Back locked.
Like I’m walking into a sanctuary again—except this time, I know exactly who I’m offering myself to.
Not an altar.
Her.
Whatever steps through that doorway.Whatever Carlo still has left.Whatever bullets are waiting—
None of it terrifies me more than the thought of her chained to a chair again.
The man who walked into this warehouse wore guilt like armor.
The man standing here now?
He’s something else.
Boots shift.
Metal scrapes.
Someone swears under his breath.
I smile.
Small.
Sharp.
“Stay with me,” I tell her.
She presses closer. “Try and get rid of me.”
The first shadow breaks free from the corridor.
I move to meet it.
And for the first time in my life, ringed in enemies—
My blood is clear.
My head is clean.
I am not afraid.
The Antihero Emerges: Santino’s Ruthless Calculus
The first guard rounds the corner, boots scraping concrete, gun already coming up—
I move before the thought finishes forming.
My fist detonates against his jaw with a sound like wet marble splitting. Bone meets bone. His teeth clap together once—sharp, obscene—and then his body folds like someone yanked the power cord. He drops without ceremony.
No prayer.No mercy.Just gravity and blood.
The second charge, already shouting.
I pivot, catch his wrist mid-swing, and twist until the joint gives way with a sound a human body should never make. He screams. The gun clatters free. I kick it into the dark without looking, metal skidding away like a secret trying to escape. I drive my elbow into his throat hard enough to erase the noise and let him sink to his knees, coughing red.
