Upstairs, we slammed the door shut and locked it. The sounds outside were chaos—gunfire, shouting, like the whole house was collapsing from the inside.
"Fuck," I muttered, pacing. "What the hell is happening?"
She didn't answer. Just sat against the wall, head tipped back, breathing hard. Like she'd already given up.
Then the door opened.
He stepped in—masked like the others, but different. Slower. Confident. Like none of this could touch him.
"Drop it," I said, aiming right at his chest.
He didn't. Instead, he took the mask off.
I froze.
That face—I know it.
"I was hoping we'd meet like this," he said.
I kept the gun up. "So it's been you all along."
He gave a lazy shrug. "You killed my father."
I didn't blink. "He deserved worse."
He looked past me then. At her. "Should I say it, or do you want to?"
I turned. Confused, as she stepped forward and lowered her weapon.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, heart sinking.
No reply. She just kept walking. Stopped in front of him.
Then kissed him. Deeply. Like I wasn't even there.
I lifted the gun on instinct, pure rage surging—
Click.
Empty.
"No," I muttered in disbelief.
My stomach dropped. They both looked at me like they'd won. Maybe they had.
"You really should've checked," he said, voice almost gentle. "Before trusting the wrong person."
I looked at her. She didn't flinch. Didn't explain. Didn't care.
My throat tightened.
"You—"
But she didn't answer.
He raised his gun.
"A life for a life," he said. "Time to die."
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time, I didn't fight it. No more running. No more lies. I was tired.
"Do it," I whispered.
Two shots rang out. My body hit the floor.
But I wasn't alone. There was another thud.
Then… silence.