The neon glow of the drive-thru menu flickered in the rearview mirror, casting shifting patterns over the dashboard. The rain tapping steadily against the roof of the car.
A faint buzz crackled through the speaker as the drive-thru sign flickered, the screen had been glitching, pixelated text scrambling before resetting.
Rowan drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, idling in line while the scent of fryer grease and over-salted fries drifted through the night air.
Lila, arms crossed tight, exhaled through her nose. "You're seriously getting a burger right now?"
Rowan didn't even glance at her. "Yeah. And fries."
Lila's fingers curled against the hem of her hoodie, jaw clenching. They had spent the entire night running, dodging, barely surviving—and now Rowan was sitting in a fast-food line like it was any other Tuesday night.
"This is a terrible idea," Lila muttered.
"I don't know," Rowan mused, shifting in her seat. "Feels like the best idea I've had all night."
Lila shot her a look. Rowan ignored it, rolling forward as the car in front of them moved up.
Rowan had driven for hours, taking turns at random, doubling back through side streets, cutting through neighborhoods, making sure they weren't being followed. Only when she was convinced they were in the clear did she pull into a deserted parking lot and let out a breath.
Then, without warning, she had announced, "I'm starving."
Lila had argued. She had pushed for them to find Aiden, regroup, figure out what the hell was happening. But Rowan? Rowan had spent an eternity in the otherworld. The most important lesson she learned was that people made the worst decisions when they were starving, exhausted, and running on fumes. And she refused to be one of those people.
So here they were.
The cashier handed Rowan a brown paper bag, grease already staining the bottom. The scent of salt and beef filled the car as she rolled up the window, tossing a fry into her mouth before pulling out of the lot.
Lila sighed, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible."
Rowan grinned around her next bite. "Impossible enough to get you a burger and some mozzarella sticks."
Lila blinked. "You got me what?"
"Don't act like you're not hungry."
Lila huffed, but when Rowan held out the greasy paper bag, she took it.
For a while, the only sound in the car was the radio and food being inhaled at breakneck speeds . The silence between them had too many unspoken thoughts—but neither of them broke it.
The car radio crackled before a weatherman's voice cut through the low hum of static.
"For those of you just tuning in, a Pineapple Express storm system is rolling in from the Pacific, bringing heavy rainfall to the region. Expect at least three days of consistent showers, with highs today reaching 65 degrees and lows dipping to 52. If you're on the roads, stay cautious—flooding in low-lying areas is a possibility."
Rowan smirked. "Three days of rain. Perfect. Guess I'll tell my employees to put out signs—if we even get the chance."
Lila froze mid-bite her cheeks still full of food like a chipmunk.
"Where's my phone?" she asked.
Lila's stomach lurched.
"No." Her voice went flat. "No, no, no—shit."
She turned sharply. "Rowan. Where's your phone?"
Rowan's chewing slowed. Then she muttered, "…Shit."
They had left in such a rush—so focused on getting out alive—that neither of them had thought to grab their phones. Which meant:
No way to call Aiden.
No way to check in.
No way to know if he was even still alive.
"We need to find Aiden," she said.
Rowan tapped the wheel, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
Lila knew that look. The hesitation. The thing Rowan did when she was about to say something Lila wouldn't like.
"I need to close up the arcade first," Rowan admitted.
Lila blinked.
"I need to make sure my employees get home safe," Rowan continued. "It's a 24-hour place, but after everything that's happened tonight… I don't feel right leaving them there. I need to send them home."
Lila exhaled. She got it. She did. But frustration still churned beneath her skin.
"I respect that," Lila said. "But right after, we head to Whittier PD."
Rowan nodded. "Right after."
The tension eased, but the unease didn't.
The city stretched before them, quiet, waiting. The rain thickened, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. The first hints of dawn crept over the horizon, staining the sky in deep, bruised blue.
They neared the arcade.
As Rowan pulled into the arcade lot, headlights slashing through the rain-soaked morning, something shifted in the wreckage nearby.
And that something was waiting, too.
The burnt ruins of Mimi's Café still reeked of charred wood and lingering smoke. Blackened debris sat untouched, the skeletal remains of a restaurant long abandoned.
Inside, Mephisto watched.
He had waited all night.
Curled in the wreckage, his eyes burned crimson, reflecting in the soot-covered glass. His fingers tapped lazily against the ruined tile, nails scraping against scorched remains.
He had spent hours watching through the eyes of his servants—a front-row seat to their delightful chaos. The precinct had been his favorite episode yet.
Aiden.
The infamous Guardian. The myths didn't do him justice.
And now? The other guest stars had arrived.
His red gaze flicked to the approaching car, headlights momentarily illuminating the wreckage before they turned into the arcade parking lot.
Lila.
She was close now.
He could feel it—the pulse of something old, something familiar. The Core's fingerprints had left their mark on her. And no matter how much she fought it, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it, she would never be free.
Not truly.
Nor her unborn child.
Mephisto's grin widened.
He thought of Marisol, curled up in the far corner of the ruined café, still lost in unconscious dreams. Her pulse was steady, untouched. A fragile little seedling waiting to bloom into something greater.
The Doom Tree.
Mephisto rolled the thought over in his mind, contemplating.
Marisol would flourish, in time. She just needed a little push.
Lila, though?
Mephisto didn't know yet whether she was an obstacle or a tool.
But he did know one thing.
Every story needed a conclusion.
And tonight, the director had finally decided how this movie would end.
The pieces were all in place.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the final scene.
Mephisto leaned back against the ruined wall, stretching his arms behind his head.
Soon.
A flicker of red gleamed in his eyes.
A slow, curling smile stretched across his face.
The stage was set.
And the players?
They were exactly where he wanted them.