Inside the sealed warehouse, death ticked away in stereo.
My son and the golden retriever belonging to Claire Travis—my husband's "one that got away"—were strapped to separate time bombs.
My husband, Leon Weiss, the city's chief bomb disposal expert, could only save one.
I clawed at his arm, nails digging into the fabric of his uniform. "Save David! He's your own flesh and blood!"
Leon's gaze flickered. For a fraction of a second, conflict warred behind his eyes.
Claire Travis wept, shaking her head as she looked at him. "Leon, A-Jin is the only thing my father left me... but you should save David..."
Leon slammed his fist against the wall. His eyes squeezed shut. A heavy breath escaped him.
"I'll choose based on proximity."
The blood drained from my face.
Claire's dog was three steps away.
My son was five meters deep in the shadows.
Leon didn't hesitate. He lunged toward the dog, fingers already working the decoder before his knees hit the ground.
"Leon!"
I screamed, charging at him, fueled by pure adrenaline. Without looking up, he backhanded me. The force sent me crashing to the concrete.
Helpless, I watched the red light on the dog's vest extinguish.
Across the room, the countdown on my son's chest leaped to the final ten seconds.
——
"No—!"
Ignoring the agony radiating through my body, I scrambled up and sprinted toward my son.
Two steps. That's all I managed.
Strong arms tackled me from behind, slamming me onto cold cement.
"Stay back!" Leon's voice was a vicious growl against my ear. His grip was iron. "It's too late to disarm. If you go over there, you'll trigger the mechanism early!"
"Do you want to kill us all?"
Not far away, my seven-year-old son sat tied to a chair, alone in the dark. His small chest heaved with sobs.
"Dad, save me! Dad!"
Each cry was a serrated blade twisting in my heart.
I wrenched myself free, blinding panic overriding all logic.
I ran.
But I was too slow. The timer hit zero.
*Boom.*
Sparks erupted. A massive shockwave lifted me off my feet and threw me backward. The world dissolved into choking smoke and ringing silence.
As the gray haze slowly drifted apart, the scene before me shattered my soul.
Leon was crouched on the ground. Those hands—hands that refused to touch mundane chores, hands insured for millions to disarm explosives—were tightly covering the golden retriever's ears.
Claire was tucked safely in his embrace, her shoulders trembling delicately.
And my son...
My son was buried under a pile of rubble. His fate unknown.
I lay on the freezing ground. The high-pitched ringing in my ears drowned out the world. I didn't know if, in that final second, my son had called out for me.
"David... David..."
I stumbled into the ruins. My fingertips shredded against jagged concrete, turning bloody, yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the evisceration of my heart.
Under a twisted steel beam, I found him.
His small body was coated in gray dust. His chest was a mess of blood, his breathing ragged and shallow. But when his eyes found mine, he let out a faint, weak whimper.
Air rushed back into my lungs. I gathered him into my arms, tears blurring my vision.
Leon stood nearby. He didn't even bend down. A cursory glance, and then—
"He's fine. He can still be saved."
His tone was indifferent. Clinical.
A tremor of pure rage rolled through me. "Leon Weiss, how can you be so cold-blooded?"
"He is your biological son! Does he mean less to you than one of Claire's dogs?"
Leon frowned, impatience dripping from every syllable. "I told you, I chose by proximity. That was a professional judgment to maximize the success rate."
A pause. Then, quieter:
"Besides, if he hadn't been running around, how would the criminal have strapped a bomb to him in the first place?"
My heart seized.
Our son had been blown up. He was bleeding in my arms.
And his father showed zero concern—only blame.
