The team moved with quiet efficiency, blending seamlessly into their surroundings. Five members took up positions with practiced ease, their movements calculated to cover every angle. The sixth lingered nearby, ready to call for backup should the situation spiral out of control.

Across from the church, Raine loitered near the minimart, her cousin's insistence keeping her at a safe distance from any potential danger. She watched intently as the scene unfolded, her eyes never straying far from the crowd. When Zane appeared, she followed his movements closely. Then, without warning, he slipped through the throng and disappeared, leaving her scanning the crowd in vain.

"Raine, stay put," DI Ferrer’s voice crackled through her earpiece.

From his vantage point, Ferrer and another officer spotted Zane, subtly guided through the crowd. They followed without drawing attention, weaving through the crowd until they reached a dim alley. A figure in a black hoodie lingered at the far end, blending into the shadows.

Zane lay on the damp pavement, his eyes wide and vacant. The woman knelt beside him, seeming to be planning something. A syringe glinted nearby, hinting at the probable cause of his limp, unresponsive state.

“Halt!” Ferrer barked, the scene snapping into focus. In one swift motion, he drew his firearm, levelling it at the shadowed figure. “N.A.P.D.! Hands where I can see them!”

The woman emerged from the darkness, her gloved hands moving with chilling precision. A faint glint of steel flashed in the fading light. Her lips curved into a cold smile—wordless, yet full of intent.

Ferrer held his ground, eyes locked on her, assessing every move. His thumb brushed the earpiece. “Reinforcements to the alleyway, east of the church,” he muttered, then added, “And an ambulance.”

“Copy that, sir,” crackled the response from the station.

“I’ve worked too hard for this. It doesn’t end tonight,” the woman murmured.

Ferrer’s eyes narrowed, his stance rigid. The officer beside him shifted forward, every muscle taut. “Step into the light. Now!” he commanded. “Drop your weapon!” came the final warning, echoing down the narrow alley.

The woman’s body tensed, her grip tightening around the trembling knife. Her pulse pounded in her ears, breath sharp and shallow. Eyes darting between the syringe and Zane, she made her move.

In one swift motion, she ducked low, snatching the syringe. Without hesitation, she yanked her black mask over her face and bolted toward the alley’s far end.

Ferrer reacted instantly, shouting orders, but she was already in motion. Reaching a chain-link gate, she vaulted onto it, scaling with fluid precision. In seconds, she vanished over the top, her silhouette dissolving into the night.

The alley exploded with noise. Dogs barked furiously from nearby yards, their howls piercing the air. A flock of doves burst skyward, wings slicing through the twilight in a flurry of white and grey, scattering like ghosts against the darkening sky.

“Suspect on the run!” DI Ferrer barked into his earpiece, already in motion. “Westbound, armed with a knife. I need backup—now!”

The officers responded instantly, spreading out to block every possible escape route. Their movements were precise, the net closing in on the woman as she vanished deeper into the maze of alleyways.

Raine stiffened as the transmission crackled through. The word ambulance hit her like a jolt. Zane. Something was wrong—she could feel it in her bones. Rising from her spot, she tuned in, straining to catch the next vital clue from the voices buzzing in her ear.

Instinct took over. The next street—she had to get there before the police boxed in their target. Without a second thought, Raine surged forward, weaving through the labyrinth of narrow streets.

As she approached the intersection, her cousin’s urgent call for backup echoed, heightening the tension. Suddenly, a figure in black hurtled past her.

The collision was abrupt. Raine staggered, the sharp clatter of falling objects slicing through the silence. The syringe skittered across the pavement, stopping mere feet from her dart gun.

For a heartbeat, time stretched thin. Both women stood frozen, locked in a moment where everything balanced on the edge.

Before Raine could regain her balance, the cold press of a blade met her throat, the sharp steel biting into her skin. A firm arm yanked her back, pinning her in place. The woman's scent—a sharp, floral perfume tinged with the unmistakable scent of rose petals—clung to the air, invading Raine's senses.

The knife edged closer, but Raine's gaze held steady, locking onto the woman's dark eyes—eyes that were disturbingly familiar. Recognition flickered in the depths of her mind, followed by an unsettling calm.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Raine's lips, a quiet challenge. "We meet again," she murmured, the hint of a grin betraying the nerves she refused to show.

“Oh, so you still remember me, huh?” The woman’s voice dripped with amusement. “No matter. I’ve been watching you since you were a child. Tell me, did you enjoy my little presents?”

Raine’s lips curled into a defiant smirk. “Presents?” she echoed, her tone light but edged with mockery.

Before the woman could retort, the sound of footsteps echoed through the alley, drawing nearer. Police emerged from every direction—front, left, and right—closing in like a tightening noose. The woman’s gaze flicked around rapidly, calculating, her mind working through her next move. The air crackled with tension as the silence stretched between them.

