The pain didn't come all at once.
It spread.
Like ink dropped into water, blooming outward from the wound in Ash's side. Every breath scraped. Every heartbeat burned.
Rain soaked into his clothes, cold and relentless, but Vernon's hands were warm — too warm — pressed hard against the bleeding, shaking despite his effort to stay calm.
"Stay with me," Vernon said. It wasn't a command. It was a plea.
Ash tried to smile. It came out crooked. "You're… bad at giving orders."
Vernon's jaw tightened. "Don't."
The alley trembled.
Not like an earthquake. Like something struggling to decide whether it should exist.
The walls blurred at the edges, bending inward, as if the space itself was folding. The rain froze midair for a split second, droplets suspended like shattered glass.
Then—
The Collectors screamed.
Not words. Not voices.
A sound like metal tearing through bone.
Vernon looked up sharply, eyes scanning the alley. "They're losing their hold."
Ash's vision swam. "Good," he whispered. "Hate them."
"You're not allowed to pass out," Vernon said fiercely. "Not now."
Ash swallowed, forcing his eyes open. "You're scared."
Vernon didn't deny it.
"I've watched you die more times than I can count," he said, voice low and raw. "I'm not watching it again."
Something flickered at the far end of the alley.
A distortion. Like heat over asphalt.
A Collector emerged — but it wasn't whole.
Its form glitched, edges tearing and reforming, eyes blinking in and out of existence.
"Correction failed," it hissed.
"Bond interference critical."
Ash laughed weakly. "You hear that? We're a problem."
The Collector's gaze snapped to him.
"You were not meant to choose."
Ash's breathing hitched, but he didn't look away. "Funny thing about that."
Vernon slowly rose to his feet, placing himself between Ash and the entity.
"He chose me," Vernon said quietly. "That's the part you never accounted for."
The Collector stepped closer. The alley warped with every movement it made.
"Attachment destabilizes outcome."
"Yes," Vernon agreed. "That's the point."
The air shattered.
Fragments of other places bled through the alley — rooftops, tunnels, classrooms, burning compounds. Ash glimpsed flashes of lives half-remembered, half-forgotten.
Hands clasped in the dark.
A gun slipping from trembling fingers.
A kiss stolen between missions.
The Collector staggered.
"Cycle breach escalating."
Another voice echoed — not from the Collectors.
From inside Ash.
Get up.
The voice wasn't loud.
But it was familiar.
Ash sucked in a sharp breath.
His fingers twitched.
Vernon felt it instantly. "Ash?"
The voice spoke again — steadier now.
You didn't survive this many endings to stop here.
Ash gritted his teeth and pushed himself up on one elbow. Pain flared white-hot, but he stayed upright.
The Collector recoiled.
"Anomaly—"
Ash met its gaze, blood on his hands, rain in his eyes. "You don't own us."
The Collector raised its arm—
And something snapped.
The alley collapsed inward, folding like paper. Light tore through the cracks, blinding and absolute.
Vernon lunged, wrapping an arm around Ash as the world gave way beneath them.
They hit solid ground — hard.
Ash cried out, the impact jarring the wound. Vernon rolled with him, shielding him instinctively.
When the spinning stopped, Ash lay gasping, rain gone, cold replaced by stillness.
Silence.
Real silence.
No hum of distortion. No whispers. No echoes of other lives pressing in.
Vernon slowly pushed himself up, scanning their surroundings.
They were inside a small room.
Concrete walls. A single light overhead. A table. Two chairs.
A door.
"A safehouse?" Ash murmured.
Vernon frowned. "No."
The door opened.
A man stepped inside — calm, composed, eyes sharp with a familiarity that made Ash's stomach twist.
Lucian.
"You've finally done it," Lucian said quietly.
Vernon stiffened. "Done what?"
Lucian looked at Ash — really looked at him — then nodded once, almost… respectfully.
"Broken the loop."
Ash exhaled shakily. "That didn't feel broken."
Lucian smiled faintly. "It never does at first."
Vernon's voice hardened. "You knew this would happen."
"Yes."
"And you let it."
Lucian didn't deny it. "Someone had to reach the point where choice outweighed design."
Ash laughed bitterly. "So I was bait."
Lucian met his gaze evenly. "You were necessary."
Vernon stepped forward, anger simmering beneath his calm. "If you ever put him in front of a gun again—"
"You'll kill me," Lucian finished. "Yes. I know."
He gestured to Ash's wound. "He needs treatment. Now."
Vernon hesitated — then nodded. "Talk later."
Lucian moved aside as Vernon helped Ash toward the table, laying him down gently.
As Vernon worked, hands steady despite the fear in his eyes, Ash watched him.
"You stayed," Ash whispered.
Vernon didn't look up. "Always."
Ash's vision blurred — not from pain this time.
"When this is over," he said softly, "when there's no cycle, no orders—"
Vernon met his gaze. "Then we'll decide who we are."
Ash smiled faintly. "I'd like that."
Lucian watched them in silence.
Then he spoke, voice low.
"The Collectors won't stop," he said. "Not now. You've shown them something worse than rebellion."
Vernon glanced up. "What's that?"
Lucian's eyes darkened.
"Hope."
The light flickered once.
And somewhere far beyond the walls of the safehouse, something ancient and furious began to move.