In the aftermath of Rohan's death, Karan confronts the true face of Sanctuary's rules—and his group must decide whether survival justifies any cost.
The gate opened.
Not for mercy. Not for compassion.
Just to clean up.
Karan knelt in the dirt, holding Rohan's body. The boy's blood had soaked into his shirt. Into his hands. Into everything.
He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Just held him.
The guards came through first. Four of them. Rifles ready. Moving like this was routine. Like they hadn't just shot a child.
Behind Karan, Dev stumbled out. His face was pale. Eyes wide. Hands shaking.
He saw Rohan's body. Saw the blood. Saw Karan.
"Oh god," Dev whispered. "Oh god, they actually—"
"Get back inside, Now," one of the guards said. Not unkind. Just firm.
Dev didn't move. Just stared.
"I said get back inside."
"They shot him," Dev said. Voice hollow. "He was just a kid. He was just asking. They—they just—they shot him!"
"He crossed the line. He was warned."
"HE WAS TWELVE!" Dev's voice cracked. Tears streaming down his face now. "He was twelve years old!"
The guard's expression didn't change. "Inside. Now."
Dev looked at Karan. At Rohan. At the guards with their weapons.
His hands were shaking so badly he could barely control them.
"Dev," Karan said quietly. First words since the shots. "Go."
"I can't just—"
"Go." Karan's voice was dead. Empty. "There's nothing you can do here."
Dev stood there. Torn. Every instinct screaming at him to help. To do something. Anything.
But the guards had guns. And he was one person. And Karan was right.
There was nothing he could do.
"I'm sorry," Dev whispered. "I'm so sorry."
He turned. Walked back through the gate. Every step felt like betrayal.
The gate didn't close behind him. The guards stayed outside.
One of them approached Karan. Older. Grizzled. The kind of face that had seen too much and stopped caring.
"Let go of the body," he said.
Karan didn't respond. Didn't even look up.
"Sir, I need you to release the body. We have to remove it from the perimeter."
"No."
"It's not a request."
"I said no." Karan's arms tightened around Rohan. "You're not touching him."
"Sir—"
"His name was Rohan." Karan finally looked up. Eyes red. Voice raw. "He had a name. He had a father. He had a life. And you shot him like a dog."
The guard's expression flickered. Something human underneath. Then it was gone.
"I was following orders."
"Fuck—your—orders!"
"Sir, I understand you're upset—"
"Upset?" Karan laughed. High and broken. "I'm upset? You murdered a child and I'm upset?"
"He crossed the line. He was warned multiple times—"
"HE WAS TWELVE!" Karan's voice shattered. "He was a scared kid! He just... he just wanted to... to live!"
The guard didn't respond. Just stood there. Waiting.
"At least let me bury him," Karan said. His voice dropped. Pleading now. "Please. Don't just... don't just leave him out here. Let me bury him."
"That's not procedure."
"Fuck procedure!"
"We have to remove the body—"
"He's not a body!" Karan pulled Rohan closer. "He's a person! He deserves... he deserves better than this. Better than being dragged off like garbage."
"I have my orders—"
"Your orders are shit! Your orders killed a child!" Karan tried to stand. Nearly fell. His legs wouldn't work. "Just let me bury him. Please. I'm begging you. Just let me bury him."
The guard looked at his team. They looked back. Uncertain.
"I can't authorize that," the guard said finally.
"Then get someone who can!" Karan's voice rose again. "Get Advait! Get whoever! Just let me bury him!"
"Sir, you need to calm down—"
"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!"
Two guards moved in. Grabbed Karan's arms. Started pulling him away from Rohan's body.
Karan fought. Weak. Exhausted. But fought anyway.
"No! No, don't! Please!" His fingers slipped on Rohan's shirt. Lost their grip. "Don't take him! Please!"
They pulled him back. Away. One guard picked up Rohan's body. Casual. Like picking up a sack of grain.
"NO!" Karan thrashed. Tried to break free. "Put him down! PUT HIM DOWN!"
The guard carrying Rohan started walking.
Something broke in Karan.
He found strength from somewhere. Adrenaline. Rage. Grief. Something.
