Footsteps echoed behind me, deliberate.
“I’d rather admire this.”
Arthur turned as Oscar filled my peripheral vision.
He looked like he’d crawled back from the dead, blood-soaked shirt, eyes locked on the man at the table.
Arthur’s face twisted. “What the hell—”
Oscar moved. He tore the gun from Arthur’s hand, shoved him to the ground, elbow pressing into his neck.
Arthur strained, panicked. “You’re ruining everything—”
“Ruining?” Oscar’s voice cracked like a whip. “I threw away everything I had for you. Betrayed the only person who had my back. And for what?” He pressed the gun harder to Arthur’s temple. “So you could put a bullet in me when I was no longer useful?”
Arthur’s lips curled into a snarl, but beneath it flickered uncertainty. Red-faced, barely breathing, Oscar’s hold on him tightened.
Oscar laughed, bitter and hopeless. “Nice try.”
Bones in Arthur’s nose crunched as they met Oscar’s fist.
A second later, his head drooped and his body went limp. Not dead. I knew because it was the same technique we trained our guys to use. Relief washed over me.
Oscar heaved, hands on his knees. “His pocket. For Cora, it’s in his pocket.”
I yanked the folded note from Arthur’s jacket, straightening. Behind me, Oscar was still crouched, sweat dripping, breathing hard. The roof went quiet — just us catching up to the moment.
I looked at him.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I sighed.
Then he lifted those sorry eyes. Barely.
In that tiny glance, like a six-year-old caught with blood on his knuckles, he sighed back.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Throat bobbed.
“I know,” he said.
Two barely-there syllables. But they landed like a confession, a surrender, a plea he wasn’t allowed to make. Not “I’m sorry.” Not “I didn’t mean to.” Not even “please.”
JustI know.
Like a child who realised there was no coming back from the punch he threw.
Something in me, old and loyal and already breaking, went very, very still.
Because he was right.
He knew.
And I did too.
Whatever we’d been before—brothers, partners, family—I felt it fracture clean down the middle. No shouting. No dramatics. Just the quiet snap of something that wouldn’t mend.
I turned away before the rest of me could feel it.
