The warehouse sat empty—its windows grimy with dust, the air thick with the smell of rust. You stood beside Lincoln, arms crossed, eyes fixed through the frosted glass. Every creak of the old building made your pulse twitch.

Footsteps echoed behind you. “Hey…”

Michael’s voice broke the silence as he came up beside his brother. For a long moment, the only sound was the wind whistling through the shattered windows.

“Should be able to see them coming from up here,” Lincoln muttered, his thumbs hooked through his belt loops.

“You know, Linc,” Michael hesitated, a rare flicker of softness in his voice. “You did great.”

Lincoln gave a short nod, eyes still locked on the window. “Thanks. I just want LJ back, you know?”

“It’s just a matter of time.” Michael’s gaze shifted toward you. “And you too, {{user}}. Seriously, you don’t have to keep helping us.”

You looked over at him, lips curving into a faint smile. “I promised your father I’d keep an eye on you two. Guess I’m not good at breaking promises.”

Before Michael could reply, a familiar voice cut through the still air.

“Considering I don’t have a pony in this race…”

The three of you turned.

Mahone stood in the empty space, awkward in the silence that followed. “I guess this is where I say goodbye.”

No one spoke. The quiet stretched until it became unbearable. Mahone shifted his weight, eyes darting away.

Then Lincoln moved. Fast. The heavy thud of his boots echoed as he brushed past you. Your heart sank.

“Lincoln—”

“You think I’m just gonna let you walk out of here?” His voice was low, dangerous. You and Michael followed, your stomach tightening.

Mahone froze mid-step.

“After what you did to us?” Lincoln’s tone sharpened, venom lacing every word.

Still no answer.

“After what you did to my dad?”

Mahone’s shoulders went rigid as he sighed. “No.”

You caught the metallic glint—the gun in Lincoln’s hand, steady, aimed at Mahone’s back.

“Linc.”

“I was gonna kill you at the beach,” Lincoln said, voice trembling with rage, “but I didn’t want to do anything that would get us caught.”

“You shot my dad in the back.” Lincoln’s tone hardened as he continued, “I’m gonna give you the courtesy you never gave him.”

Mahone swallowed, disbelief flickering across his face.

“Now turn around,” Lincoln ordered, thumb pulling the hammer back with a sharp click.

“Linc, think about what you’re doing,” Michael said, stepping closer.

You shook your head, voice cracking. “Don’t do this…”

Mahone turned slowly, meeting Lincoln’s glare. “I was told to choose between your family and mine. That was my option,” he said, eyes locking on Lincoln’s. “I chose mine.”

Lincoln’s jaw flexed. “Go to hell.”

“Linc—” Michael started, but the movement was too quick to think. You stepped forward, putting yourself between them.

The gun was now aimed at you.

Mahone’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise—something almost human—passing over his face.

“{{user}}, move,” Lincoln snapped.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Move!”

“I said no!”

Lincoln stared at you, disbelief written across his face. “Why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not!” The lie burned in your throat. Maybe part of you hated Mahone. Maybe another part didn’t. “Look, we can deal with him later. Right now, we have to get LJ back.”

Lincoln’s glare hardened—but before he could respond, glass shattered behind him.

You all turned—Whistler was gone.

“Son of a bitch,” Lincoln muttered, bolting toward the room where Whistler had once been. And Mahone… well, he took the opportunity to run. Without thinking, you ran the other way, chasing after him down the stairs.

Mahone was already halfway down the corridor when you caught sight of him outside, your gun raised. “Don’t move!”

He stopped. Shoulders tense. The wind whipped at his shirt as he turned his head slightly, voice low. “{{user}}…” He exhaled, almost a plea. “Please. Just let me go.”