He tore free from the guards. Lunged at the one carrying Rohan. Grabbed his arm.
"I SAID PUT HIM DOWN!"
The guard stumbled. Rohan's body started to slip.
Three guards tackled Karan. Slammed him to the ground. Face in the dirt. Arms pinned behind his back.
He couldn't move. Could barely breathe. But he kept screaming.
"For god's sake! Just let me bury him! Don't leave a child out here like trash! PLEASE!"
They didn't listen. Just held him down while the guard adjusted his grip on Rohan's body and kept walking.
"No," Karan sobbed into the dirt. "No, please. Please don't. He deserves better. He deserves—"
His voice broke completely. Dissolved into sounds that weren't words anymore. Just grief. Raw and endless.
The guards held him down. Silent. Professional. Waiting for orders.
"Let him up."
Everyone froze.
Advait's voice. Coming from the gate.
Karan's head snapped up. Saw him standing there. Clean shirt. Calm expression. Like he hadn't just ordered a child's execution.
"Sir?" one of the guards asked.
"Let him up. And give him the body."
"Sir, protocol states—"
"I know what protocol states. I wrote it." Advait walked forward. Stopped a few meters away. "Give him the body. Let him bury it. Then escort him inside."
The guards exchanged looks. Then released Karan. Backed off.
The one holding Rohan hesitated. Then set him down gently. Stepped away.
Karan crawled to Rohan. Pulled him close again. Body wracked with sobs.
Advait watched. Silent. Waiting.
Finally, Karan looked up. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why let me bury him now? After..." Karan's voice shook. "After what you did?"
"Because you asked," Advait said simply. "And because even in this world, some things matter. Dignity. Respect for the dead. Basic humanity."
Karan stared at him. "You have no right to talk about humanity. Not after this."
"Maybe not." Advait's expression didn't change. "But I'm talking about it anyway."
"He was a child."
"I know."
"He was just scared."
"I know."
"Then why?" Karan's voice rose again. "Why did you kill him?"
"Because he crossed the line. Because rules without consequences are just suggestions. Because—"
"Because you're a monster."
Advait was quiet for a moment. "Perhaps. But I'm a monster who keeps sixty-three people alive. How many people have you kept alive, Karan?"
"Don't." Karan's voice was dangerous. "Don't you dare."
"I'm not judging. I'm stating facts." Advait gestured around. "This world doesn't run on hope or kindness or good intentions. It runs on hard choices. Difficult calls. Actions that keep the many alive even if it costs the few."
"He was one boy. One."
"He was an unauthorized variable. An unknown. A risk I didn't plan for." Advait's tone remained calm. Reasonable. "If I let him in, I set a precedent. Next time someone shows up, I have to let them in too. And the time after that. And eventually we're overrun. Resources depleted. Systems broken. And everyone dies."
"So better to let one child die?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "Better one than sixty-three. The math is simple."
Karan's hands clenched. ""It's not math! It's a life—a God— a Goddamn human life!"
"Everything's math now. Food. Water. Ammunition. Space. People." Advait paused. "I make the calculations so you don't have to. I carry the weight so you can sleep at night. That's my job."
"Your job is to murder."
"My job is survival. There's a difference." Advait looked at Rohan's body. "I'm sorry it came to this. Genuinely. But I'd make the same choice again. Every time. Because that's what keeps us alive."
Karan stood slowly. Carefully. Rohan's body in his arms.
"I'm going to kill you," he said quietly. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, I'm going to put a bullet in your head."
"Maybe you will." Advait didn't seem concerned. "But not today. Today you're going to bury that boy. Then you're going to come inside. Rest. Recover. And tomorrow you'll go back to work. Because you don't have anywhere else to go."
"I could leave."
"You could. And you'd be dead within a week. Maybe less." Advait's voice softened slightly. "I know you hate me right now. That's fine. Hate me. But use that hate to stay alive. To keep your team alive. To survive long enough that maybe someday you do get your chance."
He turned. Started walking back to the gate.
"There's a shovel by the east wall. Take your time. The guards will wait."
He disappeared inside.
Karan stood there. Holding Rohan. Shaking with rage and grief and exhaustion.
The guards kept their distance. Gave him space.
