No Consequences For The Dying
The tension in the air was thick as Rebecca stepped forward. She clicked her tongue with an air of impatience, "Let's just kick that door down," she suggested, clearly ready to force their way in.
But before she could make a move, Asher silently moved past her, his steps steady and calculated. He reached the door, his hand gripping the handle with ease. With a subtle twist and a sharp pull, the door creaked open effortlessly, revealing the room beyond.
The trio stepped into the room, their eyes immediately widening at the sight before them.
There, sitting at the far side, was Grace—her aged figure illuminated by the white lights above, looking older than usual with an air of despair around her.
In her hand, she held a syringe filled with a radiant green liquid, its soft glow reflecting off her tired face. Her fingers trembled slightly, her expression a mix of determination and regret.