There’s a satisfying crunch. Javier reels back, stunned, blood spraying from his split lip—but he recovers fast. Too fast. He’s raising his gun again—
But Marcus is already between us, blocking my path, his weapon shifting—but not toward me.
“Mátala!” Javier bellows, voice ragged, rage slashing through every syllable. “Kill her!”
Marcus… looks at him.
Then looks at the tree line.
Bodhi and Matteo are emerging slowly from the woods like phantoms, both armed, both calm in that lethal,finalway that makes the air go still.
Bodhi’s face is carved from ice. Cold rage.
Javier snarls, blood on his teeth, and snaps his arm up toward me. His finger pulls the trigger with deadly intent.
Click.
Nothing.
The empty, hollow sound rings louder than any gunshot.
His expression fractures.
He looks at the gun. Then at Marcus.
And in that moment, I see it.
Betrayal.
Pure. Guttural. Soul-deep.
He stares at Marcus like the world just cracked open beneath him, disbelief etched in every furious line of his face. As if all his power has just been ripped from his hands—and handed to someone else.
“You—” he chokes, voice strangled.
Marcus doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t speak. He just holds Javier’s gaze with that same dead calm as before.
Bodhi steps forward, slow and deliberate, barrel still trained steady on the man who made him.
Marcus’ head dips toward Bodhi and he says: “Long live the king.”
Javier freezes.
I don’t breathe. My pulse hammers like a war drum.
“You said you wanted him in the ground,” I snap, turning toward them, my fury like a blade between my ribs. “Soare you going to shoot him? Or was that just another fucking lie?!”
Bodhi doesn’t blink. “I do want him dead,” he says, voice low and razor-sharp. “But that honor was never going to be mine.”
Matteo steps up beside him, eyes never leaving Javier. “It was always going to be yours, Seanna.”
My gaze snaps to him. I blink. The words hit harder than I expect.
“What?” I rasp, the fury choking a little on something else—something deeper.
“Our gift to you,” Matteo says.
Bodhi nods, slow and solemn. “He dies by your hand, Seanna. That was always the plan.”