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I stare at the broken figure behind the glass, searching for the monster of my nightmares in this frail shell of a man. My fingers press harder against the partition, leaving smudges on the pristine surface.

"What have you done to him?"

"Everything he deserves," Alex replies, his accent thickening with emotion. "And nothing that would release him too quickly."

He guides me to a small control panel embedded in the wall. My heart pounds against my ribs as Alex's fingers hover over the panel. "You can speak to him. Or you can administer various...treatments. The choice is yours, Luca. Always yours."

The power of this moment overwhelms me. frail, withered creature who once controlled every aspect of my existence, now completely at my mercy. A man who trafficked in children,who authorized my torture, who manipulated my sister into becoming a weapon.

"I want to go inside," I hear myself say.

Alex studies my face carefully. "Are you certain?"

I nod, unable to articulate the storm of emotions churning inside me. Alex presses a sequence of buttons, and a section of the glass wall slides open. My stomach churns, but I force myself forward, step by deliberate step, until I'm standing beside the hospital bed.

Up close, Mikhail is even more grotesque. His skin has a waxy translucence that reveals the blue-green tracery of veins beneath. The bullet wound in his abdomen has been surgically maintained, kept open but prevented from healing completely, the edges red and angry against his yellowed skin. IV lines snake into his arms, delivering just enough fluids and nutrients to keep him alive.

"Hello, Grandfather," I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.

A trembling hand lifts slightly against its restraint, fingers curling as if trying to reach for me. I step back instinctively, the movement automatic after years of conditioning.

"He can't hurt you anymore," Alex reminds me, his massive frame positioned protectively at my back. "He can't hurt anyone."

I lean closer, studying the face that has haunted my nightmares. "Do you recognize me? The grandson you threw away? The one you called weak?"

Mikhail's lips move, forming words without sound. I can read them anyway: "Luca."

"Yes," I confirm, a strange calm settling over me. "I'm still here. I survived everything you did to me."

His throat works, struggling to produce sound. After several attempts, a raspy sound escapes, "Should...have killed...you."

"Yes," I agree, surprising myself with the calm acceptance in my voice. "That was your mistake. One of many."

I move closer, studying the medical equipment surrounding him. Each machine has a purpose, monitoring vital signs, administering fluids, managing pain. Or perhaps, withholding it. Alex has been methodical, as he is in all things.

"I dreamed of this moment," I tell Mikhail, tracing a finger along the cold metal railing of his bed. "When I was in that facility, when they were cutting into me, when I was screaming for help that never came, I imagined what I would do if I ever got my hands on you."

Mikhail's eyes follow my movements, terror evident in their depths. Good. Let him know fear.

"The things I imagined. They would make even Alex uncomfortable. And he's quite creative, as you've discovered."

My grandfather's chest rises and falls in shallow, rapid breaths. The heart monitor beside him registers his increasing distress with quickening beeps.

"You're afraid," I observe, leaning closer.

His lips move again, forming words I can barely make out: "Family...blood..."

Something ugly and fierce rises in me, a tide of rage I’ve kept carefully contained for months. I straighten up, turning away from the pathetic creature on the bed. My eyes lock with Alex’s, those icy blue depths that have witnessed humanity’s worst and somehow remained steady.

"I want to end this. I want him gone."

Alex studies me, his expression unreadable. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." I step closer to him, drawn by some magnetic pull I've felt since the day he pulled me from that hellhole. "Show me how to kill him. How to make it permanent this time."

Alex moves toward me with fluid grace, closing the distance until we're standing mere inches apart. His towering frame blocks out the harsh fluorescent lights. He's so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. If I rose up on my toes, just slightly, our lips would meet.

"There are many ways," he considers. “Quick or slow. Painful or merciful. The choice is yours." His hand rises, hovering near my face without touching, always so careful with me. "What do you want, Luca? Revenge? Justice? Release?"