And there it is—the truth he didn't want to reveal. I fired as I fell, and I hit him. A cold satisfaction spreads through me despite everything.
"So I did hurt you," I say. "All these years, while you were playing puppet master with Zoe's life, you were carrying a reminder of your failure."
Byron's expression hardens. "Failure? I took everything from you that night. Your woman, your child, your peace of mind. And now I'll finally finish what I started."
"Wait a fucking minute," I say, my mind racing through the hazy memories of that night. "How the hell did I manage to shoot you if I was on my back? You said you hit me from behind. I would have fallen forward, not backward."
Something flickers in Byron's eyes—uncertainty, perhaps even fear.
"You twisted as you fell," he snaps, but there's a defensive edge to his voice now. "It was chaotic."
"Bullshit," I spit, the pieces finally coming together. "If you hit me from behind, I couldn't havefired at you unless I was a contortionist. And if I was facing you when you struck me, then you weren't behind me."
Byron's jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening around the gun.
"You're lying about something," I press, watching his face carefully. "What really happened that night, Byron? You didn't plan it all, did you? Something went wrong."
"Shut up," he growls, jamming the barrel harder against my chest.
"You weren't in control like you want me to believe," I continue. "Maybe Travis wasn't as soft as you claim. Maybe he tried to stop you when he realized what you really intended for Bianca."
A bead of sweat trickles down Byron's temple.
"Was it Travis who shot you? Did your puppet cut his strings?" I ask, the words dripping with venom. "Is that why you had to kill him? Not because he was useless, but because he turned on you when he saw what kind of monster you really are?"
"Fine," he spits. " Once Travis saw that I shot Bianca he tried to stop me. The fucking idiot thought we were just going to scare her." His laugh is hollow, cold. "He panicked when I pulled the trigger. He shot me and his bullet grazed my leg."
I feel a sickening twist in my gut. "So Travis tried to save her."
"Too little, too late," Byron sneers. "I'd already put a bullet in your pretty fiancée's head. And I made sure Travis joined her shortly after."
"I gave Zoe a proper funeral for her father, you know," Byron continues, his voice suddenly softer, almost tender. "A beautiful service. Closed casket, of course. Told her it was because the damage was too severe toview the body." He smiles, pleased with himself. "I even wept genuine tears."
His eyes narrow as he studies my face. "But that's always bothered me, Feretti. What did you do with Travis's body after you killed him? Did you burn it? Feed it to the fishes? I always wondered what you did to the man you thought that killed her."
I feel a strange calm settling over me. The truth is finally coming out after twelve years of nightmares. Even if he kills me, I know the truth now.
"Enzo handled Travis's body," I say, my voice steady despite the pain radiating through me. "I never asked for the details."
Byron tilts his head, curious despite himself. "And you never asked what he did?"
I shrug my good shoulder, chains rattling above me. "What was there to ask? We have methods. Acid. Concrete. The ocean. I assumed he used one of those." I lock eyes with him, letting my hatred show. "I didn't care about the body. I cared about Bianca."
"All these years," Byron says, shaking his head in mock sympathy, "you've been blaming the wrong man. How does it feel to know you've been hunting ghosts while I've been right here?"
"It doesn't matter," I reply. "Travis, you – you're both responsible for what happened to her. And you'll both end up the same way."
"After I kill you, I'm going to find that ungrateful little bitch and make her suffer in ways you can't imagine," he says, eyes glinting with malice. "Everything I gave her, everything I sacrificed, and she betrays me for you? She'll learn what happens to people who cross me."
I force myself to stay calm despite every instinct screaming to protect Zoe. Lucrezia's screams havestopped, which could mean anything, but I need to keep Byron talking.
"My men will be back," I say through gritted teeth. "You won't make it out of here alive."
Byron throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. When he looks back at me, there's a reckless abandon in his eyes.
"You think I care about that? About living?" He shakes his head, still chuckling. "I'm already a dead man walking, Feretti."
My brow furrows as he steps back, keeping the gun trained on me but creating enough distance to meet my eyes.
