"Not necessarily," Lo countered. "The tribunal has more options than just execution. There are precedents for... alternative sentences."
The enormity of that statement hung in the air between us. If we succeeded, Luka might not face execution, but what other alternative sentences might the tribunal devise? The Pantheon wasn't known for mercy.
"Tell me what happened," I said, placing my palm against the barrier again. "At the penthouse. I need to know everything if we're going to build a case."
Luka hesitated, and I saw the struggle there—the desire to protect me from the worst details warring with the need to share the truth. "I found him waiting for me," he said finally. "He knew I was coming. And he had Ana there... as leverage."
"He confessed, then?" Lo asked sharply. "To taking her, to manipulating her memories?"
"Yes," Luka confirmed. "He admitted everything. How he found us both after the soldiers killed our parents. How he deliberately separated us. How he kept her as... insurance. In case I ever broke conditioning."
My stomach turned at the calculated cruelty of it. "And you have a witness to these confessions? Ana heard them?"
"Yes," Luka nodded. "She heard everything. That's when she started to remember. When she heard him admit what he'd done, decades of false memories started crumbling like sand castles at high tide."
"That's crucial testimony," I said. "If we can establish that Prometheus violated fundamental Pantheon protocols regarding asset treatment, family separation, and memory manipulation..."
"It strengthens our case for justified killing," Lo finished. "Self-defense and defense of others. Add to that evidence that Prometheus was eliminating other directors on Zeus's orders, and we might actually have a chance."
A warning tone sliced through the air, high-pitched and grating, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. My stomach dropped as if I'd missed a step in the dark. Our time had evaporated like water on hot metal.
"Vincent," Luka said urgently, moving closer to the transparent barrier. "Whatever happens at the tribunal—"
"Don't," I interrupted, placing my palm against the barrier. "Don't say goodbye."
He placed his hand opposite mine again. "I wasn't going to. I was going to say thank you. For seeing me. The real me. For making me believe I could be more than what they made me."
"You already were," I told him, my voice thick with emotion. "You always have been."
The guard approached from behind us. "Time's up."
"I'll see you at the tribunal," I promised. "We'll fix this."
Luka nodded, but his expression remained guarded. He didn't quite dare to hope. As the guard began to escort us back down the corridor, he shouted after us.
"Lo!"
Lo turned back.
"Take care of him," Luka said.
"With my life," Lo promised. "See you soon, killer."
As we rode the elevator back to the upper levels, hollowness and determination battled inside me. Seeing Luka in that cell, injured but unbroken, had solidified something in me. Whatever it took, whatever I had to do, I would not let the Pantheon take him from me.
"We need a plan," I said as the elevator ascended. "For the tribunal."
Lo nodded. "I’ll get into contact with Diego, who can get a message to Jasper. See what evidence he’s willing to give us." He studied me carefully. "You understand what we're doing, right? We're not just trying to save Luka's life. We're trying to convince the tribunal that killing Prometheus was justified."
"I know," I said quietly. "Even if we succeed, he won't be free of this world."
"Does that bother you?" Lo asked, surprisingly gentle. "Knowing that if we succeed, he might still be tied to the Pantheon in some way?"
I considered the question seriously. "What bothers me is that he never had a choice before. He was taken as a child, conditioned, used. Made into a weapon without his consent. But whatever happens after the tribunal, at least this time he'll have some agency in his fate."
"And what about you, doc? If Luka survives this but remains tied to the Pantheon in some way, what does that mean for Dr. Vincent Matthews, respected trauma therapist?"
The question struck deeper than I expected. I hadn't allowed myself to think that far ahead, focusing only on keeping Luka alive. My practice, my patients, my professional reputation… All of it seemed distant and unimportant compared to the immediate crisis.
