Page 167

VESPER

"Drop your weapons, Mikhail,"Victor snarls, pressing the gun harder against my head. "Or watch your precious granddaughter's brains paint this holy ground."

My heart hammers against my ribs as I stare down at Oscar and Zaire sprawled on the chapel floor. Blood pools beneath Z's shoulder, spreading across the marble like spilled wine. Oz lies motionless, his chest barely rising with each shallow breath. Their bodies, broken because of me.

"Look what you've done," Victor hisses in my ear. "All this unnecessary death. All because of you.”

Mikhail stands twenty feet away, his weapon trained on Victor. His face reveals nothing.

“You always had a flair for the dramatic, Victor,” Mikhail calls out, his voice slicing through the smoke-filled chapel. “Taking hostages, making threats. The same tired tactics for forty years.”

Victor’s arm tightens around my waist, the barrel of the gun digging harder into my temple. “And yet, here we are. You, about to lose another woman you claim to love. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”

I scan the room in a panic, searching for Luca and Alex. Through the haze and debris, I spot movement near the side entrance. Talon crouches behind an overturned pew, shielding my brother with his body while Alex lays down cover fire. Relief floods me. alive. At least, for now.

“Put down your weapon, Mikhail,” Victor demands again. “Or I swear I’ll kill her where she stands.”

My grandfather’s thin lips curve into something that might be a smile. “Go ahead.”

The chapel goes still. Even the gunfire halts, the moment hanging thick in the air as Victor stiffens behind me.

“What did you say?”

“I said, go ahead.” Mikhail’s voice is eerily calm, his focus unmoving. “Kill her. One less liability for me to manage. So long as her son is still alive, I’ll still achieve my goals.”

Ice floods my veins as the meaning of his words sinks in. My own grandfather is willing to sacrifice me and has perhaps intended this all along.

"You heartless bastard," Victor breathes, genuine shock coloring his voice. "Even I wouldn't?—"

“What? Sacrifice your family? You killed your daughter-in-law, Victor. It seems you’re not above anything. You were forcing your own son to re-marry the woman responsible for his wife’s death within hours of it happening. Is her body even cold?”

“That's different. Bianca was?—”

“A pawn. Just like Vesper. Just like your son.” Mikhail takes a deliberate step forward, his weapon never wavering. “The only difference is that I'm honest about it. I learned long ago that blood is just blood. Useful only when spilled for power.”

The gun at my temple trembles slightly as Victor processes my grandfather's betrayal. I feel his chest rise and fall against my back, his breathing accelerating with disbelief.

“She's my weapon,” Mikhail corrects him coldly. “As was her mother before her. As was her brother until he proved too weak. All a means to an end. Your end. So kill her, and when I kill you, I still get what I want.”

All this time, the promises of family, of revenge shared—nothing but manipulation to position me exactly where I stand now. My heart would shatter if I hadn't anticipated this moment. The cold calculation in Mikhail's eyes, the casual way he dismisses my life, it confirms what I've suspected since our first meeting. My grandfather never saw me as family, only as a tool to be wielded against his enemies. A disposable one at that.

“You're both the same,” I spit. “Two old men playing games with lives that aren't yours to take.”

Victor's grip falters for a fraction of a second—just enough. I drive my elbow backward with every ounce of strength I possess, catching Victor in the solar plexus just as Talon had taught me. His breath explodes from his lungs as he doubles over, the gun jerking away from my temple. I twist in his grasp, my hand already reaching beneath my skirts for the weapon strapped to my thigh.

“You think I didn't know?” I hiss, my fingers closing around the cold metal. “That I didn't see exactly what you both are?”

Mikhail's expression shifts almost imperceptibly.

“Clever girl,” he chortles. “But still just a girl playing games designed by men.”

“No,” I counter, my voice steadier than I feel. “A woman ending games that should have died with your generation.”

I wrench free from Victor’s grasp as I stumble backward. My gun is already in hand, aimed squarely at his chest. His eyes widen, not with fear, but disbelief. For a man who thrives on absolute control, it’s my rebellion that cuts deepest.

“You won't shoot me.” Victor straightens to his full height despite the pain in his abdomen. “You don't have the stomach for it.”

“I killed Mario Rossi,” I remind him, my finger steady on the trigger. “What makes you think you're different?”