Chapter 169

"You’re not doing this for her own good?"

Torman’s question chilled my blood, but Dante didn’t hesitate.

"Her life isn’t my concern. If each of my men asked to kill her right now, I’d do it. No discussions."

There was no reluctance. Dante didn’t stutter. His tone was clear, potent in just the right measure, evoking precisely the reaction he wanted from everyone in that room.

My heart tightened before I could regain a steady breath.

Part of me already knew.

Part of me felt the same urge, but even so, I lost a little of what remained of my regard for him every time.

Francis looked at us, his useless pipe still in his hands.

"Well, if the captain said it, then it’s settled." I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "But what about her? Doesn’t she prefer death over living with the guy who killed her parents, kid?"

My grimace was enough for the old man to know I wasn’t remotely interested in having this conversation.

I tried to get up, but the force Dante applied to my chair didn’t let it budge an inch.

"Answer, Gray. We’re all curious to hear."

Even without seeing, I knew Dante was enjoying himself.

"Nothing could be more fatal than accepting the girl who’ll bring their downfall. I’m perfectly fine with that. Thanks for the concern."

My sarcasm drew a faint smile from Jaxon but a devastating look from Cole. Asher and Vance showed nothing but indifference. And Dante was an enigma, especially because he stayed behind me.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a life to handle."

I pushed the chair forcefully, and Dante was obliged to let me go.

I headed to my makeshift room, my headache worse than before. I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I was there for one purpose: to give Dante the damn map and kill him afterward. So, of course, he wouldn’t have a great desire to protect me. I was a backup plan in case everything went wrong, and I accepted that knowing full well.

My choice had seemed right at the time, but now I wondered if it was worth it.

But I was going to die.

Even if I fled the country, they’d hunt me down. And I wasn’t great at escaping. Both attempts had failed.

"You know there’s no way out of this, right?" The smoker’s voice made me turn before entering the room. "Getting into this world is a one-way path. You see things that mark you. You do things you regret for the rest of your life. Your soul gets scarred. Either you live inhumanly, or you die with dignity. There’s no escaping."

My lips tightened.

"And what did you expect me to do? I had no choice. They condemned me the moment they killed my parents."

Torman let out a raspy laugh.

"The death of your parents wasn’t a condemnation. It was salvation, girl. You should be thanking them, not lamenting."

Thanking them?

Every time I revisited the piercing memories of knowing my parents were dead, my system had a visceral response.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t I? You’re just a bitch in love with your parents’ killer, and because you can’t deal with that, you want to see him dead. That doesn’t make you better than anyone. In fact, it just makes you like the bastards your parents were."

The distance between us wasn’t short, but in mere milliseconds, I made sure my hand connected with his face. The crack of the slap broke the air, the sting in my palm no greater than the redness blooming on Francis’s cheek.

I stopped my tears from falling.

I couldn’t let them.

I wouldn’t.

Torman turned, his rage more intimidating than before. My bones trembled, and I felt minuscule, but I wouldn’t take back what I’d done. I wouldn’t let him treat me that way.

"If you lay a hand on her, I’ll cut off each of your fingers and make you swallow them. According to my last victims, well, it’s not the best experience."

Dante’s voice approached, as intense as his steps.

Torman glared at me before turning, his nostrils flaring.

"I thought her life wasn’t your concern."

"But her death is. Anything involving Emília goes through me. I don’t want any mark of yours on her skin. You know how territorial I am. Don’t ask for a fight with me."

My muscles froze.

I couldn’t speak, only watch as the battle brewed, with Faulkner emerging as a victorious god.

Francis lost his composure. Dante towered over him. His aura dominated the space.

"Let’s hope things remain as they always have, and that Gray doesn’t jeopardize us again," Torman said, cautious. He was scared. Terrified. How could someone who had raised Dante for years be so afraid of his actions? "Take care."

He left, taking part of my essence with him. His words started to haunt my thoughts, and I felt like a part of my humanity was truly dying.

I was being manipulated by my memories without even realizing it. I was losing every battle I had with thirteen-year-old Emília over a figure that never existed. Over a Dante who had never been good.

Over the idea of a future that no longer had any chance of happening.

"Don’t think."

My eyes met Dante’s, so close to me. His scrutiny was intense as it analyzed my lost expression.

"Nothing and no one destroys you more than your own mind. It’s your ally but also your enemy. If you keep dwelling on your decisions, you’ll end up regretting them."

I clenched my fist.

"Is that how you decide your victims’ fates?" I asked, imagining how my parents’ deaths had been carried out without a second thought. I couldn’t tell if it brought me relief or pain.

"Don’t ask a question you already know the answer to."

I stepped back, afraid of falling even deeper into the darkness of his shadow.

"Who really is Christian Norman? Is he like Batman to the Joker?"

I asked, changing the subject.

"Norman is what Torman is to us. A corrupt cop. But instead of being against the Factory, he belongs to the network."

The revelation hit me hard.

To think that the person I would have sought to ask for Dante’s death was a thousand times worse than him was the wake-up call I needed.

Norman had always been the one who didn’t want Dante in society. Who saw the boys as complete delinquents who needed to be eliminated. I assumed it was for his honor as a policeman, but I was wrong.

God, who were all these people?