The mimic was now bleeding ichor from the gunshot wounds, herded Becky into a corner. Fear etched across Becky's face, she pressed herself against the cold brick wall, her eyes tightly shut.
The mimic, with a palpable defiance let out a chilling snarl. "This is far from over, mortals."
With a sudden burst of speed, it pivoted and sprinted away, leaving the officers momentarily stunned. The alley swallowed the mimic's form as it disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind an eerie silence.
Sergeant Miller an older officer immediately came running after hearing the gun shots with his jaw clenched, addressed the bewildered officers. "Secure the area! Call for medical assistance. And someone get that man!"
≠==============
In the chaos that followed, Becky's story poured forth in a torrent of words. She recounted the attack, the horror of seeing Blake trying to murder her.
"It was him," she insisted, her voice trembling with residual terror. "Blake Shelton tried to kill me."
The evidence was damning – the struggle in her apartment, the shattered vase, and the eyewitness accounts of the officers who had seen the mimic as Blake.
Within hours, a warrant was issued for Blake's arrest on charges of attempted murder.
And as the authorities converged on Rose's penthouse, the mimic made her way back to Elena, her form once again shifting to conceal her monstrous visage.
Elena Shelley stood framed in the window of her opulent mansion, her expression one of smug satisfaction as the mimic recounted the night's events.
"So, it didn't go exactly as planned," she mused, her fingers toying idly with a lock of her perfectly coiffed hair. "But the result is the same. Rose is finished, and Blake will hang for the crimes committed by you.. mimic."
The mimic remained impassive, her features frozen in a grotesque parody of humanity.
Rose's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood. "You're making a mistake," she ground out, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "He hasn't even left the bed in days!"
But her protests fell on deaf ears. The officers moved in, their hands rough as they secured the restraints around Blake's wrists and ankles. He stirred briefly, his eyes fluttering open in a haze of confusion and disorientation.
"Rose..." he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "What's happening?"
She held his gaze, her expression a mask of anguish and impotent rage. "It's going to be alright," she lied, the words tasting like ashes on her tongue. "I'll get you out of this, I promise."
Blake's eyes slipped closed once more, and the officers hoisted him onto the waiting gurney. Rose followed, her steps leaden, as they wheeled him out of the penthouse and into the waiting police transport.
Reggie, Randal and Gunther all looked at Rose, awaiting her command but she gave them an eye to stand down and do nothing. There was too much on ground already. If she let her guards loose, there would be a blood bath. And she worried for Blake.
As the doors slammed shut, sealing Blake away from her, Rose's composure finally shattered. A primal scream of fury and anguish tore from her throat, echoing through the empty halls of her once-grand domain.
Immediately, her thoughts drove to only one person that could be responsible.
Elena's victory was all but assured, or so she thought. But Rose was far from finished, her determination burning brighter than ever before.
As the transport carried Blake away, she turned her gaze towards the city that had once been her kingdom. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips, her eyes glinting with a newfound fire.
"You made your move," she murmured, her voice laced with a deadly promise. "Now it's my turn."
The battle lines had been drawn, and Rose was determined to emerge victorious, no matter the cost.
The war was far from over.