaton entered the room, his calm presence cutting through the tension like a lifeline. His Scottish accent, steady and composed, reached Matthew through the haze. His face, a mask of professionalism, held the faintest trace of a reassuring smile.

"Well, you certainly know how to keep us on our toes, don't you?" Dr. Keaton's voice carried a quiet authority as his eyes carefully scanned Matthew's face, assessing his condition and searching for signs of clarity.

Matthew managed a faint nod, his throat tight, and the lingering pain beneath his ribs throbbing with every shallow breath. The weight of the moment pressed down on him—the hum of machines, the soft whispers of medical staff, and the presence of his friends grounding him in the overwhelming reality of his survival. Eko's tear-streaked face hovered in his vision, and Jesse's wide-eyed concern lingered at the edges, a silent reminder that the nightmare wasn't entirely over.

"I'm going to need some time with Matthew," Dr. Keaton's voice cut through the haze, firm but compassionate, leaving no room for argument. "We have a lot of tests to run."

Eko and Jesse, still visibly shaken, hesitated, their hands lingering on Matthew's skin as if reluctant to fully let go. Their fingers brushed against his in a silent plea for reassurance, for confirmation that he was truly there, alive and breathing. Slowly, they stepped back, allowing Dr. Keaton to move closer, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in the room.

Mya stood a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if physically holding herself together. Her usual cool composure was beginning to unravel, the worry etched deeply into her features. Her gaze remained fixed on Matthew, softening at the sight of him conscious, but the concern that he wasn't out of danger yet still loomed over her like a storm cloud. She, like Dr. Keaton and Dr. Shields, had lingering fears about whether he had suffered any brain damage.

The lack of oxygen was the biggest unknown, and while Dr. Shields had no knowledge of the unique powers Matthew and the group possessed, Dr. Keaton, like their psychologist Teddy, understood the rare crystals they carried had enhanced their healing capabilities. It had changed the game when it came to life and death experiences. Yet even with that knowledge, Dr. Keaton couldn't shake his concerns. The crystals, while extraordinary, were not fully understood. There were no concrete studies or written rules on exactly how far they could go in repairing the human body—let alone the brain.

Jesse, sensing the growing tension and the need to break the silence, stepped forward. "While the doc checks on you, I'm going to let Toni and Richie know," she said, her voice steady but threaded with an undercurrent of anxiety. "They're upstairs dealing with the boards, trying to stop everything from spiraling into war—because half of them seem ready to charge into battle."

As she stepped closer to Matthew's bedside, her expression softened. Her voice wavered slightly as she leaned in. "Don't do that again," she whispered, firm but trembling. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her tone, something Matthew rarely heard from her. She bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, the touch fleeting but full of warmth, grounding him to the moment.

Jesse gripped his chin lightly, ensuring his focus was on her. Her eyes met his, steady and full of conviction. "You're alive, Matthew. And that's all that matters right now."

With that, Jesse turned and left the room, leaving Matthew to grapple with the swirl of emotions and the overwhelming surge of reality. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and for a moment, silence settled over the room.

Matthew ran a hand through his hair, the motion a telltale sign of his rising frustration. His mind was still struggling to catch up. "Can someone please tell me what the fuck the board is doing here?" His voice was rough, edged with irritation. His gaze swept the room before settling on the muted television, where images of the academy gates, swarming with reporters, played out silently. "What the hell happened? Why is this on the news? And why the fuck are they outside the gates of Allegiant?"

Eko, her own nerves frayed, stepped closer and gently took Matthew's hand, her touch both an anchor and a plea for calm. "There was no way to contain this, Matthew," she began softly but firmly. "Once the Mercy teams started arriving, Protocol Margot was put into place and the soldiers and headmasters went into a fucking frenzy. They're all convinced Ezra was behind this, that you and Toni were specifically targeted. And before anyone could even begin damage control, word spread like wildfire. Reporters got wind that you were both in surgery, and now they're swarming outside the gates, piecing things together faster than we can stop them."

Matthew's eyes widened as he tried to process her words, a rising sense of panic creeping into his voice. "Wait, wait—Toni was in surgery? What the fuck happened? Is he okay?" He struggled to sit up, the concern tightening his already tired features.

"Injuries to his leg, abdomen, and a few other places," Mya said, her tone calm but worn. "Toni made sure you both got here safely. As soon as you arrived, you were rushed into surgery."

Matthew blinked, his mind racing to catch up. "I was in surgery?" He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, the frustration and confusion bubbling up inside him. "I don't fucking understand any of this," he muttered, his voice rising with anger as he tried to make sense of the chaos.

Dr. Keaton cleared his throat, his tone calm yet authoritative. "I need to discuss the surgery with you, Matthew," he said, glancing between Eko and Mya. "Ladies if you both don't mind."

Mya exchanged a brief look with the nurses, who efficiently gathered their equipment and left the room. The air grew heavier as the room emptied, leaving just Eko, Matthew, and Dr. Keaton.

Eko, however, remained firm, her arms crossed, eyes unwavering. "Don't even think about it. I'm not leaving," she said, her voice resolute, daring anyone to argue otherwise.

Mya hesitated at the door, shooting Eko a knowing look before exiting, the soft click of the door reverberating in the now quiet room. Dr. Keaton turned his attention to Eko, his expression firm but measured. "Ms. Swan," he started, his tone professional, "you're not family, and this is a private matter. I need you to step out."

"Excuse me?" Eko's grip on Matthew's hand tightened, her voice sharp. "I am his family."

"Keaton," Matthew cut in, his tone commanding despite the weakness in his body. "She stays. She has every right to be here." He tried to ease the tension with a faint chuckle. "Besides, she knows about the crystal. She's Snow, after all."

Dr. Keaton nodded solemnly. "Yes, I'm aware." His voice was steady, but the weight of what Eko had done—bringing Matthew back from death—was clear in his expression. He was cautious, understanding the power at play.

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Right, then. Okay." He nodded again, irritation creeping into his voice. "Look, let's cut to the chase. Bring me up to speed. I clearly have shit to handle."

But before Dr. Keaton could respond, Eko's eyes flashed with fury. "No, no, no," she shot back, her voice rising in anger. "You do not get to act like this isn't a big deal. Go into some automatic mode of not dealing with this properly. After what just fucking happened out there, after the past twelve hours? No! You don't just get to brush this off."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Matthew's confusion deepened. He looked between Eko and Dr. Keaton, frustration mounting. "Are you both just going to stare at me, or explain what the fuck is going on?"

As Matthew shifted in bed, his gaze dropped to his chest, where the pulse markers were attached. His breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the long, angry scar running down the center of his chest. It was deep, raw, a jagged reminder that something catastrophic had happened to him. His heart pounded in his ears, and for a moment, everything else in the room faded away.

His fingers hovered above the scar, tracing the length of it without touching it, his mind reeling. This wasn't just a wound—this was the mark of something far more invasive, something that had torn him open and stitched him back together.

"What the fuck is this?" he gasped.