Not when betrayal is standing right in front of me, wearing a face I once trusted.
“I trusted you,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
The room goes still.
“I let you close to me,” I continue. “I let you see me.” My throat tightens, but I push through it. “And you sold me out like I was nothing.”
The words hang between us.
Heavy. Raw.
For the first time, Matteo looks shaken and sorry.
His mouth parts slightly.
Like he’s about to say something.
Like he’s about to beg.
And for a split second, my grip loosens.
Because I know myself. I know that if he asks, if he gives me even one reason, I might forgive him.
And I can’t afford that.
Not anymore.
So I don’t let him speak.
I pull the trigger.
The gunshot cracks through the room—loud, final, unforgiving.
Matteo’s body jerks back against the chair, then collapses instantly.
“Damn,” Lukyan mutters, almost impressed. “That was good.”
Misha doesn’t speak. His eyes are wide, watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
I can feel Timofey’s gaze on me.
Heavy.
Disapproving.
I don’t look at him.
I don’t want to see it.
Slowly, I lower the gun.
My hand doesn’t shake.
My expression doesn’t change. Because something inside me has shifted. Irrevocably.
This war—
My father’s legacy—
