The screams were deafening.The flames, once small embers licking at the edges of the brothel, had transformed into an inferno. The wooden walls groaned, splintering beneath the heat, the ornate furniture blackened and charred. Smoke coiled through the halls, thick and suffocating, drowning out the scent of blood.
Vincent and Katherine had already found each other, weaving through the chaos in a desperate bid to escape. His grip on her wrist was tight as they moved through the crumbling building, dodging falling beams and stepping over the bodies that littered the floor—some still twitching, others forever still. The once-gilded brothel was now nothing more than a burning tomb.
Then—the gunshot rang out.
The sharp crack split through the roar of the fire. Vincent's instincts kicked in, and he immediately spun toward the source.
Madame Dupont stood across the room, pistol raised, her face twisted in a mixture of fury and madness. Her elegant gown was in tatters, her once-refined appearance reduced to soot-streaked ruin. The firelight cast flickering shadows across her features, making her look almost inhuman.
Vincent moved to take a shot, but before he could pull the trigger, a massive burning pillar above them groaned, the weakened ceiling giving way. With a deafening crack, the pillar came crashing down—right onto Dupont.
She had only a split second to register what was happening. Her expression twisted in horror as she looked up, her mouth parting as she let out a final, panicked curse.
"Putain de merde."
Then, the flaming wreckage engulfed her.
Vincent barely spared her another glance. He turned back to Katherine, prepared to urge her forward—but then he saw the way she staggered, her body swaying. His eyes flicked downward.
Blood.
It seeped through the fabric of her dress, dark and endless, pooling from a wound he hadn't seen before. His breath caught in his throat as horror gripped him.
"Katherine," he rasped, catching her before she could collapse.
His arms wrapped around her, cradling her against him as he rushed forward, forcing his way through the burning remains of the brothel. The fire clawed at them, the heat unbearable, but nothing mattered except getting her out.
The moment they staggered into the night air, Katherine's weight sagged against him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Vincent sank to his knees, his heart hammering as he gathered her close.
"No, no, no," he whispered, "Please no," he said, his voice breaking, frantic. "You weren't supposed to be here. I had everything under control—I planned everything to make sure you were safe. To get Dupont out of the way for good."
Katherine let out a weak, breathless laugh, her bloodied fingers grasping at his coat. When she spoke, her voice trembled, but her words were broken by the blood gurgling up her throat.
"I only came back… to ask for my freedom." A wet, choking cough wracked her fragile frame, fresh blood spilling from her lips, dark and thick.
"Last night, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said… about the life you promised me." She struggled for breath, her words barely above a whisper, yet they carried the weight of a dream now shattered.
A weak hand pressed against her stomach, trembling. "The life you promised us."
Vincent froze, his world tilting violently. His entire body seized in a paralyzing wave of disbelief. His lips parted, but no words came. His pulse pounded, roaring in his ears, louder than the crackling flames.
"No," he whispered, his voice breaking, his eyes searching hers, desperate for some cruel misunderstanding. "No, no, no."
Katherine swallowed hard, her blood-streaked lips trembling. "Yes, our… our baby." The words were barely spoken before another violent cough tore through her, a fresh gush of blood spilling onto her chin, staining her pale skin crimson.
A raw, agonized sob escaped Vincent as he clutched her tighter. His entire body shook as he rocked her, a man on the edge of a breaking abyss. "No…we, we still have time," he choked out, tears streaming unchecked. "Just hold on. I'll get help. I swear to God. No, God please. Just— hang in there I'll—"
Her cold, trembling fingers reached for his face, barely grazing his cheek.
"I'm sorry, we're both sorry." she whispered, her breath rattling, her voice a mere shadow of what it had once been.
Then, her fingers slipped away.
Her chest rose in one last, fragile breath—then fell still.
Vincent felt the moment she was gone.
The warmth in her body began to fade, her weight becoming heavier, emptier in his arms.
A deafening crack split the air as the remnants of the brothel continued to collapse, sending a rush of embers and splintered wood into the night. The fire was closing in.
But Vincent didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't care.
The flames could take him. Let it all burn.
But then—
Katherine.
She had to be free.
With a strangled breath, Vincent forced himself to his feet, cradling her lifeless body against his chest. The heat clawed at him, the fire licking at his coat, but he kept moving, stumbling through the wreckage, through the ruin.
The fight had ended. And yet, it hadn't.
Vincent sank to his knees, holding Katherine close, rocking her gently.
She was so still. So quiet.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath shaking.
He had promised her freedom.
Promised her a life beyond this city, beyond Dupont, beyond the past.
But that future was gone now, slipping through his fingers like ash.
Above him, the sky was black, the smoke swallowing the stars whole. The fire roared behind him, consuming everything, devouring every trace of the world they had once known.
A raw, guttural sound tore from Vincent's throat—half a scream, half a sob—as he clutched Katherine's lifeless body tighter. The agony surged through him, unbearable, inescapable. His voice rose above the crackling flames, above the distant cries of the dying, merging with the rumble of the heavens.
The sky churned, heavy with the promise of rain, as if the gods themselves mourned with him. His grief was a storm, violent and endless, crashing through his chest with the force of a thousand shattered promises.
And in that moment, he felt it—the weight of loss so vast, so absolute, that it swallowed everything. The fire. The blood. The city. Even himself. All of it drowned in the darkness of her absence. She was gone, and with her, the light. The love. The hope. What remained was a void, a hollow eclipse where his heart had thought to be, but never did.