The life of an Indefinite Playerr

Chapter 36.

Amanda's pov.

The city was too loud, too bright, and yet I felt completely alone. My phone had died hours ago. I kept walking not knowing where to go. I had no idea where James was, where Rashin disappeared to, or what had happened back at that godforsaken house. Cutting off the power source should have been an easy job, shouldn't it?

The gun in my hand felt heavier with each passing step. I had shot a man. A security guard. His face kept flashing in my mind. I didn’t even know his name. I went on and stood a bridge, I had lose all evidence. I dumped the gun into the river as well as the jacket I was wearing. I kept walking.

I stumbled into a small convenience store. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me. My hands trembled as I picked up a bottle of water I couldn’t pay for. No cash. No charge. No one to call. I didn’t know anyone’s number by heart.

I stood there frozen when I saw him—uniformed, calm, and sipping coffee by the window, an officer.

I panicked. Tried to slip out. Too late.

He turned. Eyes narrowed. “Amanda, right?”

I froze. “I—I need help.”

He walked over slowly. “Funny. I was just on my way to your house. I need to know what happened to Patrick during the robbery?”

“How...” I  froze "How do you know about that?"

"Patrick was working undercover for us, it was part of a deal to release him and then he would help us take down Mr Kedron. Now he's comms are off, we want to know where he is?"

My face changed. “Patrick?” “He’s been working with you, right? To take down Mr K?”

Diego nodded slowly. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. We split up. Rashin ran. I’ve been walking for hours.”

We went to sit in the back of the store. Officer Diego handed me a cup of tea I couldn’t drink. My hands were still trembling, but the room was warm, quiet—too quiet.

Then the TV above us flickered. The volume was low, but something pulled my eyes up.

“—breaking news from West District. Authorities have confirmed a shooting at a private residence involving a prominent lawyer and an unidentified male, presumed to be his son. The lawyer, identified as Richard McHale, was declared dead on the scene. The boy was rushed to Midway General Hospital in critical condition. Sources say he remains unidentified for now…”

The screen flashed an image of the scene. I saw the blood on the floor. The black coat—Mr K in the background, blurred.

My tea dropped from my hand, splashing the floor.

“Patrick,” I whispered.

Diego’s face turned toward me, jaw tightening. “You know who that is?”

I nodded slowly. “That’s him. Patrick... that’s his name.”

He stood instantly, pulling out his radio. “Get a team to Midway now. We may still have a chance.” But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was alive. Barely. Everything was falling apart… but part of me knew this wasn’t the end. "Let us head there!" The officer stood abruptly urging me to follow him.

...

I was escorted through the cold hospital corridors, Diego right beside me. My heart thudded in ny chest like it was trying to tear out of me. Every nurse she passed, every monitor beep, felt like a countdown. We reached the ICU. He was there... pale, hooked to wires, his chest rising in slow, uncertain rhythm. Patrick. My Patrick. The boy who had gone through hell, and still carried a storm in his soul.