Relief.
“Thank y?—”
I pull the trigger.
His last words stay with me long after the gunshot has echoed. Long after his body slumps to the ground, a fresh hole at the center of his forehead.
Long after the light has gone out.
A scream cuts through my fog. My gaze flicks towards the sound, finding Nikita clutching her knives against Gwen.
Her back comes to rest against mine. “I can’t,” she pants. “I’m too weak, Yulian.”
“No, you’re not.” I yank down her sleeve, baring the scars she gave herself after her sister’s death. “Now, go get her. For Kira.”
And Mom, Dad, Alina.
I never thought I’d entrust my revenge to someone else. Never thought I’d turn it down for mercy.
But mercy is what I needed. It’s what Desya needed, deep down, to let his sins go. It’s the lesson Mia taught me, day after day, every time she chose hope over violence.
I don’t need revenge anymore.
But Nikita does.
I can see the change in her almost instantly. Her back straightens, her shoulders square up. Her grip on her knives tightens.
Then she’s jumping.
Her feet strike the concrete pillar once, twice. She parkours off it, gaining the high ground, letting out a scream as she plunges down on her target.
Gwen doesn’t stand a chance.
She seems to realize it, too, one moment before it happens. That she’s done for. She’s been in the army—she knows what death looks like up close.
Though perhaps notthisup close.
Nikita’s knives slice into her face. Her eyes, specifically—talk about poetic justice. It’s pure, gory carnage, the stuff of B-movies and nightmares.
Then Gwen is gone.
Nikita heaves with the effort. “I… I did it.” Her eyes widen with realization. “I avenged you, Kira.”
I’m at her side in an instant. “You did good, Nik.”
“I did it.” She’s crying now, a mix of happy and sad tears. Mostly, though, it’s exhaustion. “I did it, Yulian. I did it.”
“You did,” I confirm. “Prizrak’s dead. It’s over.”
Her eyes fix on something far away. Then her expression shifts to horror. “No, it’s not,” she whispers.
I follow her gaze to the other end of the parking lot.
Then my heart drops. “No.”
It can’t be. It can’t?—
But it is.
