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Story: Born of Vengeance
Epilogue – The Vow Lives On
The cemetery was silent, save for the wind.
It whispered through the rows of stone and earth like it was searching for something lost, brushing against Rafael’s jacket as he stood at the edge of the grave.
The marble was simple.
Ana Silveira
1989 – 2024
Beloved wife. Forever light.
No flowers. No candles. Just stone, rain, and silence.
Rafael knelt slowly, the soreness still fresh in his ribs, the bruises not yet gone from his skin. In his hand, he held two things: a worn silver ring, and a faded dog tag on a broken chain.
He placed them gently on the headstone.
“I should’ve been there,” he said softly.
“And I’ll carry that until my last breath.”
He sat back on his heels and looked up at the sky—overcast, pale, endless. He didn’t cry. Not anymore. There was nothing left in him that could.
But something had returned.
Not peace.
Not forgiveness.
Purpose.
He reached into his coat and unfolded the final page of the notebook he’d torn from Valderrama’s safe.
Three names stared back at him.
S.P.
R.V.
K.J.
The rest had tried to hide in power.
These ones would hide in shadows.
He would find them.
And when he did, there would be no speeches. No mercy. Just justice, delivered one bullet at a time.
Rafael stood. Took one last look at the grave. Then turned and walked into the mist, the paper still clenched in his hand.
The vow hadn’t ended.
It had only just begun.
The End
The cemetery was silent, save for the wind.
It whispered through the rows of stone and earth like it was searching for something lost, brushing against Rafael’s jacket as he stood at the edge of the grave.
The marble was simple.
Ana Silveira
1989 – 2024
Beloved wife. Forever light.
No flowers. No candles. Just stone, rain, and silence.
Rafael knelt slowly, the soreness still fresh in his ribs, the bruises not yet gone from his skin. In his hand, he held two things: a worn silver ring, and a faded dog tag on a broken chain.
He placed them gently on the headstone.
“I should’ve been there,” he said softly.
“And I’ll carry that until my last breath.”
He sat back on his heels and looked up at the sky—overcast, pale, endless. He didn’t cry. Not anymore. There was nothing left in him that could.
But something had returned.
Not peace.
Not forgiveness.
Purpose.
He reached into his coat and unfolded the final page of the notebook he’d torn from Valderrama’s safe.
Three names stared back at him.
S.P.
R.V.
K.J.
The rest had tried to hide in power.
These ones would hide in shadows.
He would find them.
And when he did, there would be no speeches. No mercy. Just justice, delivered one bullet at a time.
Rafael stood. Took one last look at the grave. Then turned and walked into the mist, the paper still clenched in his hand.
The vow hadn’t ended.
It had only just begun.
The End