"Go on, shoot me!" the woman taunted. The knife pressed harder against Raine's neck, a cold, hollow laugh escaping her lips. "Shoot us both!"

The officers hesitated, their fingers twitching near their triggers, eyes locked on the tense standoff.

Raine's smile never faltered. "Do you think I'm afraid of that? You claim to have watched me for so long—you should know better."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the woman's face, the smallest crack in her façade.

“Are you sure you're not scared to die?” the woman asked.

“You’re the one who’s scared, madame,” she replied, her voice a low, cutting truth. Without warning, she leaned in, close enough for the woman to hear her whispered words. “My own death will be the greatest present you’ll ever give me.”

"Put her down—and drop your weapon!" Ferrer's command cut through the air, his team's guns trained on the woman with precision. “Don't let me repeat those words, madame!”

The sound of the approaching ambulance grew louder, the rumble of police cars echoing through the streets, their lights flashing like a beacon in the growing darkness.

Curious eyes peeked from behind drawn curtains, whispers spreading through the neighbourhood. Yet none dared to step into the chaos, all too fearful to get involved.

"Then we both will die tonight," the woman whispered. Her grip tightened around the knife, the blade gleaming ominously as she raised it higher, preparing to strike.

Just as the tension peaked, the woman's grip faltered. The knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the ground with a sharp ring. Her body lurched backward, collapsing with a thud, as though the very life had been drained from her.

From one of the back houses, the hiss of a tranquilizer dart sliced through the air, striking with precision. It embedded into her spinal cord, and she froze, her body going limp.

"Where did that come from?" the police murmured, eyes scanning the surroundings in confusion. "Who took the shot?"

“Search for it—some of you,” DI Ferrer commanded sharply, his gaze sweeping over the scene.

The police moved quickly, their guns still raised, maintaining a tight perimeter and some were around the unconscious woman. DI Ferrer gestured for officers to pull Raine aside, but she brushed past them, unfazed. With swift movements, she retrieved her dart gun from the ground and pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket, slipping them on with quiet focus.

Ferrer, his attention fixed on the woman, knelt down and carefully removed the black mask. As it fell away, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. The woman’s features—pale, sharp—were unmistakable.

They had seen her before.

“She pulled off a neat trick. I didn’t see that one coming,” Raine remarked casually, her gaze fixed on the empty syringe the woman had dropped earlier. She bent down, picking it up with a steady hand, inspecting the contents with quiet interest.

Some of the police officers fanned out, searching for whoever had made the shot, while paramedics approached, checking the fallen woman's pulse.

“She’s alive, just temporarily put to sleep,” said one of the medics, Mrs. Bartolomeo.

“How long before she wakes up?” DI Ferrer asked, his eyes on the unconscious woman.

“It depends, sir. But we’ll monitor her in the meantime,” Mrs. Bartolomeo replied, gesturing to her team. They moved swiftly, bringing the stretcher closer to carefully lift the suspect.

At the same time, one of the paramedics approached Raine, medical kit in hand. “Ma’am, I just need to check you over,” Mr. Morales said calmly, stopping beside her. “Standard procedure.”

“I’m fine, really. No dizziness, no breathing issues,” Raine insisted, folding her arms. “I’m perfectly alright.”

“Humour him, Raine. I’m not taking any chances,” her cousin, DI Ferrer, interjected, his tone firm but laced with concern.

“Kuya George, I wasn’t hit at all,” she insisted.

Mr. Morales smiled faintly. “Let me at least check your vitals. Won’t take a minute.” He proceeded to check her pulse and blood pressure. After a moment, he examined her neck for any sign of blood. Luckily, there was none—just a faint pinkish hue that would soon fade.

Raine sighed. “I’m still alive. See?”

“You know I worry for a reason,” DI Ferrer muttered, watching her closely.

Raine rolled her eyes.

The paramedic finished his checks and nodded. “Vitals are normal. No immediate concerns. Just rest for the night and stay hydrated.”

Raine smirked. “I’m perfectly fine. Can I go now?”

“You’re going straight back home after this,” DI Ferrer replied.

“But Kuya—” Raine began, knowing full well she’d be heading to the hospital to examine the evidence instead.

“Raine. Protocol,” DI Ferrer replied firmly. “We’ll give you a lift. It’s safer that way.”

As they approached the vehicle, Ferrer paused. His gaze flickered to the paramedic’s kit. Without a word, he grabbed a folded emergency blanket and draped it over her shoulders before she could protest.

“Wait. Just in case,” he said, his tone resolute.

Raine blinked, incredulous. “Seriously? I’m not freezing, Kuya George.”

“Does it look like I'm joking?” he replied, his gaze steady. “Wear that or I’ll make sure you’re off my team for good.”

She sighed, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he quipped, a rare smirk tugging at his lips as they continued walking.

