I lifted my chin slightly. “I don’t need your warnings.”
My voice cracked, just once, but that single falter carried everything I hadn’t said.
“It’s not like you actually care.”
He didn’t respond.
Didn’t deny it.
Just... silence.
And that silence spoke louder than any words ever could.
My throat tightened.
I swallowed, forcing the soundless sobs back into a cage. “Can I go now?”
Vincenzo inclined his head slightly. “You may leave.”
I turned, determined to escape before the tears fell—but they came anyway.
Hot. Fast. Uncontrolled.
At first, they were silent—a tightness in my throat, a pressure behind my eyes.
Then, inevitably, they broke, shattering the control I’d clung to so desperately.
My steps faltered as I moved toward the stairs leading into the Crimson Chamber hall.
Each step heavier than the last.
My chest shook.
Small, broken sounds escaped before I could trap them.
Gasps.
Sobs.
Fragments of something I couldn’t hold together anymore.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth.
Trying to silence it. Trying to contain it.
But it leaked out anyway.
Quiet. Shattered.
I thought I was stronger than this.
I’d survived black-bag missions.
Interrogations.
Five years of being erased, of being someone no one could trace.
I had killed when I had no other choice.
