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Phil closed the distance between them in a few quick strides. He dropped to his knees in front of Jack, his hand gently finding its way to Jack’s cheek, eyes locked with his.
“Jack,” he whispered, voice raw. “You're alive.”
Tears shimmered at the corners of Phil’s eyes as his thumb traced softly along Jack’s face.
Jack sat frozen on the cold stone floor, wide-eyed and breathless. “Phil…”
A small, bittersweet smile curved Phil’s lips—until the sharp crack of gunfire shattered the moment.
Phil’s body tensed instantly. His head snapped toward the sound, and in a flash, he raised his metal arm, deflecting the bullets the same way he had deflected Jack’s attack earlier.
Without hesitation, Phil’s hands clamped onto Jack’s shoulders, and he rolled them out of the line of fire.
Jack landed hard on his back, stunned. Phil hovered protectively over him, his metal arm raised and ready.
Blinking through the chaos, Jack turned his head. Georg was rising to his feet a few feet away—right where Phil and Jack had been seconds earlier.
Phil’s expression hardened, his gaze cutting through the smoke like steel.
“Jack!” Georg shouted, gun trained on Phil. “What are you doing?! Snap out of it!”
Jack’s eyes darted between them, confusion and realization warring in his expression. “I…”
Phil seized Jack’s wrist and surged to his feet, pulling Jack up with him. Jack stumbled, barely catching his balance as Phil pushed him behind his body like a shield.
“I wondered who’d have the audacity,” Phil growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I should’ve known it was you—again.”
His grip on Jack’s wrist tightened.
Jack winced, trying to twist free. “Phil… it hurts…”
The sound of Jack’s voice cracked through Phil’s fury like a whisper through fog. He glanced back. His eyes softened for a fleeting second, his mouth parting as if to speak—but then they hardened again.
He couldn’t let go. If he did, Jack would run—run back to those so-called friends. No. Jack belonged with him. He wasn’t losing him again.
“Where’s Rhys?” Georg’s voice cut through the tension. Phil turned sharply toward him.
“Let Jack go!” Georg snapped.
Phil’s growl almost slipped free, but before he could respond, the heavy doors burst open. A figure sprinted into the church, weapons drawn—Osma.
He skidded to a stop beside Georg, eyes locking onto the sight of Jack restrained by Phil.
Phil sneered. His metal arm whirred as it raised, aimed squarely at the intruders. He was ready to strike—ready to punish the ones who dared take Jack from him.
Then, movement near the wall caught his eye. The woman—Rhys—unconscious. A better message.
His arm adjusted in an instant, targeting her. Red energy gathered in his palm.
But just as the blast was about to fire, Phil felt a shift.
From the corner of his eye—Jack. Reaching out. Trying to stop him.
Phil’s breath caught.
Jack could get hurt.
His arm jerked away at the last second. His other hand pulled sharply on Jack’s wrist, spinning him around his body.
Jack gasped as Phil drew him flush against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly across him—one arm pinning Jack, the other still charged and ready.
Phil’s breath came hard, ragged, as he looked back up.
Georg and Osma now had their guns trained on him, their eyes locked with his.
Phil’s glare was ice. He didn’t want to do this—not to Jack. But they left him no choice.
Slowly and deliberately, he lifted his metal arm to Jack’s temple. Not to hurt him. Never to hurt him. But they didn’t know that.
Jack choked out his name—just a breath, no sound. But the tone… it was the same cute, confused voice that Phil had fallen in love with all those years ago.
Phil’s heart twisted painfully.
His hand twitched, aching to reach up and brush Jack’s hair, to whisper comfort into his ear. But he didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on the others.
He wouldn’t risk Jack again.
Georg’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Let him go. Now.”
Phil didn’t flinch. His arm remained steady, glowing faintly at Jack’s temple, though his eyes flicked once—just once—to the unconscious woman on the ground.
“Do you have any idea who you’re pointing that at?” Osma hissed to Georg, keeping his weapon leveled.
Georg’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care who he is. He’s taking Jack—”
“Taking?” Phil snapped, his voice slicing through the tension. “You don’t take what’s already yours.”
Jack flinched at the words, lips parting like he wanted to protest—but he didn’t. Not with Phil’s arm wrapped around him so tightly.
Osma’s stance shifted, wary. “Jack doesn’t belong to anyone.”
Phil’s mouth curled into a bitter smile. “You say that like you know him. Like you ever could.”
And then—in a single, fluid motion—he moved.
A bright burst of energy exploded at their feet, a blinding flash that forced Osma and Georg to shield their eyes. The floor cracked, stone and smoke erupting in a deafening roar. By the time their vision cleared, the only thing left was the echo of Phil’s boots pounding through the corridor.
“GO!” Georg barked.
They bolted after him, racing past the shattered stained glass.
Phil tore through the cathedral’s side passage, his grip on Jack firm but not cruel. He weaved through the dark halls like he’d memorized the place.
“Phil—” Jack finally gasped, trying to keep pace. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because they lied to you,” Phil said, not slowing. “They turned you against me. Against us. But I’m going to fix it. You’ll see.”
Jack stumbled, dragging his feet. “Phil, I—this isn’t the way—”
Phil whirled around suddenly, pressing Jack against the wall, panting. His eyes searched Jack’s face with a desperation barely masked by fury.
“You’re here. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” He cupped Jack’s cheek again, thumb trembling now. “And I won’t let them take you away from me. I won't lose you again.”
Footsteps echoed behind them. Osma and Georg gaining.
Phil’s jaw clenched. He pulled a device from his belt and slapped it against the wall. A shimmer of light sparked to life—a camouflaged exit, cloaked by tech.
He spun back to Jack and, without another word, lifted him into his arms.
Jack cried out, struggling. “Phil, please—don’t do this!”
But Phil’s eyes were hard again.
“Hold on to me,” he whispered. “Or close your eyes. Either way… we’re going home.”
And then he vanished through the doorway, the wall sealing silently behind him, leaving nothing but cold silence and dust for Georg and Osma to find.
They skidded to a stop moments later, guns raised—but it was too late. Jack was gone.