Chapter 17: Liam’s End and Helena’s Desperation (2)
The scan bar emitted a soft chime.
A gentle green glow pulsed once... then shifted to orange... then deepened to an ominous red.
The lead officer’s expression didn’t change, but he nodded grimly. "Positive. Multiple Class-D residues confirmed. Psychotropic compounds consistent with long-term low-dose exposure."
Helena’s hand flew to her mouth, a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob escaping through her fingers.
Liam stared at the device, his drug-fogged brain struggling to process what he was seeing. "That can’t be right. It’s... someone tampered with it! This is bullshit!"
The officer ignored his outburst, tapping his tablet. A soft chime indicated the warrant processing through immediately. Pre-approved. Time-stamped. The arrest protocol activating with bureaucratic inevitability.
Two officers moved toward him with practiced efficiency.
Helena’s scream stopped them mid-step.
"No! He’s not a criminal! He’s sick! He didn’t know what he was doing!"
Liam didn’t resist as they took his arms. He couldn’t. The reality was crashing over him in waves: the systematic drugging, the planted evidence, the carefully orchestrated downfall. He stood there swaying, a puppet with cut strings.
That’s when Vincent stepped forward.
He moved slowly, deliberately, placing a steadying hand on Helena’s shoulder as her knees threatened to buckle.