He found the shovel. Found a spot. Started digging.
The ground was hard. His hands blistered. His back screamed. But he kept digging.
Dug until the hole was deep enough. Proper. Respectful.
Then he laid Rohan inside. Gently. Like putting a child to bed.
"I'm sorry," Karan whispered. "I promised your father I'd protect you. I failed. I'm so sorry."
He filled in the dirt. Packed it down. Found rocks to mark the spot.
When he was done, he knelt there. Said words. Not prayers exactly. Just... words. About a boy who deserved better. Who tried so hard. Who just wanted to live.
The sun was setting when he finished.
The guards approached. Silent. Respectful now, at least.
"We should go inside, sir."
Karan took one last look at the grave. At the rocks marking where a twelve-year-old boy lay because the world was cruel and survival was crueler.
Then he stood. Followed them inside.
The gate closed behind him.
Night had fallen by the time Samir got back from training.
He was exhausted. Sore. Nisha had run them hard today. Drills until his arms shook. Target practice until he couldn't see straight.
He headed to the cafeteria. Found the group at their usual table.
Dev was there. Head in his hands. Not eating.
Vikram sat beside him. Quiet. Somber.
Taj was there too. Looking shaken.
"What happened?" Samir asked. "Why does everyone look like—"
Then he saw Karan.
Sitting at the end of the table. Staring at nothing. Covered in dirt. Hands raw and bleeding.
"Karan?"
Karan didn't respond. Didn't even blink.
Samir looked at Dev. "What happened?"
Dev's voice came out broken. "They shot a kid. Karan tried to save him. Brought him here. Advait wouldn't let him in. The kid ran toward the gate. And they..." He stopped. Couldn't finish.
"They shot him," Taj finished quietly. "Multiple times. Killed him."
Samir felt the words hit like physical blows. "What?"
"A twelve-year-old boy," Dev said. "His name was Rohan. He was just scared. And they killed him."
"Who killed him? The guards?"
"On Advait's orders." Vikram's voice was tight. Controlled rage. "He gave the order. They followed it."
Samir looked at Karan. "Is this true?"
Karan's eyes finally focused. Looked at Samir. "His father asked me to protect him. Made me promise. I promised." His voice was hollow. "I failed."
"You didn't fail. You tried. You did everything—"
"I failed." Karan stood. "His father trusted me. Rohan trusted me. And I led him to a place that murdered him for asking to come inside."
He walked away. Toward the sleeping quarters.
The table fell silent.
Then the others started arriving. Reyan from a supply run. Arjun from kitchen duty. Meera from perimeter patrol.
They gathered. Sat down. Dev explained again. Each telling making it worse. Making it more real.
When he finished, Reyan was pale. "They shot a child."
"On Advait's orders," Vikram repeated.
Arjun looked sick. "This place. This Sanctuary. What are we doing here?"
"Surviving," Meera said. Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"Don't," she said. "Don't look at me like that. I told you. From the beginning. This is a devil's bargain. We choose which devil fucks us—the one inside these walls or the one outside."
"This is different—" Taj started.
"Is it?" Meera cut him off. "Advait told us the rules. Day one. No unauthorized outsiders. No exceptions. Karan knew that. He violated it anyway. Consequences happened."
"He was trying to save a child!" Dev's voice rose.
"And the child died anyway. Because Karan made a choice without thinking about consequences. Without considering what it would cost." Meera leaned forward. "I'm not saying it's right. I'm saying it's reality. Advait runs this place on rules. Hard rules. You break them, people die. That's how it works."
"So we just accept this?" Samir asked. "We just nod and say 'well, those are the rules'?"
"We accept that survival is ugly. That sometimes good people make terrible choices because the alternative is worse." Meera looked around the table. "You want to blame someone? Blame the infected. Blame the outbreak. Blame whatever started this. But don't pretend Advait's a monster for doing what keeps us alive."
"He killed a child!" Reyan's voice shook. "How is that keeping us alive?"
"By making sure everyone knows the rules. By showing that he doesn't make exceptions. Even for children. Even when it's hard." Meera stood. "You don't have to like it. Hell, I don't like it. But I understand it. And so do you, even if you won't admit it."
