𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐒 | [𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙]

⇢ 𝟐𝟒 ˗ˏˋ 𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ࿐ྂ

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Layla wasn't sure where she got the strength to hold back the chilling scream threatening to leave her lips after the scene in front of her took place. Her anger was nearly blinding her, but she knew she had to be smart in order to not share the same fate as them.

Harrow and his men didn't waste a single moment after the bodies of Marc Spector and (Y/N) Mahfouz collapsed in the ground. Harrow strutted with his cane in one hand over to where his followers had dragged their bodies to like it was just another casual day at work, watching how they searched through their pockets for the ushabti.

When one pulled their hands away holding the object in his hands, the others stared at it like it was the most precious diamond in the planet. Harrow extended his hand forward for it, and cradled it with his hands.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, whoever else might be in there, and (Y/N) Mahfouz," Harrow whispered. "Sometimes we need the cold light of death before we can see reality."

Layla hid behind one of the pillars and had to hold her breath after she heard the soft footsteps of one of Harrow's men searching in the area. Without thinking too much of it, she elbowed the man hard enough once he got into her sight and only saw how Harrow just turned his head to the side at the sound of the grunt before turning back.

Layla made sure to drop the unconscious body of the man as quiet as she could, moving through the shadows of the room in order to not get caught. Her glare was as cold as ice, staring at how Harrow walked to stand in front of his people and lift Ammit's ushabti in his hand.

"Who wants to heal the world?" Harrow asked out loud to his kneeling followers, his other hand gripping the cane.

Suddenly, a purple light emitted from the eyes of the crocodile head of the cane and shifted into some sort of axe. Harrow, satisfied and with no regrets, marched towards the exit of the room with the people trailing behind him.

Layla made sure everyone was already far gone before stepping away from her hiding spot, carefully walking towards the bodies of her friends on the floor.

"(Y/N), Marc," she tried to call out, wishing, grasping for any sort of hope that they might still be alive.

When she realized there was no point, Layla could not hide her tears anymore but was forced to muffle her sob in case they ever returned. She shut her eyes tightly because what she was seeing was too much for her to take, it was the last thing she wanted, and now it came true.

Layla sniffled at the sight of the bullet holes in (Y/N)'s chest, as well as how her lips were parted with the ghost of her final breath. Layla didn't think twice before lowering down and hugging her cold, lifeless body one last time, her tears staining the linen of your bloodied shirt.