Edwin stood in the back of the courtroom, arms crossed, jaw tight. Beside him, Sophie watched in silence, her eyes locked on Thomas—chained at the neck, wrists, and ankles, standing before the three judges like a relic from a darker time.
Damn, brother, Edwin thought. How'd you end up here? First time I see you awake in months, and you're in chains.
He glanced at Sophie and the officer ( whose name was Luke) who'd survived the factory. I believe you, even if you're a stubborn idiot. You're innocent. I know it.
Sophie leaned in, whispering, "I should've been up there helping him defend himself."
Edwin replied under his breath, "Then we'd all be on trial. You know how it works—cause a scene, they send you to the Gaulet. That's why crime's low. Fear keeps the peace."
Sophie nodded quietly.
Edwin scanned the room. It was packed. Not with ordinary citizens—but with people who mattered. Government officials. High-ranking officers. Bankers. Politicians. Why are they all here? he wondered. This case was kept off the news. Low profile. So why the crowd?
Then Thomas's voice rang out, defiant and raw: "I will not get the mark!"
Edwin's heart dropped. "You idiot!" he hissed, too loud.
Sophie grabbed his arm. "Edwin, calm down."
Heads turned. Eyes locked onto him. The judge slammed his gavel.
"Order! Thomas Stone, you are hereby sentenced to death by Gaulet. Case closed."
The escorts moved fast, grabbing Thomas by the chains. "Let's go."
Edwin surged forward, trying to reach his brother. Cops blocked him, hands on his chest.
"Thomas!" Edwin called out, voice torn between rage and heartbreak.
Thomas turned, eyes meeting Edwin's. No words. Just a look—pain, resolve, and something else. Acceptance.
The escorts shoved him forward. The Gaulet awaited. Every Wednesday night. Open to the public. A spectacle of retribution. Or murder. Society's way of staying clean.
Sophie was crying now, quiet but visible. Edwin wrapped an arm around her.
"It's okay," he said. "We'll fix this. We have to try."
She nodded, tears streaking her face. Edwin led her out, shielding her from the stares.
As they reached the car, Edwin turned and saw two men in suits approaching fast.
He shoved Sophie into the passenger seat. "Stay in the car," he said.
The taller man stepped forward. "We've got a message from Light."
He pulled out a revolver massive, gleaming, a .357 that looked like a cannon.
Without thinking, Edwin rushed him. He tackled the gunman, wrestling for control, unaware the second man was armed too. The first gunman fired a shot into the air—warning. Sophie flinched in the mirror, reaching for the door.
"Stay in the car!" Edwin shouted.
He headbutted the gunman, knocking him back, then yanked the revolver free and turned it on the second man.
"Drop it!" Edwin barked.
The second man raised his weapon but before he could fire, a flash lit the street.
Bang.
The second gunman dropped dead.
Edwin spun, still holding the first man as a shield. He shoved him back and fired two shots to the chest. The man collapsed.
Edwin looked up, breathing hard.
A figure stepped forward from the shadows. Albino skin. Long blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes.
"Don't worry," the man said calmly. "I'm not a foe."
Edwin raised the revolver. "Who are you?"
The man smiled. "I'm Ice."