And something changes in his face.
Recognition.
“You,” he breathes, voice thick with hatred. “It was always you.”
Maria smiles. Not wide. Not cruel. Something softer. Just how I remember her as a kid.
“Shh,” she murmurs, crouching beside him like she’s checking on someone who’s fainted. “Don’t make her afraid.”
Then her gaze lifts straight into the camera, straight into me.
“Hello, Lily,” she whispers sweetly. “My sweet girl.”
“No,” I choke. “No… no, no…”
Dad’s gaze flicks down to the gun he dropped. It’s lying on the floor beside him, just out of reach. He tries to move his arm, his fingers scraping weakly, but his hand slips in his own blood.
Maria follows his eyes, and she laughs. Quietly. Like he’s funny.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “Looking for this?” She reaches down and picks it up, her fingers wrapping around the weapon like it was always meant to end up in her hand.
My stomach twists violently.
Maria lifts the gun, inspecting it, then looks back up at the camera—at me—with something almost delighted in her eyes.
“Do you want to know something funny?” she asks softly. “This will be the bullet I put in Drago.”
My heart stops. My breath vanishes.
“Because he stole you from me,” she continues, her voice turning intimate. “He took what was mine, and he thought he could keep you. Claim you. Protect you.”
Dad makes a broken sound through his teeth, rage and pain battling inside him as he tries to lift himself again.
Maria doesn’t even look at him. “He killed my husband,” she says calmly, her eyes glittering. “And I should hate him for that… shouldn’t I?”
A beat.
“But the truth?” she whispers. “The organization has never been stronger.”
Her voice drops lower, almost psychotic. “Not under him. Not under any man.”
Dad swallows, his jaw flexing like he’s trying to hold himself together through sheer will.
“With him gone…” Maria breathes, almost worshipping the words, “I ascended. I became the Preacher you all wanted to hunt down.”
The words make my skin crawl, my body shaking with fear. With anger. My mom is the person behind all of this pain. The one tearing through the only family who has ever truly loved me.
The evil that Drago is trying to put a stop to.
It’s her.
“I took the pulpit,” she says quietly. “And everything became cleaner. Sharper. More obedient.”
Dad’s eyes burn. He forces himself forward in one last attempt—his hand shoots out, grabbing for her ankle, trying to yank her down. Trying to take her with him.
Maria steps back like she expected it. Like she’s seen this exact move a thousand times.
Then she kicks him. A brutal blow to his ribs that makes him fold with a sound that splits my soul. He gasps, choking, his forehead hitting the floor, his whole body trembling as he fights for air.
