She’s behind me, curled on the ground, her face streaked with tears, arms still bound. But her eyes, they cut through the haze. Theyseeme.
“Please,” she says, breathless. “Don’t. He's had enough.”
The fury doesn’t fade. It claws at my insides. Demands blood.
But I look at her. I see the trust she still has in me, despite everything. Her lips tremble. Her shoulders shake.
She’s already seen enough horror for one lifetime.
Slowly, painfully, I lower the gun.
But I lean in, whispering inches from Viktor’s ruined face.
“You live becausesheasked. But if I see you again, if you breathe in my city, I’ll rip you apart one finger at a time.”
He nods. He’s too afraid not to.
“Alberto!” I shout, voice hoarse.
The side door bursts open. Boots hammer across the floor. Alberto enters, gun drawn, eyes scanning the chaos.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“Take him,” I order. “Dump him on the feds’ doorstep. Alive. Let them deal with what’s left.”
Alberto raises an eyebrow. “Feds?”
I don’t look away from Erin. “She doesn’t need blood on her hands.”
He nods once. “Understood.”
Alberto hauls Viktor out, his body limp, trailing blood.
And finally, finally—I go to her.
She’s still on the floor, barely upright, wrists red and raw. Her eyes lift to meet mine, and what I see there guts me worse than any wound ever could.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Butrelief.
And something deeper.
Something like love.
I drop to my knees. Cut the rope. Wrap her in my arms and pull her against my chest.
“I’ve got you now,” I whisper. My voice cracks.
And I swear to God, I’ll never let her go.
Not while I’m breathing.
13
ERIN
