Chapter 21 – The Message

The door slid shut behind Max with a soft hiss.

No one spoke.

The room they’d been given was technically generous – spacious, reinforced, soul-insulated but it now felt like a holding cell with furniture. Clean surfaces. No sharp corners. Monitors built into the walls, all black… but not off.

Alyssa peeled off her jacket and tossed it across the couch with more force than necessary. Dan moved to the sink, ran water, and stood over it, breathing hard. Chloe sat beside Liz’s mobile containment pod, her fingers hovering near the monitor, eyes locked on the soft green pulse of her heartbeat.

Victor didn’t sit. He stood by the far wall, one clawed hand gripping the edge of a storage locker. Shoulders hunched. Bare chested. The blood on his side had mostly dried. He hadn’t asked for healing.

Max remained by the door, his back to the room for a moment longer.

His shoulders rolled, flame flexing just under the surface of his skin. Controlled. Dormant. Barely.

He finally turned.

“She’s stable,” Chloe said softly, eyes still on the pod. “Vitals flatlined for a second during the fight… then surged. But she’s okay. I think.”

No one answered.

Max walked to the centre of the room and sat on the edge of the long steel table, arms folded, head bowed slightly. The soulfire buzz in his bones hadn’t faded since the dome. He still felt Kane’s presence like a ghost behind his ribs, like something watching from just outside the edge of his perception.

Dan exhaled, finally turning. “I healed who I could. But the damage wasn’t physical.”

“You mean Liz?” Max asked, not looking up.

Dan shook his head. “I mean you.”

Max didn’t answer.

Alyssa kicked the base of a chair. “We’re supposed to be guests, huh? What kind of hospitality comes with invisible stalkers and surprise assassination drills?”

“They weren’t going to kill us,” Dan muttered.

Alyssa scoffed. “Oh yeah? That brick-wall Omega guy was just gonna hug Victor to sleep?”

Victor didn’t move. But his claws clicked once. Then retracted.

Chloe finally looked up. “Max… you knew Grimm was watching us. But not like that. Right?”

Max lifted his gaze. His eyes were dry. Distant. “I expected eyes. Not knives.”

Victor snorted. “He doesn’t see people. He sees pieces.”

Dan ran a hand through his hair. “He said we were valuable. That we were unpredictable.”

“Which is code for: controllable until we’re not,” Alyssa muttered. “We’re just leverage to him.”

Max stood again. Slowly.

He walked to the window – sealed, false, displaying a neutral sky simulation. His reflection shimmered in the glass. Flame licked his fingertips before dying again.

“We survived Singapore,” he said. “We fought demons in the streets. We kept Liz alive. But here? In this place? We’re back in a cage. Just prettier walls.”

Victor looked at him for the first time since they entered the room.

“Then maybe it’s time we left.”

Max didn’t reply.

Not yet.

Because part of him agreed.

But the other part – the one bound by blood and fire to the girl in the pod – wasn’t ready to let go of the only place keeping her heart beating.

…………………

Victor had stayed silent long enough.

His shoulder throbbed where Omega had hit him – a soul-punch, not just a physical one. Deep bruising along the aura, like psychic frostbite. He could heal. Eventually. Max had taught him that much.

But this place wouldn’t.

This place only ate people slow.

He stepped away from the wall, finally drawing the attention of the others. Max turned halfway. Dan looked up from his seat. Chloe flinched. Alyssa kept her arms crossed, her scowl sharpening.

Victor’s voice was low, but iron-hard.

“We should leave.”

Max didn’t respond.

Victor took a step closer, eyes locked.

“Tonight. We pack what we need and walk. No one’s going to stop us.”

Dan frowned. “You think Grimm doesn’t have the whole place rigged with lockdowns? You want to start another fight in the middle of his fortress?”

“I’ll tear through it if I have to.”

Victor’s tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

“Every second we stay, we’re more useful to him. You heard what he called us. Instruments. Wildcards. Leverage. That’s what we are here. To him. To Alpha. To that invisible freak Kane.”

Alyssa opened her mouth, but Victor held up a hand.

“No. Let me finish.”

He turned to Max fully now, voice tightening.

“You think you’re in control. But you’re not. Grimm lets you move because you’re useful. He gives you access because he wants to see what you do. Not because he respects you. Not because he trusts you.”

Max stared back, unreadable.

Victor kept going.

“You’re still playing his game. And when you burn too hot or care too loud – he’ll snuff you out. And Liz? She’ll stay right here. In that box. Just another test case.”

Silence fell.

Then Max finally spoke.

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

Victor blinked.

Max stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the light under his skin dimming to coal-glow heat.

“I know Grimm’s watching. I know he’s calculating the day I’m not worth the trouble anymore. But this—” Max gestured to Liz’s pod, to Chloe, to Dan. “—this is the only ground I have right now. And I won’t abandon it.”

Victor folded his arms. “Then we rot here.”

Max didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

The line had been drawn, even if no one wanted to admit it.

And then Chloe’s voice broke the silence, soft but clear.

“Maybe not all of us have to go.”

