𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆 𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 ━ 𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 9

A strained voice calls out from the dust still settling around them. Verena and Logan pull apart from their embrace, their eyes locking on the figure lying a few yards ahead. Her features come into focus through the haze, and Verena's heart drops.

"Kayla!" Verena yells.

They both sprint toward her. Kayla's gripping her stomach, blood smeared across her sweater, her soft grunts of pain barely audible as they kneel beside her. Verena quickly assesses her injuries, her gaze landing on the deep gash across Kayla's abdomen.

Kayla's trembling hand reaches up to touch Verena's face, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad he's finally yours," she whispers.

Verena returns the smile, though her eyes are filled with worry. "Don't worry about that, Kay. We're gonna get you out of here, alright?"

With careful precision, Verena and Logan lift Kayla, cradling her in Logan's arms as they try not to worsen the wound. "It's okay, I got you," Logan says as he carries her, Verena walking next to him.

They're so close to their escape. Freedom is within their grasp when a gunshot rings out, tearing through the air. Verena lets out a sharp yell as the bullet pierces her back, and she collapses to her knees.

"Vee!" Logan shouts, panic edging his voice, but he's still cradling Kayla in his arms, trying to shield her from the chaos.

Before he can react further, another shot hits Logan in the back, and he stumbles with a pained grunt. He carefully lowers Kayla to the ground, making sure not to hurt her any further.

Then another shot—this time hitting Verena again. She grunts, doubling over, the pain unbearable.

In that moment, years of rage and hatred—toward Stryker, toward the torment they've endured—boil over. With two furious roars, Logan and Verena unleash their claws, their eyes blazing with anger.

They charge at Stryker, bloodied but determined. Stryker fires another shot at Logan, causing him to falter briefly, but Logan pushes through, fueled by pure fury. He scrambles up the debris, determined to come at Stryker from above, while Verena barrels toward him head-on.

As Verena closes in, Stryker levels his gun and fires. The bullet—a gleaming adamantium round—slams into her head. She feels the world spin as it lodges deep in her skull.

Her vision fades just in time to see Stryker fire once more. The bullet strikes Logan square in the head, and with one last look at each other, they both fall.

Everything goes black the moment the bullet hits. For a long stretch, there's nothing—no pain, no thoughts, just emptiness.

Then it begins.

A rush of memories floods her mind like a tidal wave, overwhelming her senses. They crash into her all at once, too fast to process. She's drowning in them—her mother's lullaby, soft and sweet, echoing in the distance. "La mia farfalla," her mother whispers, and Verena sees herself as a little girl, spinning in the garden of their Italian home, arms outstretched, the sun warming her skin. She feels a pang of longing so intense that it hurts—an ache deep in her chest that tugs her back to that memory of innocence, of simpler days. "Mamma?" She whispers, holding her arms out to touch her

But before she can grasp it, the memory splinters away, replaced by another. The sharp scent of gunpowder fills her nose, the heat of battle pressing down on her. She's pulling a bayonet from a fallen soldier, her breath heavy, her heart pounding. Logan's beside her, blood splattered across his face, eyes blazing with that same fierce intensity she's always known. She wants to reach for him, to find solace in his presence, but it slips away before she can hold on, replaced by something darker.