Page 68 of Psychotic Faith
My body convulses once, a last desperate attempt at survival before my hands fall away from his wrists. The tunnel visioncollapses until all I can see is his face, that smile, the same view my mother had as she died.
The last bit of light fades. My lungs burn, every cell screaming for oxygen while my brain shuts down in stages.
The last thing I see is his smile.
Then darkness claims me, and I understand with perfect clarity that I chose wrong. I chose law over violence, evidence over action, patience over brutal immediate justice.
I chose wrong, and now I'll die exactly like my mother did—aware until the very end that I failed.
Somewhere below, something explodes. The building shakes.
He's coming.
Even as consciousness fades, my body knows its owner. Knows that violence is about to answer violence.
But I won't be alive to see it.
26 - Luca
Ten minutes earlier
The luxury suite on the eighth floor might as well be a prison cell.
"For your own good," Marco had said, guiding me here with six of our men after I'd vowed to kill them all for letting her use herself as bait. "She needs to do this alone, and you need to not interfere."
"Fuck you."
"Plus, you need not to kill us all," Marco added like this was all some big joke.
The lock engaged from the outside—electronic, no manual override. They'd planned this. Known I'd never let her face Neumann alone. The betrayal burns almost as much as the fear.
Now my fists bleed from hitting the reinforced walls, knuckles split from testing every weakness. Through the window, the conference center mocks me. So close. She's right there, playing bait while I'm trapped like an animal.
"I've been having dreams lately." Faith's voice crackles through the wire feed, that vulnerability making my chest crack. She's using herself as bait, and they've locked me here to stop me from interfering. "Or maybe memories? From when I was young."
My body slams into the door again, using my full weight. The electronic lock holds. No manual override, no weakness in the frame. Marco planned this perfectly. The impact sends painshooting through my shoulder, and I realize I've been hitting this door for too long, too hard. Something's not right in the joint.
"Minor disturbance on eight," Alex says from outside, his voice carrying through the door. "Nothing I can't handle."
My guard. My own brother stationed outside to keep me contained while Faith walks into Neumann's trap. The irony would be funny if rage wasn't eating me alive.
"Perhaps we should discuss this privately," Neumann's voice makes my vision fracture red. "My office is upstairs."
I pace to the minibar, mind racing. Chemistry degree, years of knowledge about reactions and compounds. The vodka gleams clear in its bottle. High proof. Flammable. My hands move without conscious thought, grabbing bottles. Gin. Rum. Anything over eighty proof.
The bathroom yields window cleaner, ammonia-based. Not ideal, but workable. I tear apart the smoke detector, extracting the nine-volt battery. The lamp cord gets stripped with my teeth, copper wire exposed. Ethanol doesn't burn hot enough alone. I need an oxidizer. The battery's lithium could work, but it's too unstable. A simple accelerant will have to do. Sometimes brute force beats elegance.
"Actually, let's use the executive boardroom," Neumann says through the wire. "Tenth floor."
That's not the plan. My hands shake as I soak a towel in the alcohol mixture, creating an improvised fuse.
Then the wire cuts to static.
Complete silence.
"Lost signal," Nico's voice comes through Alex's earpiece, just loud enough for me to hear. "Can't find her signal."
The panic hits like ice water. No more pretending she's safe. No more faith in the plan. She's alone with him, and the silence could mean anything. Could mean everything.