…………………

Chloe hadn’t meant to speak. Not yet. Not while the room was burning in words.

But something about the way Max and Victor stared at each other – two storms pretending to be still – made her lungs move before her brain could stop them.

“Maybe not all of us have to go.”

Victor looked at her, eyebrows raised but not mocking. Just tired.

Max didn’t turn right away, but Dan did. Alyssa exhaled sharply beside her.

Chloe stood up, slowly, hands still gripping the vitals tablet like it was a life raft.

She looked at Max.

Then at Liz.

Then back.

“You’ve been fighting since the moment this started. All of you. Running, bleeding, burning your way through everything just to keep her alive.”

She swallowed.

“But she’s not just your daughter. She’s… she’s my best friend.”

Her voice caught, but she pushed through.

“And if this is the only place in the world that can keep her breathing, even while that thing is inside her, then I don’t want to run away from it. Not yet.”

Max’s face didn’t change. But the fire in his hands had gone out.

Alyssa stepped forward beside her. No more chewing gum. No more crossed arms. Just her voice – clear, dry, and surprisingly level.

“And our parents are here now.”

That made everyone pause.

Max blinked. “What?”

Chloe nodded. “Grimm relocated them last week. After… after Jack.”

Her voice caught again, but Alyssa continued without faltering.

“He brought them here. Said it was protection. For us. For them. I didn’t like it at first. Still don’t. But they’re safer here than out there.”

She turned to Victor now.

“You think it’s a prison. Maybe it is. But outside? There are worse things than walls. At least in here, those worse things knock before they eat you.”

Victor grunted. Not quite disagreement. Not quite acceptance.

Dan finally spoke, his voice low but grounded.

“If they stay… I stay. Someone has to keep them alive. Someone who can heal, who can fight if it comes to it.”

He looked at Max.

Then at Victor.

“You two go. Do what you have to. But not everyone needs to run toward the fire to do something important.”

A long silence.

Chloe looked down at the monitor in her hands. Liz’s pulse still pulsed soft and steady. Stable. But not silent.

“I want to be here when she wakes up,” she whispered.

Alyssa looked over at Max.

“So yeah. You and furball go do the hero thing. Just… don’t die. Okay?”

Victor looked away first.

Max didn’t smile. But something in his eyes flickered. Not fire. Not grief.

Resolve.

…………………

The room had settled into an uneasy stillness.

Victor returned to sharpening his blade. Chloe whispered something soft to Liz's pod. Alyssa curled up on the floor nearby, hugging her knees. The air was still, but the silence wasn't peaceful – it was compressed. Like the eye of a storm.

Max sat alone on the edge of his bed, staring down at his hands. They weren’t burning. Not yet.

Dan crossed the room and sat beside him without a word. He didn’t speak for a while. Just sat, elbows on knees, eyes forward. The light from the vitals monitor painted faint green streaks across the floor.

Then, quietly:

“You doing okay?”

Max didn’t answer.

Dan nodded to himself, as if he hadn’t expected one.

“You’re not fireproof, you know. Just pain resistant.”

That pulled the ghost of a smile from Max – barely.

Dan leaned back slightly. “You ever hear that thing… about how firefighters are trained to run into the fire, not away from it?”

Max’s eyes didn’t move. “Yeah. I was one.”

Dan exhaled. “Right.”

Silence again.

Then Max said, “It never leaves you.”

Dan looked over.

Max continued, voice low, rough. “You can put out the blaze. Pull people from it. Save the ones you can. But after that… it’s always there. In your skin. Behind your eyes. The part where you wonder if you should’ve gone back in.”

Dan didn’t interrupt.

“I see fire now and I don’t feel panic anymore. At least not as much. I’m starting to feel… like I’m home. Isn’t that sick?”

Dan shook his head. “It’s not sick. It’s what you had to become.”

Max finally looked at him. “You think I’m still becoming? Or just burning slower?”

Dan studied him. “Honestly? I think you’re both. But I don’t think you’re alone.”

Max looked back down at his hands.

“They keep expecting me to save them.”

“No,” Dan said gently. “They expect you to try. There’s a difference.”

A long pause.

Max ran a hand down his face, weariness catching up to him in slow waves.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Dan.”

Dan nodded. “Good. Means you’re still human.”

Another pause.

“You’re not a god, Max,” Dan added. “You just inherited a piece of something like one. You don’t have to carry everyone. You just have to keep carrying yourself.”

Max let the words settle. Then:

“If I fall, Liz dies.”

Dan’s voice was steady.

“Then don’t fall. And if you do… we’ll catch her.”

Max blinked. Turned his head slightly, brow furrowing. “You?”

Dan smiled faintly. “Me. Alyssa. Chloe. Maybe even Grimm, if the old bastard has any soul left.”

That earned a small exhale of air. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Dan clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder. “We’re not all soldiers. But we’re all here for the same reason.”

“Because we love her.”

Max didn’t say anything else.

But when Dan left him alone again, the fire under Max’s skin didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Not yet.

…………………

The others had gone quiet, retreating to their corners of the room. Dan was asleep upright in a chair. Victor sat by the door, sharpening a blade against his claw, saying nothing. Alyssa and Chloe had curled up near Liz’s pod, whispering too quietly to hear.