“Debatable,” she muttered, though a faint smile betrayed her words.

The press arrived, their cameras flashing, the strobe lights momentarily blinding. The image of Zane flashed in Raine’s mind, his face a sudden reminder of the danger he was in. Her grip tightened on the blanket around her shoulders as she pushed through the crowd, her footsteps quickening.

She ran toward the next street, where the ambulances had parked. The police had already formed a tight perimeter, ushering the onlookers away. Raine’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Zane, her pulse quickening in response.

Each breath she took seemed to grow shorter, her vision narrowing as her heart pounded against her chest. She stumbled slightly, a wave of dizziness overtaking her, but she pushed it down, focusing solely on finding him.

Raine’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Zane, his posture slumped, a weariness settling over him despite the emergency blanket draped over his shoulders. He looked so out of place, his usually confident demeanor replaced with exhaustion.

“Raine? What are you doing here?” Zane asked, his eyes widening briefly before he faltered, his gaze flicking to the blanket wrapped around her. “Why do you have— Why do you have a blanket?”

Raine stopped a few paces in front of him, the smile she’d been wearing fading into something more serious. “Before I answer that, I’d like you to answer those questions first.”

Zane sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had settled upon him. His breath was shallow, uneven, a far cry from his usual calm composure. He lowered his gaze, avoiding her eyes as a silence stretched between them.

Raine’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing his reluctance to speak. She tilted her head, watching the way his hands trembled beneath the blanket.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Zane,” she continued, her voice steady but firm. “You’ve been playing this game—this act like you’ve got it all figured out. But I can see it. You know at least some of my phenotypes. Every time we get into these situations, you act like you’re fine, but you’re not.” She paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before she added, “Why keep putting yourself in danger like this? Why follow me when you know it’ll only make things worse for you? Why do this?”

Zane’s eyes flicked to hers, a flicker of something unreadable in them, before he quickly looked away. His breath hitched, but he didn’t speak.

Raine’s gaze sharpened as her mind sifted through the subtle signs—small, but unmistakable. The way Zane had massaged his temples after long days, the bouts of dizziness he’d shrugged off, his sudden anxieties, and the forgetfulness that seemed to worsen. His avoidance of eye contact—like a man weighed down by a burden he refused to share—was the final clue. The recordings from the earpiece she had given him only confirmed her suspicions.

“You’re not just frightened,” she said. “There’s something you’re hiding, isn’t there? The headaches, the exhaustion. Even now, your hands tremble.”

Zane stiffened, but the words lodged in his throat, his silence speaking volumes.

“You know,” Raine murmured, her voice low, as if acknowledging the truth might break the fragile moment between them. “You’ve had scans, haven’t you? An MRI, perhaps. Something they found?”

Zane’s head snapped up, his eyes betraying shock and fear. “How—How did you know?”

“I simply observe, Zane,” Raine answered. “You’ve been carrying yourself like time’s running out. Taking risks, following me into danger, as if none of it matters anymore.”

Zane swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the blanket. “It’s nothing. Just a complicated headache.”

Raine’s eyes sharpened. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, hastily shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth, as if it would shield him.

“Don’t try to fool me, Mr. Nuñez. Want me to raise the stakes? I’m serious,” Raine insisted. “Tell me the truth. Why?”

Zane sighed, the weight of his words pressing on him. His breath hitched as he finally let it slip. “I’m dying.”

Raine’s expression softened, but her voice remained steady. “Of course. We all have one final destination—death,” she replied.

Zane's eyes darted around, making sure no one else could hear them. “You don’t get it, Raine,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m dying. I have an unruptured brain aneurysm. Any second now, it could rupture.”

Raine inhaled deeply, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “And any second now, that sleeping drug the woman injected you with might take effect,” she said, her voice even. She stood up and gestured to one of the paramedics nearby, the same one who had tried to check on her earlier. “He’ll be unconscious soon, sir. You might want to take that chocolate from him for now. If it falls, it won’t be fit for consumption.”

Before the paramedic could act, Zane’s body went limp. His eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open, but the overwhelming effects of the drug soon took hold. The chocolate wrapper slipped from his hand, fluttering to the ground as his body slumped, nearly toppling from the ambulance door.

One of the paramedics, spotting him just in time, rushed to steady him, lifting him back inside with swift motion.

"Is he alright?" DI Ferrer asked, stepping closer to Raine.

"I hope so," she replied, her gaze locked on the closing ambulance doors, its siren beginning to wail.

"The shooter might still be around," Ferrer continued. "We don’t know if he's a friend or foe. It’s best you head home now… And where’s your blanket?"

"I have a feeling we’ll meet that shooter sooner than we expect," she said, watching the ambulance vanish into the distance, headed for the hospital, where both the woman and Zane would be taken.