The apartment was silent, but the air buzzed with unspoken tension. It was the kind of silence that felt loud, pressing down on my chest like a weight I couldn't shake. This was it. The moment we had been preparing for, the final confrontation that would decide everything.
And yet, my mind kept drifting back to last night.
The way Clara’s lips felt on mine. The warmth of her body against me. The quiet promise we had made without words.
I wanted more time.
But time was a luxury we didn’t have.
Marcelo’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Everyone knows the plan?”
A series of nods followed. We had been over it a dozen times. We were as ready as we’d ever be.
Evelyn tapped away at her laptop, her face illuminated by the screen’s glow. “Richard is already at the docks. He has at least fifteen men with him, heavily armed.”
Leo let out a low whistle. “So, we’re basically walking into our own execution. Love that for us.”
Clara ignored him, her eyes locked onto the screen. “Any sign of reinforcements?”
Evelyn shook her head. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean they won’t show up.”
Marcelo checked his gun. “Then we hit first.”
I swallowed hard. My hands felt cold. I wasn’t carrying a weapon—violence had never been my way. But I knew what was at stake.
Richard wasn’t going to stop.
And if we didn’t end this tonight, he would.
The car ride was tense.
Marcelo drove with practiced precision, his knuckles tight around the wheel. Evelyn sat beside him, her eyes flicking between her phone and the road, tracking Richard’s every move.
Leo was in the back, muttering under his breath, shifting restlessly.
And then there was Clara.
Sitting next to me, close enough that our arms touched, but she hadn’t said a word since we left.
She was in her own head.
Planning. Preparing.
I reached for her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
Clara turned, her dark eyes searching mine. For a second, I thought she might pull away.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she squeezed my hand.
Silent reassurance.
Silent goodbye.
I ignored the way my stomach twisted at the thought.
The moment we stepped onto the docks, I felt it.
The weight of something final.
The air smelled of salt and rust, the sound of water slapping against wood the only thing breaking the eerie silence.
Evelyn had been right—there were men stationed all around, standing at attention like soldiers waiting for a command. They were armed, alert.
Waiting for us.
Marcelo surveyed the scene with a sharp eye. “He knows we’re here.”
Leo scoffed. “Of course, he does. The bastard probably planned it this way.”
Evelyn’s voice was tight. “Then we make sure he regrets it.”
We split into position. Evelyn and Leo stayed back, monitoring from a safe distance. Marcelo flanked the east side, cutting off any potential escape routes.
That left Clara and me.
The ones Richard wanted most.
The ones he had been waiting for.
Clara turned to me, her hands warm as they cupped my face.
“Stay close to me,” she murmured.
I swallowed hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She hesitated, then pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to my lips.
One more moment.
One more breath before we stepped into the unknown.
Then, together, we walked forward.
Richard was already waiting.
He stood in the middle of the docks, his men fanned out behind him like pieces on a chessboard.
He was calm. Relaxed.
Like a man who already thought he had won.
Clara’s grip on my hand tightened.
Richard’s gaze landed on her first.
“Clara,” he drawled, tilting his head. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”
Clara’s voice was ice. “You wanted a war. Here we are.”
Richard’s lips curled into a slow smile. “And her?” His eyes slid to me, dark with amusement. “You brought her, too. How sentimental.”
A chill ran down my spine, but I refused to look away.
Clara took a step forward, blocking me from his view. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you myself.”
Richard chuckled. “So dramatic.”
He shifted his stance, hands in his pockets. “You know, Clara, I always admired your spirit. It’s a shame you had to turn it against me.”
Clara didn’t flinch. “You don’t get to play the victim here.”
Richard sighed. “I suppose not. But you do get to choose.”
My stomach dropped.
Richard’s eyes flickered back to me. “Her life. Or yours.”
Clara stiffened. “That’s not a choice.”
Richard’s smile widened. “No?”
With a snap of his fingers, one of his men grabbed me from behind, yanking me away from Clara.
I gasped, struggling against the iron grip holding me in place.
Clara reacted instantly, reaching for the gun at her waist.
Richard tsked. “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that.”
Another man lifted a gun—pointed directly at my head.
Clara froze.
The air crackled with tension.
Richard’s voice was almost gentle. “Now, let’s try this again.”
He took a step closer to Clara, lowering his voice to a whisper.
“Who do you love more?”
The world narrowed to a single moment.
A single breath.
Clara’s fingers curled into fists at her sides.
And then, in the smallest voice, she said, “Her.”
Richard sighed, shaking his head. “Disappointing.”
Then, everything exploded at once.
A gun fired.
Someone screamed.
The grip on me loosened for half a second, and I didn’t hesitate—I moved.
Marcelo’s voice cut through the chaos. “Go! Now!”
Clara lunged, yanking me forward, her hands hot and desperate as she pulled me behind cover.
More shots rang out. Shouts. Chaos.
Everything was moving too fast.
Richard was still standing, barking orders to his men.
And Clara—Clara was beside me, her breath ragged, her body tense as she reloaded her gun.
I grabbed her arm. “Clara.”
Her eyes burned into mine.
“We end this,” she whispered.
And then, she was gone.