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The sound of his voice hit me like a gut punch.

My throat constricted, ice bands tightening around my chest until I could barely breathe.

Something electric and terrible raced up my spine, my body remembering what my mind desperately wanted to forget.

My finger on the trigger began to tremble, not with fear but with a violent collision of instincts. Attack, run, freeze, submit .

Twenty-six years of nightmares crystallized in that moment.

The voice that had shaped me, molded me, broken me.

The voice that had whispered in Milan's darkness.

My muscles locked in place even as my mind screamed to move, to act, to end this now.

Sweat broke out across my skin despite the chill, a primal response to a predator my body recognized before my conscious mind could process.

Lightning split the sky behind him, illuminating his figure for a breathless moment. Rain spattered against the marble balcony, but somehow not a drop seemed to touch him.

"Did you know," he continued, still watching the storm, "that in the original myth, Prometheus wasn't just punished for stealing fire? He was punished for giving humans the capacity for civilization. For elevating them above their station."

He turned then, slowly, his perfect face calm despite the elements raging behind him. clasped behind his back, relaxed, confident.

His face sent a shock wave through my system.

My vision tunneled, the room's edges blurring as adrenaline flooded my veins.

Bile rose in my throat, acidic and bitter.

My heart slammed against my ribs, threatening to punch through bone and muscle.

The gun suddenly weighed a thousand pounds in my hand, my arm trembling from the effort to keep it raised.

Yet beneath rage and terror, something else rolled through me, sickening and familiar.

My spine straightened automatically. My chin lifted without permission.

My breathing slowed to match his measured cadence.

The conditioning ran so deep it had rewired my fucking nervous system.

I hated myself for the response even as my body betrayed me.

"Zeus chained him to that rock for his hubris," Prometheus said, stepping into the room.

"And sent an eagle to tear out his liver each day, only to have it grow back each night so his torment could begin anew with the dawn.

An interesting detail, don't you think? That the punishment wasn't death, but transformation.

Pain as a catalyst for something... greater. "

A sound escaped me. Not quite a word, not quite a growl.

Something primal and wounded that had been locked inside me since I was six years old.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, using the pain to ground myself, to fight back against the dissociation threatening to pull me away from this moment I'd waited twenty-six years for.

I forced myself to see him for what he truly was. Not a god, not the mythical figure who had dominated my nightmares, but a man. A monster in human skin, but human nonetheless. Breakable. Killable.

"I expected you sooner," he said, calmly walking to a small bar cart near the window.

"After our little dinner at the Serbian restaurant, I thought you might come straight here.

" He poured amber liquid into a crystal tumbler.

"But then, you always were sentimental. I assume you wanted one last night with your therapist before our. .. reunion."

Ice flooded my veins. He'd been watching us.

"Even at the Acropolis, there are those loyal to me. I know about your touching visit to the sanctuary, too." He sipped his drink, eyes never leaving mine. "Did you tell him about Milan during your heartfelt confessions? About our little vacation together?"

My finger tightened on the trigger, rage burning through my veins. "Shut up."

"Now, now," he chided, as if speaking to a child. "Is that any way to speak to your creator?"

"You didn't create me," I spat. "You warped me. You stole me."

"I saved you," he corrected. "I found you in the rubble of that village, covered in blood, clutching that pathetic little homemade knife. I took you from ashes and made you into something magnificent. "

"You took a traumatized child and turned him into a killer," I said, voice steadier now. The gun steadied in my grip. "You didn't save me. You enslaved me."

As the words left my mouth, a strange pressure built at the base of my skull—my conditioning fighting back against this defiance.

My tongue felt thick suddenly, throat muscles constricting as if invisible hands were choking me for daring to speak to him this way.

My free hand twitched violently at my side, wanting to slap myself for the disrespect, to physically punish my own insubordination.

I bit down hard on my cheek until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, using that sharp pain to override the programming.

He laughed, the sound ricocheting off marble and glass, drilling into my skull. "And yet here you are, proving my point. The perfect weapon, designed for one purpose." His eyes flicked to the gun. "To kill."

