“I didn’t say kill,” I reply.
Behind me, Delta Five closes in—shapes resolving out of shadow, weapons low but ready. Not a threat.
A fact.
“You built prisons to break men,” I continue. “You built contingencies to hurt civilians. You lost all of it today.”
His jaw tightens—just a fraction.
“Wars don’t end because one man falls,” he says.
“No,” I agree. “They end when men like you stop deciding who bleeds.”
I stop three paces away.
“Today,” I tell him, “you answer for everything you controlled.”
For the first time since I’ve known his name—
Malenkov hesitates.
And in that hesitation, the truth lands.
He isn’t untouchable.
He isn’t watching from a distance.
He isn’t in control.
He’s standing in a forgotten freight yard, surrounded by the men he underestimated.
I hold his gaze.
“Get on your knees,” I say.
And the world waits to see what he chooses.
79
Ronan
Location: Industrial Quarter — Freight Yard Operations Building
Time: 1326 Hours
Malenkov doesn’t move.
Not at first.
He studies me like I’m a variable he hasn’t finished calculating—like if he waits long enough, the equation will correct itself.
It won’t.
“You won’t shoot me,” he says finally. Calm. Certain. “You’re not that kind of man.”
I tilt my head slightly. “You’re right.”
Behind me, Delta Five doesn’t shift. They don’t tighten grips or step forward. They don’t need to.
