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She swallows hard, and for the first time tonight, she looks unsure.

“And what about you?”

I offer a faint smile.

“I’ll still be here. Waiting. Hoping. But not forcing.”

I hand her the gun.

She takes it slowly, eyes locked on mine.

I step back. One last look. One heartbeat longer than I should.

Then I turn and walk out—each step louder than the last.

I don’t look back.

Because loving her means surrendering the war—even if it breaks me.

39

ARIA

Istand frozen, staring at the empty doorway where Marco disappeared.

What the hell just happened?

My mind reels, trying to make sense of the last sixty seconds. He had me where he wanted me. So why the hell did he let me go?

This isn’t like Marco at all. He’s the kind of man who fights all the way. How did he give up so easily?

What game is he playing now?

My hands shake. Everything about this feels wrong.

Is this some kind of reverse psychology? Mind games. Another layer of manipulation designed to keep me off-balance, keep me guessing. Make me think he’s vulnerable when really he’s just setting up the next move.

The bastard.

My anger ignites like gasoline meeting flame. White-hot rage that burns away the confusion, the doubt, the treacherous part of me that almost believed his act.

Because that’s what it was. An act.

The defeated posture, the broken voice, the way he couldn’t look at me—all calculated. All designed to make me lower my guard, make me think he actually gives a shit about my feelings.

Well, fuck that.

And fuck him for thinking I’m stupid enough to fall for it.

The pistol he handed me still weighs heavily in my hand. His gesture was meant as surrender—maybe trust. But all I see is the same cold steel I pointed at his heart.

I check the chamber. Loaded.

Good. I want answers.

I stride through the doorway. The foyer stretches before me, silent except for the distant sounds of my retreating army. But I’m not interested inthat waranymore.

I’m interested in the truth.