Chapter 41: protection
Part 1: Allan
Allan woke up without arms or legs.
The explosion had taken them. The Architect had taken them. He lay in a hospital bed for weeks, staring at the ceiling, remembering the cold eyes behind the mask. Remembering the camera filming his destruction.
When the doctors asked if he wanted prosthetic limbs, he said yes.
The surgery took six hours. When he woke up, he had new arms. New legs. They didn't feel like his. They felt like tools. But tools could be useful.
He learned to walk again. It hurt. He fell. He got up. He fell again. He kept going.
One day, he saw the Architect on the street. Alone. Carrying a bag of guns.
Allan's blood burned. He wanted to kill him. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not with a bag of guns between them.
He asked, "Why did you leave me to die?"
The Architect looked at him. Not with guilt. Not with pity. Just cold, empty eyes.
"You were a tool, Allan. When a tool breaks, you throw it away. That's how nature works."
Allan felt something crack inside him. But he didn't scream. He didn't cry. He just said, "Ok."
And walked away.
But he memorized the Architect's face. His voice. His walk. Everything.
One day, he would find him again. One day, he would make him pay.
---
Part 2: Luna
Luna stood outside the New Townman Hotel.
It was alone. Empty fields on all sides. No other buildings. Just this ugly, grey building under a grey sky.
She felt wrong. The air felt wrong. Something was waiting.
She stepped toward the gate.
"Be careful."
She froze. The voice came from behind her. A voice she knew.
She turned.
John stood there. Her son. Her dead son.
He looked exactly like he did before. Before the Architect. Before the knife. Before the silence.
"John?" she whispered.
"No one escapes justice," he said.
She blinked. He was gone.
Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. She told herself it wasn't real. Just her mind playing tricks. Just grief and guilt and exhaustion.
She turned back toward the hotel.
Another figure stood in her way.
The Old Man. Her father-in-law. His herringbone coat was torn. His hands were wrapped in bloody bandages.
"What remains of Noah is just flesh," he said. "No shred of dignity. No hope."
Luna covered her ears. "Stop. Please. Stop."
The Old Man stepped closer. His clear blue eyes were sad. Tired. Empty.
"He killed me, Luna. He killed his own father. He killed his mother. He killed everyone who loved him."
"I know," Luna whispered. "I know."
"Then why are you here?"
She didn't have an answer.
The Old Man faded. She was alone again.
She stood there, shaking, tears on her face. She wanted to run. She wanted to turn back. She wanted to pretend she never saw any of this.
But then she heard another voice. Softer. Warmer.
"Keep going."
She didn't know who said it. Maybe John. Maybe the Old Man. Maybe herself.
She pulled her bag tighter. She took a breath. She walked forward.
The hotel doors opened. She stepped inside.
The lobby was empty. Silent. Dust on the floor. A single light flickering overhead.
Somewhere upstairs, she heard a door open. Footsteps. A voice.
She walked toward the stairs.
She was ready.
Whatever was waiting for her up there, she would face it.
For John. For the Old Man. For everyone the Architect had taken.
No one escapes justice
Part 3: the confrontation
Luna walked with tears on her face.
Tears of confusion. Tears of pressure. Tears of fear.
She didn't know what was real anymore. John's voice. The Old Man's words. The way they had looked at her—not with love, but with accusation. She couldn't tell if they were ghosts or if her own mind was breaking. Maybe both. Maybe it didn't matter.
The hotel lobby was empty. A man sat behind the reception desk, tired eyes, bored expression. He didn't look up.
"Is there any room occupied with the name of Noah?" she asked.
He glanced at her. "Are you a visitor?"
"Yes. Tell me the room number."
He checked the list. His finger traced down the page. Then he frowned. "There's no one here by that name."
Luna's heart stopped. She blinked. "What?"
"No Noah. Sorry."
She stepped back. Her mind spun. This was the hotel. The Old Man had tracked him here. He had been in room 16. She was sure of it. What was she supposed to do now?
Then her phone buzzed.
She pulled it out. A message from Noah.
"I am under an alias of Jonathan in the hotel. My room number is 16."
