Chapter 165 165

Chapter 165 165
I pull the trigger.

His last words stay with me long after the gunshot has echoed. Long after his body slumps to the ground, a fresh hole at the center of his forehead.

Long after the light has gone out.

A scream cuts through my fog. My gaze flicks towards the sound, finding Nikita clutching her knives against Gwen.

Her back comes to rest against mine. “I can’t,” she pants. “I’m too weak, Yulian.”

“No, you’re not.” I yank down her sleeve, baring the scars she gave herself after her sister’s death. “Now, go get her. For Kira.”

And Mom, Dad, Alina.

I never thought I’d entrust my revenge to someone else. Never thought I’d turn it down for mercy.

But mercy is what I needed. It’s what Desya needed, deep down, to let his sins go. It’s the lesson Mia taught me, day after day, every time she chose hope over violence.

I don’t need revenge anymore.

But Nikita does.

I can see the change in her almost instantly. Her back straightens, her shoulders square up. Her grip on her knives tightens.

Then she’s jumping.

Her feet strike the concrete pillar once, twice. She parkours off it, gaining the high ground, letting out a scream as she plunges down on her target.

Gwen doesn’t stand a chance.

She seems to realize it, too, one moment before it happens. That she’s done for. She’s been in the army—she knows what death looks like up close.

Though perhaps not this up close.

Nikita’s knives slice into her face. Her eyes, specifically—talk about poetic justice. It’s pure, gory carnage, the stuff of B-movies and nightmares.

Then Gwen is gone.

Nikita heaves with the effort. “I… I did it.” Her eyes widen with realization. “I avenged you, Kira.”

I’m at her side in an instant. “You did good, Nik.”

“I did it.” She’s crying now, a mix of happy and sad tears. Mostly, though, it’s exhaustion. “I did it, Yulian. I did it.”

“You did,” I confirm. “Prizrak’s dead. It’s over.”

Her eyes fix on something far away. Then her expression shifts to horror. “No, it’s not,” she whispers.

I follow her gaze to the other end of the parking lot.

Then my heart drops. “No.”

It can’t be. It can’t⁠—

But it is.

Brad, standing in the middle of the exit, a gun to his own son’s head.

Right in front of Mia.

63

MIA

This is a nightmare. I pinch myself hard enough to draw blood. This has to be a nightmare.

But I don’t wake up.

Because it’s real.

Brad’s gun is shaking against Eli’s head. His grip isn’t firm, not in the slightest. Somehow, that terrifies me more than anything. “Let him go, Brad.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” His face is still bloody from where Desya socked him earlier, his clothes in complete disarray. “He came to me, you know.” His tone takes on a manic edge. “That’s gotta be a sign, right?”

I lock eyes with Eli. He looks more terrified than I’ve ever seen him, and with good reason. “It’s okay, baby,” I lie, because I have to. Because, right now, the truth would only be crueler. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m s-sorry, Mommy,” he sobs. “I-I saw you outside my window, but then you were gone. Then Aunt Nik was coming, so I snuck into her c-car⁠—”

“Quiet,” Brad interrupts. “The adults are talking now.”

Something sharp hardens in me. Something cold and deadlier than any gun.

A mother’s rage.

“Don’t you dare treat him like that!” I scream. “He’s your son! How could you do this to your own son?!”

“Should you really be making demands of me?” He digs the mouth of his gun harder into Eli’s temple to make a point. “I’ve got the upper hand now, Mia. You know I do.”

“You always make the same mistake, don’t you?”

“What… mistake?”

“Getting attached.”

Our earlier conversation plays back in my mind. It fills me with dread that he’d really do this. Last time he pointed a gun at him, Eli wasn’t awake to remember. And I always thought, deep down, that he’d been bluffing, manipulating me the best way he knew how.

But what if he really means it?

“Okay.” I take a deep breath, make a calming motion with my hands. “Let’s talk, alright? Let’s just talk about this.”

“So you can trick me again?” He scoffs. “No, thanks. I’m taking the little bastard.”

“I’ll come with you,” I say. “Let him go, and I’ll come. Right here, right now.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” His tone twists with fury. “I don’t want you anymore, Euphemia. Better yet, I don’t fucking need you. But you know what I do want?” He smirks, cruel and vicious. “To make the rest of your life hell.”

“Then just take me!” I’m sobbing now, begging harder than I’ve begged before. “Take me, do what you want with me, but just⁠—”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You don’t care about yourself. In fact, you don’t give a shit whether you live or die. Sure, I could carve that other little bastard out of you, but what would be the point? You didn’t get to know her. You didn’t spend five years caring for her. And then you’d die, and you wouldn’t even get to fucking miss her.”

“So that’s what this is about?” I croak. “Making me suffer?”

“Yes!” He yells that word loud enough for half the mobsters here to turn. “Like you made me suffer!”

“You son of a bitch,” Yulian bellows, drawing closer. He must have ended his fight and seen what was happening across the lot. “You heartless fucking⁠—”

“Not another step.” Brad pokes the gun into Eli’s head again. It makes him yelp in pain. “Or else I’ll change my plans.”

“You do that, you’ll be dead before you⁠—”

“Stop!” I get between them. Panic is rising inside me, ruling over any rational thought. “Yulian, don’t come any closer. J-Just do as he says. Please.”

He locks eyes with me. He can see the sheer terror in me, the same way I can see how afraid he truly is. There aren’t many things that can scare Yulian Lozhkin, but clearly, the prospect of losing his son is one of them.

His son. I should be correcting myself, but I don’t. Because the truth is, as much as I’ve wanted to salvage something of Brad and Eli’s relationship for Eli’s future⁠—

As much as I’ve wanted my son to have a father⁠—

It turns out, he already did. All along for this past year, he’s had the best father in the universe.

And now, they might lose each other because of me.