The word 'complicit' knocks the air from my lungs.
"Every death, every drop of blood, every year of grief. It all traces back to your choice to protect a Volkov over your own blood."
I have no defense. He's right. Every word is truth carved into my bones.
Marco steps back, studying me like he's seeing a stranger wearing his sister's face. When he speaks again, his voice is hollow, final.
"Get out of my house."
"Marco—"
"GET OUT." The roar shakes the windows, sends me stumbling backward. "You're not my sister. My sister died that night along with everyone else. You're just the ghost who's been haunting us ever since."
I turn and walk out without another word, my legs moving mechanically through hallways lined with portraits of the dead. Men I could have saved with a few words of warning. My bodyremembers the path even as my mind fractures. The marble floors where I took my first steps now witness my last ones in this house.
Behind me, I hear glass shatter. A decanter against the wall, the sound of Marco's grief finally exploding in solitude. The sound follows me out, a final goodbye from the brother who pulled me from nightmares, not knowing I was the nightmare all along.
I stop three blocks from the compound, pressing my palm against a cold brick wall to stay upright. The evening air is thick and humid. My phone buzzes. Alexei, probably, finally realizing I'm gone, but I can't answer. Can't tell him I'm the reason Mikhail died trying to stop what I could have prevented with a warning.
My treacherous heart whispers his name, but I can't go back. How can I let him touch me knowing these hands let dozens of innocent people die?
The empty Chicago streets blur together as I walk without direction, the cold night air cutting through my thin clothes, though I'm too empty to feel it. People are finishing their normal days. Restaurant owners lowering gates, joggers with earbuds, a mother pushing a stroller. Normal lives with normal problems while I drift past like smoke.
I don't notice the car following me for three blocks, my survival instincts dead along with everything else, until it's too late. The black sedan pulls alongside, doors opening to reveal Volkov soldiers stepping onto the sidewalk. They're armed, professional, clearly expecting resistance from someone trained like me.
My hand twitches toward where my knife should be, but I don't have it. Left it under the mattress at the lakehouse like the fool I am. And even if I had it, what's the point? What'sworth fighting for when Marco's right? I am complicit. Maybe Kazimir's justice is what I deserve.
They approach cautiously, confused by my stillness. One reaches for my arm and I don't resist, don't even tense. Just stand there void and waiting, some part of me thinking maybe this is how it should end. The girl who chose wrong finally facing consequences.
Kaz emerges from the backseat with that cold smile I remember from the compound hallway, taking in my broken state with obvious satisfaction. His cologne is sharp, chemical, nothing like Alexei's warmth that still clings to my skin.
"Sofia Rosetti," he says, circling me slowly. "Walking alone through Chicago after dark. How convenient."
I don't respond. Can't find words in the emptiness where my voice should be.
"My cousin has been looking for you." His tone turns mocking. "He's frantic, actually. It's embarrassing how desperate he's been, calling every contact, threatening his own men. All for you."
Still I say nothing. Stand there like I'm already dead, just waiting for my body to catch up.
Kaz studies my face, pale eyes so like Alexei's but holding none of his fire. "Something's shattered in you." He tilts his head, assessing. "Good. That makes this easier."
His men guide me toward the car and I don't resist, feet moving automatically, that same mechanical walk that carried me from Marco's study. Some distant part of my mind, the part Nico trained, screams that I should fight, should run, should do something. But the larger part, the part drowning in truth, thinks maybe I deserve whatever justice Kaz has planned.
The car door closes with finality. The leather seats smell new. My phone buzzes again in my pocket, insistent now, but I don't reach for it. Let him think I ran from him. Better that thanknowing the truth: I'm the girl who destroyed both our families before we ever met.
Kaz settles beside me, that satisfied smile never wavering. "You know, I was prepared for a fight. Had contingencies for someone with your training. But this?" He gestures at my hollow state. "This is so much better. Sofia Rosetti, broken before I even had to try."
The car turns toward the industrial district. Through the tinted windows, Chicago slides past. The city going to sleep, normal problems like traffic and burnt dinner and meetings that don't end in blood.
"Mikhail would be fascinated," Kaz continues, watching my face for a reaction. "To know the girl he died for turned out to be such a disappointment. All that potential, wasted."
The words should hurt, but I'm past feeling. All I hear is Marco's voice echoing in my head: "Complicit. Complicit. Complicit."
"Nothing to say?" Kaz seems almost disappointed by my silence. "No begging? No bargaining? No asking what I plan to do?"
What's the point? Whatever he has planned can't be worse than living with what I know now. Rosetti names carved into my bones. My father's last smile before I let him drive to his death. Mikhail dying because I kept a promise that killed everyone anyway.
The car slows, gravel crunching under tires. Wherever we are, it's quiet. Isolated. Perfect for whatever Kaz has planned.