Max stood alone by the corner terminal, reviewing Grimm’s open access files for the tenth time – bare bones summaries of demon sightings. Half of it was redacted. The rest was sanitized. Controlled.

He was about to shut it off when the screen blinked.

Incoming message.

Source: Unknown.

Format: Encrypted.

He froze.

A video flickered onto the glass.

Victor’s head turned slightly. “Something wrong?”

Max didn’t answer.

He started the file.

The monitor went black.

And then—

Screaming.

Not the cinematic kind. Not distant or dulled.

Wet, human, full-bodied pain.

The feed resolved into a dark stone room. Chains. Hooks. Blood-streaked walls.

And in the centre – a body.

Torn. Burned. Bound at wrists and ankles. Suspended.

Ethan.

Or what was left of him.

His face was barely recognizable – eye swollen shut, lips torn, skin purpled and cracked. He trembled with every breath.

Max took a step forward. “No…”

The sound cut back in – static, then ragged sobbing.

“M–Max…”

Ethan’s voice was a raw rasp, shredded down to bone and guilt.

Max couldn’t move.

“He’s coming back. He keeps… cutting out pieces and putting them back wrong. Over and over. Says it’s a—art.”

The feed shook – like something huge was pacing nearby.

Ethan looked straight at the camera. No – past it, as if he knew Max was watching.

“Please. Please come. He said he’ll take Dan next. Then—”

The screen lurched.

A new figure stepped into view.

Kimaris.

Tall. Impossibly lean. Black skin like wet obsidian, covered in rune-scars that writhed as he moved. His smile was bone-white. His eyes… wrong. No pupils. Just rings of flickering, colorless fire.

He crouched beside Ethan’s shaking form.

“Hello, Max.”

His voice was serene. Gentle. Almost polite.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How something so weak can still scream so beautifully.”

Ethan whimpered. Kimaris stroked his ruined face with one clawed finger.

“I’m coming for you. But I’m in no rush. The hunt is half the pleasure.”

Kimaris turned toward the feed, leaned in close.

“You think hiding makes you safe? That you can hold back inevitability?”

He smiled wider.

“You devoured one of us. A Lord. I’ve never tasted a soul like that. I wonder… how many friends I’ll have to carve through before you offer yourself instead.”

And then—

He bit Ethan’s ear off.

Casually. Slowly. Ethan screamed again, in a sound so broken it didn’t even sound human anymore.

The feed cut out.

Max stood perfectly still.

The terminal crackled. Smoke curled from the frame. He hadn’t touched it. But it was burning anyway.

Victor was already standing.

He didn’t ask what Max had seen.

He didn’t need to.

“Where?”

Max didn’t blink.

“Sydney. Home.”

…………………

The sky above the hangar was a simulation, a false dawn painted across a dome of reinforced illusion. But the cold underfoot was real – steel and concrete and ghostlight, pulsing faintly through the floor like a heartbeat the building had forgotten how to stop.

Max stood near the edge of the boarding ramp, one duffel slung over his shoulder, flame sealed tight beneath his skin. Every breath he took tasted like ozone and blood. Like Sydney.

Victor stood beside him, freshly bandaged, knuckles flexing, a long combat coat hanging off his shoulders. He hadn’t said a word since the message.

The others approached, quiet.

Dan was first. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but his eyes were steady.

“You don’t need to say it,” Dan said. “We’ve already decided.”

Max turned to face him. “You’re sure?”

Dan nodded. “Alyssa and Chloe are safer here. The Institute might be a cage, but it’s still reinforced.”

His voice dipped quieter.

“And if Liz wakes up… someone needs to be here.”

Max looked past him. Chloe was hugging Liz’s pod, her hand against the glass, whispering something he couldn’t hear. Alyssa stood a few feet back, arms crossed again, eyes red but dry.

Max approached them slowly.

Chloe turned first, lifting her chin. “You’ll bring him back?”

Max hesitated. Then: “If I can.”

Alyssa looked at him hard. “And if you can’t?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled something from his coat – an Institute communicator shaped like a smooth black stone, warm to the touch. He handed it to Chloe.

“I’ll check in every day. If Liz’s condition changes… or if anyone comes for you, you call. Immediately.”

Alyssa snatched it first, holding it tightly.

Max looked at them both. “You’re not just staying here for her. You’re training. You hear me?”

Chloe gave a quiet nod. “We will.”

Max stepped back. Then turned to Dan.

The healer gripped his shoulder. Firm. “Bring him home. If there’s anything left.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “There better be.”

The engines of the transport hummed louder now. Heat vented from the undercarriage. The doors began to rise.

Victor stepped up the ramp first.

Max followed but before the doors fully closed, he turned back for one last look.

Chloe. Alyssa. Dan.

Liz, still asleep in her pod.

Grimm’s Institute behind them, sealed like a tomb.

The future ahead, burning like open sky.

“Let them come,” Max said under his breath. “Let them try.”

The hatch slammed shut.

And the plane lifted into the dark.