She stared at the screen. Her hands trembled. He knew she was here. He had been watching. He was always watching.
She looked up at the receptionist. "Is there a Jonathan in room number 16?"
The receptionist checked again. This time, he nodded. "Yeah. Jonathan. Room 16."
He handed her a visitor pass. She took it without a word.
---
She walked toward the stairs. Her legs felt heavy. Her chest felt tight. The visitor pass was a small piece of plastic, but it felt like a stone in her hand.
Room 16.
She knew what was waiting for her. She knew what she would find. But she kept walking.
For John. For the Old Man. For everyone the Architect had taken.
She reached the second floor. The corridor was long, dark, silent. The only light came from a flickering bulb at the far end. It buzzed, a low, constant hum, like a dying insect.
Room 16 was at the end of the hall.
She stood outside the door. Her hand hovered over the handle. She could hear breathing inside. Slow. Steady. Waiting.
She thought of John's voice: No one escapes justice.
She thought of the Old Man's voice: What remains of Noah is just flesh.
She opened the door.
---
The first sliver of light fell into the dark room.
And then she heard it. Noah's voice. Singing. Crying.
"Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing
He bled and died to take away my sin"
Luna froze. The hymn was a funeral song. The kind they sang at burials. The kind they had sung at John's funeral.
Her hand found the light switch. She flicked it on.
Noah was sitting on the floor. The Old Man's body was in his arms. Blood on his hands. Tears on his face.
He looked up at her.
"Luna."
"Noah."
Her voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes were fixed on the body. On the blood. On the impossible scene before her.
"What happened to father-in-law?" she asked. "How is he dead?"
Noah's voice was soft. Broken. "He was attacking me for no reason. So I had to give him judgment."
The words didn't make sense. They were the words of a man who had lost his mind.
"Are you fucking insane?" Luna screamed. "Who kills his father? You're a dumbass waste of life."
"It was my fault," Noah said.
"Secondly," Luna's voice shook with rage, "the night John died—you were with the Architect. And he killed our child. Are you conspiring against us?"
"No, Luna, you don't understand—"
"The fuck do you mean? You are fucking friends with the one who killed our child. Are you a dickhead or what?"
She turned away. Tears burned her eyes. "I'm fucking going. Handle yourself on your own."
"Wait."
His voice stopped her. Not because she wanted it to. Because her body refused to move.
"This cruel world can kill you," Noah said. "I'm the one who is protecting you from the cruelty. A single lion alone does not walk into the crime scene. It enters with a group. Same with us. We can be safe if we group together. Alone? One of us is dead." He paused. "See the scars on me. It was a result of me being alone. It can happen to you too."
Luna stopped. Her shoulders shook. Then she let out a sob. Loud. Ugly. Raw.
Noah stood. He walked to her. His hand touched her shoulder.
"You're the strongest woman I have seen. You treated the case like a legitimate one. An ordinary woman would go into depression or anxiety of being alone. You're the strongest one."
He crouched beside her. His thumb wiped her tears. His voice was soft.
"I gotta admit. I was friends with that guy. But since he killed my son, I blocked all of his contacts. Stopped talking to him. But that dickhead is dead. Our case is solved."
Luna's tears stopped. She looked at him. Her eyes were red. Her face was wet. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him.
"You've trusted me for twenty years," Noah said. "We're both forty-five. And you still supported me."
"What about mother-in-law?" Luna asked.
Noah's face didn't change. "I honestly don't know about her. Let's meet her together."
"Ok," Luna said.
Noah stepped back. His eyes were calm. "If you still do not believe me, the gate is open. You can go. Or stay with me. I will protect you. The bounty by the Collins motherfucker still holds."
Two choices flashed in Luna's mind.
Go. Be free from him.
Or stay. Be safe with him.
She looked at the door. Then at Noah. Then at the body on the floor.
Her son's voice echoed in her head. No one escapes justice.
She didn't know if that was a warning or a promise.
"I… I will stay with you," she said.
Noah nodded. His face was serious. Grateful. Loving.
"Hold your tears," he said.
He gestured toward the door.
And behind her back, as she turned, he smirked.
---
Chapter 41 Ends
To Be Continued...