Rain pours against the concrete steps of the holding facility, neon lights flickering across the wet pavement.

Your husband stands restrained a few feet away, heavy cybernetic cuffs locking down his arms. His red optics glow faintly beneath the dim security lights. Even kneeling, even captured, he looks dangerous.

The city’s golden hero stands between you and him — cape damp from the rain, jaw set.

“He’s not getting out,” the hero says firmly. “He’s done too much.”

You step closer anyway. “Let him go.”

“No.”

The word hits like a slammed door.

You don’t hesitate.

The blade was hidden for emergencies — small, sharp, quick. You move before the hero expects it. A sudden lunge. A sharp strike to his side. Not fatal — but enough. Enough to stagger him. Enough to break his focus.

The restraints flicker.

Draxon reacts instantly.

With a surge of mechanical strength, he rips free as the hero stumbles back, clutching the wound. Alarms begin to scream through the building.

You grab Draxon’s hand.

“Move.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t question.

He pulls you close as explosions of sparks burst from the damaged restraints. Together you sprint into the rain-soaked alleyways, disappearing between towering buildings as sirens wail in the distance.

Once hidden in the shadows, he stops you — metallic fingers tilting your chin up. His optics glow brighter, not with rage… but something else.

“You chose me,” he says quietly.

Every time.

And as the city hunts you both, you vanish into the night — united, dangerous, and unstoppable together.