The silence shattered like glass as Finn’s voice tore through the air, raw and ferocious: “GET HER!! SHE SHOT MY WIFE AND MY MOM!!” The sound of his scream wasn’t just rage—it was grief, heartbreak, and fury colliding into something primal. Time didn’t slow, it sped up. Adrenaline kicked in like a drug, and suddenly everyone was moving. Luna, already halfway down the street, bolted like a shadow untethered, weaving between cars and shoving through stunned bystanders. Her coat whipped behind her, fluttering in rhythm with her wild escape. But Finn wasn’t far behind. Powered by anguish and rage, he sprinted with everything he had, his feet pounding the pavement like war drums. Baker was on his heels, barking orders into his radio: “Suspect heading west on Fulton! All units—armed and extremely dangerous!”uit. Lights flashed red and blue in the glass windows of nearby buildings, but none of it registered for Finn. All he could see was Luna. All he could hear was the gunshot. All he could feel was the emptiness left in the wake of two women who had been his entire world. His wife—his partner in life. His mother—the heart of his childhood. And now, they were both gone. Stolen in one brutal instant.

“Don’t let her get away!” Finn shouted again, tears streaming down his face as he pushed himself harder. His chest burned. His legs screamed. But he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was catching Luna. She had looked him in the eye when she pulled the trigger. No hesitation. No mercy. She’d walked away from the carnage like a ghost, cold and detached—leaving behind a house painted in blood and silence.

Baker tried to grab Finn’s arm to slow him down. “Finn! You’re not supposed to be here—this isn’t protocol!” But Finn shrugged him off, eyes locked on Luna’s retreating form. “I don’t care about protocol. She murdered my family!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

Luna darted into a narrow alley, her boots skidding on the slick concrete. Garbage bins crashed over as she tried to block the path. Finn didn’t flinch. He vaulted over them, close enough now to see the frayed ends of her hair, the panic finally beginning to show in her gait. This wasn’t the calm, calculating assassin who had slipped away before. Now she was running scared. And Finn could smell it.

More cops funneled into the alley from the far end. Luna skidded to a stop, looked over her shoulder, then to the right—an emergency fire escape. She leapt for it, pulling herself up fast. The metal creaked under her weight as she climbed. Finn slammed into the bottom rung a second later, climbing like a man possessed. “LUNA!!” he roared, his voice echoing off the brick walls. “FACE ME!!”

She looked down once, her expression unreadable—was it regret? Defiance? It didn’t matter. She kept going, desperate now, trying to reach the roof. But Baker and another officer appeared above, guns drawn. “Don’t move! Hands in the air!” one of them yelled.

Trapped.

Finn made it to the landing, chest heaving. “You’re done,” he growled, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her.

Luna’s hand twitched, reaching toward her side. “Don’t!” Baker warned, his weapon aimed squarely at her. She hesitated.

“What did they ever do to you?” Finn demanded, his voice lower now, but still shaking with rage. “My mom. My wife. They didn’t deserve this.”

Luna opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her hand trembled at her side. She looked small now—cornered, vulnerable, the mask slipping. For a second, Finn didn’t see a monster. He saw a broken person. But that second passed.

“You don’t get to explain,” Finn said, his tone cold. “Not now. Not after what you did.”

Baker moved in, snapping handcuffs over her wrists while another officer read her rights. Luna didn’t resist. She just stared at Finn with tired eyes, as if she’d already lost everything long before today.

As they led her away, Finn collapsed against the wall, sliding to the ground. The weight of it all crashed into him—grief, rage, the sickening finality of it. Luna had been caught. But nothing could bring his family back.

Sirens still howled. Radios crackled. Officers talked around him. But Finn didn’t hear them. He stared up at the sky, blinking through tears. “I got her,” he whispered. “But it still hurts. God, it still hurts.”

Baker stood beside him quietly. “You did good,” he said gently. “You ran toward the storm when most would’ve run from it.”

Finn didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.

Justice had been served. But the scars would never fade.