I feel Niko in peripheral death glaring me.
Igor can have what he wants. He can take my business away from me and claim it for himself. What other purpose do I have left to fulfill?
Winning has always equaled punishment.
‘That just makes me feel sorry for you.’I hear Joy’s voice echoing through this very valley as I face my son.
I’ll never be satisfied.
I’ll continue punishing people until eventually someone finds a way to stop me. And I don’t want to die that way. My son shooting me carries more meaning. It means I’ll die in the hope of changing him.
And I could never change myself.
“Don’t take your anger out on these men, Igor,” I warn him. “They’re not responsible for what happened.”
Igor’s ice-cold gaze cuts through the wind.
Despite standing a few meters away from each other, this is the first real time we’re connecting.
“You got Joy pregnant.” Igor’s mouth twists in anger.
“I wish I could apologize for that. But I can’t. My love for her blooms more each day.”
And it’s out of my control, which was why I seized up when Siguard approached with his gun.
He takes everyone I love away from me.
“Thank you for killing Siguard.”
“I did it for my mom. Not to spare your life.”
I nod, stepping through blowing wildflowers, approaching Igor. “I understand. Siguard deserved to die. But these men don’t.” I stare at him. “If you do this, you’ll be chasing revenge for the rest of your life and feel it slipping further away from you more each year until you end up killing yourself.”
Igor studies my face, his hair blowing in the wind, shielding his eyes. The gun is still fixed in his hand, pointed to the line of assassins…
And then the muzzle slowly creeps my way.
A vulture comes into land, distracting us, the sound of ripping flesh filling the air as it pecks at the dead men.
Intestines hang from its beak, swallowing and going in for seconds.
Some of its friends land, their large black wings expanding, turning the atmosphere dark for a second.
They dig their talons into flesh, ripping, pecking, attacking organs.
I stare into Igor’s gun. Seems like fair justice.
“Do it,” I prompt him, staring into his eyes.
Igor’s jaw trembles, his grip tightening.
The gun shakes in his hand. He can’t hold it steady while looking at me.
I hold my arms above my head, making this easier for him by turning around.
“You really fucking love her, don’t you?” whispers Igor, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. “You want me to kill you because you have nothing else left to live for. Not even me.”
“Kinda why I’m doing this, Igor,” I deadpan, keeping my back turned. “You should know by now I’m not one for teaching lessons the easy way.”
