“She was twenty-three years old.”
“She was a threat.”
“She was a person!”
“She was both.” James moves slightly, angling toward the gun while keeping me in sight. “And when you have to choose between one person and an entire organization—between one life and the stability that protects thousands—you make the hard call.”
“You make theevilcall.”
“I make the necessary call.” Another step. “That’s what leadership is, Dredyn. Making choices no one else wants to make. Living with consequences no one else could bear. I thought I’d taught you that.”
“You didn’t teach me shit.”
“No? I taught you to fight, to think tactically, to plan three moves ahead. I taught you that sentiment is weakness and power is survival. I taught you everything you used tonight to kill those guards and break into this room.”
“That’s not?—”
“That’s exactly what happened. You used my training, my lessons. You became what I made you… You think you’re different from me? You’re not. You’re just younger, still pretending there’s a difference between necessary violence and evil. Give it time. You’ll learn.”
“I’ll never be like you.”
“You already are.” He gestures at the blood on my clothes, the tactical gear, the knife at my belt. “You walked into this building tonight planning to commit murder. You’re standing here, covered in blood, arguing semantics about whether killing your father counts as patricide or justice. How is that different from what I do?”
“Intent. Motive. The why behind it.”
“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter to the men bleeding outside that door. Dead is dead, regardless of justification.” He takesanother step toward the gun. So do I. We’re closer now. “You keep telling yourself you’re righteous. That this is about saving people, stopping evil, protecting the innocent. But really? This is about a girl. About Mara Black. You’re doing all of this—risking everything, destroying everything—for one person. That’s not heroism, son. That’s obsession.”
“It’s love.”
“It’s weakness, and it’s going to get you killed—getallof you killed. Because the Syndicate doesn’t forgive this kind of betrayal. Even if you kill me—especially if you kill me—they’ll hunt you. Forever. Is she worth that? Is one girl worth spending the rest of your life running?”
“Yes.”
The simplicity of my answer seems to surprise him. He actually stops moving.
“Then you’re a fool. A romantic, sentimental fool. And I’m disappointed. I raised you to be stronger than this.”
“You didn’t raise me at all. You trained me, molded me, shaped me into what you needed me to be. But you never raised me. Never cared about what I wanted or needed or felt. I was just another asset to you. Another piece on your board.”
“That’s not true?—”
“Isn’t it? Name one thing about me that doesn’t relate to the Syndicate or OCK or your plans for succession. One thing you know about who I actually am.”
Silence.
He can’t do it. Can’t name a single personal detail about his own damn son.
“That’s what I thought,” I say quietly.
“I gave you everything I could. I gave you the only things I know how to give. Power. Position.Security.I don’t know how to give the other things… the soft things. But I gave you what I had.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“No. I suppose it wasn’t… So this is how it ends—you and me. Always knew it would come to this eventually, just thought I’d have more time to prepare you.”
“Prepare me for what?”
“To take my place.” He lunges for the gun.