"I'm here for Ana," I said. "To take her home."

His expression changed then, something dark and possessive flickering across his face. "Ana is home. This is her home now. With me. Her husband."

"You brainwashed her," I snarled. "You stole her memories, her identity."

"I gave her peace," he countered. "While you were out collecting pennies, becoming the monster you claim to hate, I was giving your sister a life of luxury, of purpose. She has everything she could ever want."

"Except the truth."

"The truth?" Prometheus laughed again, cold and cruel. "The truth is, Luka, that you're just like me. We're cut from the same cloth, you and I. Why do you think I chose you? Why, out of all the orphans in Bosnia, did I pick you? "

I said nothing, the gun still trained on his heart.

"Because I recognized myself in you. That same hunger, that same capacity for calculated violence." He set his glass down, spreading his arms wide. "Look at you now. Ready to kill again. Ready to add one more penny to your collection."

"This isn't a contract," I said. "This is justice."

"Justice?" He smiled. "Is that what Vincent told you? That killing me would somehow absolve you of your sins? Wash the blood from your hands?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Such naivety. From him, it's understandable. From you..."

"Leave him out of this," I growled.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. You see, his contract remains open.

And if not you, then someone else will collect that penny.

" He stepped closer, seemingly unconcerned about the gun aimed at his chest. "But I'm offering you a choice, Luka.

Come back to me. Submit to reconditioning.

And I'll cancel the contract on Dr. Matthews. "

My finger tightened on the trigger. "You're lying."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But can you take that chance? Are you willing to bet his life on it?" His voice dropped lower, hypnotic in its intensity. "You know what happens to assets who break their contracts. The Tribunal has rules, Luka. Rules even I can't break."

The mention of the Tribunal sent ice through my veins. Tartarus awaited rogue assets. A fate worse than death.

"Vincent will never be safe," Prometheus continued, pressing his advantage. "Not as long as you're with him. Your very presence endangers him. How many more innocents need to die? How many more Michaels?"

Michael. Vincent's patient. The grief on Vincent's face when he'd seen the photo of his body. The raw pain in his eyes at the funeral .

Prometheus turned his back to me, walking calmly to the bar despite the gun trained on him. His confidence infuriated me. He poured another drink, swirling the amber liquid thoughtfully.

"You know, I had such plans for you," he said, staring into his glass. "I was grooming you to take over North America."

I blinked, momentarily thrown. "What?"

"Zeus is coming for me," he said simply, a flash of genuine fear crossing his face before he masked it. "One by one, he's eliminating anyone who questions him."

My mind raced. Zeus was real? Not just a bogeyman story to keep directors in line?

"Zeus had me arrange Apollo's disappearance in January," Prometheus continued, knocking back his drink. His hand trembled slightly as he set the glass down. "I've been consolidating power, preparing for when he comes for me next."

The pieces clicked into place. My contract on Vincent. The sudden urgency. The loyalty test.

"You were supposed to be my most loyal," Prometheus said, voice hardening. "My weapon against Zeus himself. Once I succeeded, North America would have been yours." His laugh held no humor. "Instead, you betrayed me for a therapist."

"So that's what this is about," I said, understanding dawning. "Not just a loyalty test. You were preparing for war against Zeus, and you needed to know if I'd stand with you."

"You were my contingency plan," he admitted. "My insurance policy. The one assassin who could potentially reach Zeus." His eyes locked with mine. "You still could be."

A cold smile spread across my face. "Nice try. But we both know you'd never share power. The moment Zeus was gone, you'd put a bullet in my head. "

"Think about it, Luka," he pressed, desperation bleeding through. "Zeus is worse than I ever was. At least I gave you purpose. He would burn everything to the ground."

"And Ana?" I demanded. "Where does she fit into this power struggle?"

Something dark passed across his face. "Insurance of a different kind. Insurance to keep you in line, to ensure your loyalty. I've always known your greatest weakness, Luka. It's why I kept her all these years."

Red flooded my vision. "You kept my sister as a hostage for twenty-six years? To control me?"