"Any last words?" Viktor asks, pulling a gun from inside his jacket. The same gun he probably used to kill Katya. "Any final pleas for mercy?"
I lift my head and meet his eyes. "Yes. Go to hell."
His finger moves toward the trigger.
Suddenly, gunfire erupts from every direction. Dimitri's men pour through the shattered windows like avenging angels, their weapons raised, their movements precise and coordinated.
Viktor's men scatter, some returning fire, others diving for cover. The two who were holding me release their grip and reach for their weapons. I roll away, scrambling behind a stack of old crates stacked against the hallway wall as bullets tear through the air above me.
Through the chaos, I see Dimitri.
He comes through the main entrance like death incarnate, his face a mask of cold fury. The eight-pointed star tattoo on his chest is visible through his partially unbuttoned tactical vest. He's firing with deadly accuracy, taking down Viktor's men with controlled, efficient shots.
Our eyes meet across the factory floor, and even in the middle of this hell, I feel it. That connection. That bond that's been forged through fire and blood and impossible choices.
He's here. He came for me.
But Viktor is moving. While his men provide covering fire, while the factory becomes a war zone, my father is running toward a back exit, slipping away like the coward he is.
No.
Not this time.
Dimitri is fighting his way toward me, but he's blocked by three of Viktor's men. Alexei is somewhere to my left, coordinating the assault. The factory is filled with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder.
And Viktor is getting away.
I think about Katya. About her smile, her dreams, her life stolen by the man who was supposed to protect her. I think about all the years of manipulation, of being treated like property, of watching my father sacrifice everything and everyone for power.
I make my choice. I spot a fallen gun and grab it.
I break from cover and run toward the back exit, keeping low, using the smoke and chaos as cover. Behind me, I hear Dimitri shout my name, but I don't stop. Can't stop.
Viktor is almost to the door when I catch up to him. He hears my footsteps and spins, his gun coming up, but I'm faster. I fire once, hitting him in the shoulder. He stumbles backward, his weapon clattering to the floor.
"Alina." His voice is strained with pain. "Don't be stupid. You're not a killer."
I advance on him, the gun steady in my hands. "Wanna bet?"
He's backed against the wall now, blood spreading across his expensive shirt. The same shirt he probably wore when he killed Katya.
"She loved you," I say, my voice breaking. "Despite everything, despite how you treated us, Katya still loved you. And you killed her."
"I did what was necessary." Even now, even bleeding and cornered, he's defiant. "For the family. For our legacy."
"You destroyed our family." Tears stream down my face, but my hands don't shake. “There is no family anymore. There's just you and your ambition and the bodies you've left behind."
Behind me, the gunfire is dying down. Dimitri's men are winning. I can hear footsteps approaching, voices calling out in Russian.
Viktor's eyes dart past me, looking for escape, for salvation. There is none.
"Alina, please." For the first time, I hear fear in his voice. "I'm your father. You can't do this."
"You stopped being my father the moment you sold me to Sergei. You stopped being human the moment you killed Katya."
I raise the gun, pointing it at his chest. At his heart. The same place where Sergei took the bullets that killed him.
"Alina." Dimitri's voice is close now. "Wait."
