SSS found him on a Tuesday. Twenty officers. Full tactical. Overwhelming force for one unarmed, dying drug dealer. Nico didn't run. Didn't fight. Just stood up from the table where he'd been planning with Maya and Lin. Raised his hands. 'I surrender. Peacefully. No one else needs to get hurt.' The officer in charge—not Wright, notably—read the charges. Long list. Criminal conspiracy. Theft. Incitement. Forty-seven counts of negligent homicide. 'You understand these charges?' 'I understand I'm guilty. Of most of them. Maybe all of them. Let's go.' They cuffed him. Led him out. A crowd had gathered. Hundreds of people. Silent. Watching. No violence. No riot. Just witnesses. Nico looked at them. His people. Not his anymore. Theirs. 'Keep organizing,' he said. 'Keep building. Don't need me. Never did.' A woman in the crowd—Ana Rodriguez—nodded. 'We know. But thank you anyway.' They took him away. To trial. To prison. To death. But the movement stayed. Strong. Growing. Organized. Mission accomplished.