Page 213 of Fractured Devotion
“And you thought loyalty would survive this?” I ask, tilting my head slightly. “After what you made me do? What you made me watch?”
“You were built for this,” he snaps, his calm breaking. “You thrived in it. Don’t pretend you didn’t. You liked getting close to her. You liked playing both sides.”
I smile, cold and sharp. “Maybe I did,” I admit, my voice a subtle threat. “But I don’t take orders from dead men.”
He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You think killing me will save you? You think it will save her?”
“No,” I answer, pulling the knife from my belt with slow precision.
“Then why?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, defiant even now.
“Because you don’t deserve to breathe the same air,” I say, every word a blade of its own.
I move fast.
Before he can speak again, I’m on him, slamming the blade into his shoulder and pinning him to the chair.
He grunts, but he doesn’t scream.
“You always were resilient,” I mutter.
“I had to be,” he says through clenched teeth.
I twist the blade, watching his face contort. “You built this,” I say, my voice low. “Every ruined life, every broken mind. You wore it like a crown.”
“And you wear yours like armor,” he hisses.
“No,” I reply, leaning close. “I wear mine like a reminder.”
I pull the knife free, letting the blood spill freely.
“This is what you leave behind,” I say.
I strike fast, clean, ending it with one final thrust.
His body goes limp, his eyes glassy.
Silence fills the room.
I stand over him for a long time, watching the last breath leave his body.
There’s no satisfaction.
No triumph.
Only stillness.
I clean my blade, pocket it, and walk out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind me.
Let them find him like that.
Let them know what it means to be hunted.
I disappear through the halls, unseen as always.
When I step back into the night, the city feels lighter.
I don’t go far.