She walked away.
The table was silent.
Then footsteps. Fast. Angry.
Karan stood up and started walking. Walking with purpose. Eyes fixed on something.
"Where's he going?" Taj asked.
Reyan saw the look on Karan's face. Recognized it. "Stop him."
They moved.
Karan was heading toward the administrative wing. Toward Advait's office. Hand on his knife.
Reyan reached him first. Grabbed his arm. "Don't."
"Let go." Karan's voice was cold. Dead.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't do it."
"I'm going to kill him." Karan tried to pull away. "I'm going to walk into that office and I'm going to put a knife in his throat and I'm going to watch him choke on his own blood."
"And then what?" Reyan held firm. "Then they execute you. Then maybe they execute all of us for being associated with you. Then what?"
"I don't care."
"Well I do!" Reyan stepped in front of him. "I have a daughter. A seven-year-old girl who lives here. Who depends on this place to survive. You do this, you put her at risk."
"Then look away."
"I can't." Reyan's voice cracked. "I can't watch you throw your life away. I can't watch you destroy everything we've built. I can't—"
"He killed a child!" Karan roared. "He looked at a twelve-year-old boy and gave an order to shoot him! How can you defend that?"
"I'm not defending it! I'm saying revenge won't fix it!" Reyan's hands were shaking. "You kill him, Rohan's still dead. But you'll be dead too. And maybe more of us. Is that what you want? More deaths?"
Taj moved in. Gentle. "Karan. Listen. We're not saying forget this. We're not saying forgive him. We're saying... think. Plan. Be smart about it."
"Smart about what?"
"About getting justice. About making sure this doesn't happen again." Taj's voice was soft but firm. "You go in there angry, you die. And nothing changes. But if you stay alive, if you wait, if you watch—maybe you get your chance. A real chance."
"He deserves to die tonight."
"He does," Reyan agreed. "But that doesn't mean you have to be the one to kill him. Not tonight. Not like this."
Karan stood there. Trembling. Every muscle screaming at him to move. To act. To do something.
But Reyan was right. Taj was right.
Going in there angry meant death. His death. Maybe others.
And Rohan would still be dead.
"Think about the others," Samir said. He'd come up behind them. "Think about Dev. He watched that kid die. He's barely holding it together. You go on a suicide mission, he loses you too."
"Think about your team," Vikram added. "Meera. Ravi. They depend on you."
"Think about my daughter," Reyan said quietly. "Please. She's already lost so much. Don't make her lose more because of this."
Karan's hands slowly unclenched. The knife stayed in its sheath.
"I want him dead," he said. Voice shaking. "I want to watch the life leave his eyes."
"Then stay alive long enough to make that happen," Reyan said. "The right way. The smart way."
Karan looked at him. At all of them. At the people who'd become his family in this nightmare.
"I hate this," he said. "I hate that you're right."
"So do I," Reyan admitted. "But we're not murderers. Not yet. We cross that line, what are we? What's the difference between us and them?"
"The difference is we'd have a reason."
"Reasons don't bring people back." Reyan's voice was soft. "Trust me. I know."
Karan stood there for a long moment. Then his shoulders sagged. The rage drained out of him. Left him empty. Hollow.
"I need to be alone," he said.
"We're here," Taj said. "When you're ready. We're here."
Karan nodded once. Turned. Walked toward the sleeping quarters.
The group watched him go.
"He's going to do it anyway," Samir said quietly. "Maybe not tonight. But eventually."
"I know," Reyan said. "But at least tonight he's alive. Tomorrow we can worry about tomorrow."
They dispersed slowly. Back to bunks. To beds. To pretending they could sleep after what they'd learned.
Reyan found his daughter asleep. Checked on her. Kissed her forehead. Then sat on the floor with his back against the wall.
Stared at nothing.
Thought about children dying. About promises breaking. About how survival stripped away everything that made you human.
And wondered how much longer any of them could keep doing this.
Outside, the night was quiet. Guards on the walls. Generators humming. Sixty-three people sleeping or trying to sleep.
And fifty meters east of the gate, a small grave marked with rocks.
Where a boy named Rohan lay because he'd wanted to live.
And safety had killed him.