Page 182 of Hell and High Water

“I am a visionary, so yes. I am driven. Unstoppable. The sooner you accept that, accept me, the happier you’ll be.”

But I know I’ll never be happy again.

“Give it time, Elena. And then, when you are ready, join me and be the wife your mother could never be.”

Every spark inside me gutters. Sputters. And winks out.

This is the way it will end. The only satisfaction I’ll ever feel again is the day that I slide a knife across this man’s throat. The day I take his life.

And I will kill Marco Vice.

If it’s the last thing I do.

EPILOGUE 1: DAMON

Dear Hellena,

My daughter, my heir, my hope.

A good friend once told me that to master one’s self is to master the world, the entire universe. At the time, I rolled my eyes, chalking it up to our drunken rambling. That and the spiritual place we found ourselves, holed up at a monastery somewhere in the Himalayas.

It wasn’t until years later as the pains of loss, the pains of aging, and the fears of having a wife wore on me that I began to understand what he meant.

Because my fear controlled me.

My love controlled me.

My emotions ruled over every decision I made. They were my universe, consuming my existence.

So one day, the day you were born, Hellena, I made a decision.

That I would master myself. That I would master a life that would provide a future for the place I called home, a place Hellena might one day call home. This was before I sent you away or had any idea that I might have to.

But it was life altering.

You became my life, Hellena.

And it gave me the purpose and resolve to make any hard choice. To sacrifice anything for a future for you.

I do not regret most of the choices I made. I do not regret the killing. Those things rest on my shoulders alone, and I will take them to the grave.

But I do regret that I did not fully succeed in my mission. I only hope that I have set things in motion that cannot be undone. That will lead to a future free from the insidious influence of my counterparts.

This will be my final message, my final journal entry.

Even if I make it through the end of this week, it won't matter. I've set things into motion that can't be undone no matter what I do. I made certain that I can’t take back the choice.

I've placed an order, so to speak, that can't be rescinded. Take that as you will. I won’t divulge the details here. I will spare you that much.

If anyone finds this journal, if you are reading this, Hellena, know that this account of the things we did in Sanctum Harbor, know that what I did was only in pursuit of the greater good. And as I write those words, I realize how evil they are.

And I have done evil in the name of good. Is that worse?

Yet it strikes me even now as damn near hilarious that the ultimate goal, the ideal future, will be one where there’s not a trace of us left even as you read this history. So maybe you should throw this book away. Forget you ever read it.

If there’s nothing of the Sinful left, I urge you to do so.

Turn around and run at any sign of our symbol, any hint of our meddling. As much time as I spent outlining our methods, teaching whoever might read this to take over, I find that I have no hope for that to happen.

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