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In that moment, I thought of Vincent's touch—how he'd traced my scars with reverence instead of disgust, how he'd shown me I could be loved despite everything I'd done, everything that had been done to me. How he'd given me the strength to finally break free.

I became the eagle. I reclaimed my name.

My entire body shook violently. Adrenaline, trauma, and rage poured through me in waves that threatened to tear me apart.

I wasn't even conscious of the sounds tearing from my throat.

Not quite screams, not quite sobs, but something primal that came from the deepest part of me.

The part that had been silenced for twenty-six years.

"Luka." Ana's voice penetrated the red haze of my fury. "Luka, stop. He's gone."

My arm froze mid-strike, the blade hovering above Lincoln's ruined chest. I stared down at what remained of the man who had shaped my entire existence. His face was slack now, eyes open but unseeing, mouth frozen in that final expression of disbelief .

The knife slipped from my blood-slicked fingers, clattering against the marble floor. The storm outside had quieted. In the sudden silence, my ragged breathing sounded obscenely loud.

I stared down at Lincoln's body, feeling neither triumph nor satisfaction, just a hollow emptiness where years of hatred had burned. The monster who had haunted my nightmares lay dead beneath me, nothing more than a man after all.

Ana dropped to her knees beside me, the gun clattering to the floor from her numb fingers. "I killed him," she whispered, shock evident in her voice. "I actually shot him."

"You saved me," I corrected, my voice raw and unfamiliar to my own ears.

Her eyes met mine, filled with confusion and dawning recognition. "You're really my brother, aren't you?"

I nodded, unable to form words past the knot in my throat. So many years of searching, of mourning, of whispering apologies into the darkness. And here she was, finally recognizing me.

"I remember you," she said, her accent shifting subtly as she spoke, becoming more like my own. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Luka?"

“I’m here, Ana. It’s me.” I took her hand, twining my bloodstained fingers with hers. She collapsed forward, sobbing, and I held her.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime that seemed bizarrely ordinary given the carnage around us. I moved instinctively, placing myself between Ana and whatever threat approached.

Rhadamanthys stepped into the penthouse alone, his revolver drawn and pointed at the floor. He paused, taking in the scene with a frown. "Luka, what have you done?"

I looked down at Prometheus’ cooling body. “Finished it.”

Rhadamanthys approached slowly, spurs quiet against the marble.

“There are no crowns on the Styx. Only debts to be paid. Un soldo, un passaggio. ” His eyes fell on me.

“But justice is a two-way street, amico. Ferrymen, too must pay their toll.” He straightened his jacket and turned to me.

"Luka Aleksandar, by order of the Tribunal, I am placing you under arrest for the unsanctioned execution of a director of the Pantheon. "

"He kidnapped us," Ana protested, stepping forward despite my attempt to shield her. "He separated us as children. He lied to me my entire life. He turned my brother into a weapon and me into—" Her voice broke.

Rhadamanthys held up a hand, silencing her. "The charges are clear. The law is absolute. The punishment for killing a Director without sanction is execution."

"Then why not just kill me now?" I demanded. "Why the formality?"

"Because justice is not merely vengeance, Luka. It requires... procedure." He glanced between Ana and me. "The Tribunal will convene in three days to hear evidence and render judgment."

"Evidence?" Ana asked.

"If evidence can be presented that Lincoln Mercer violated the sacred codes of the Pantheon, the circumstances of his death might be... reevaluated." His gaze settled on me, something almost hopeful beneath his professional demeanor. "However, without such evidence, the law is clear."

He removed a pair of restraints from inside his jacket. I tensed, ready to fight despite the futility. Ana gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please, Luka. Don't make him kill you."

The fight drained from me. I couldn't leave her alone again, not after just finding her. I allowed Rhadamanthys to bind my wrists, his movements efficient but not unkind .

"And her?" I asked, nodding toward Ana as he secured the restraints.

"Anastasia Mercer will be held as a material witness," Rhadamanthys replied. "Her testimony may prove... significant."

"And Vincent?" The name caught in my throat. Vincent, who would be waiting for me at the Acropolis. Vincent, who didn't even know what had happened here tonight. Vincent, who I'd abandoned after promising I'd return.

Last night flashed through my mind—his body pressed against mine, his heartbeat steady and strong, his hands gentle as they traced patterns on my skin.

The way he'd looked at me in the Bosnian restaurant, eyes shining with something deeper than desire as I shared pieces of myself I'd never shown anyone else.

Rhadamanthys's expression softened fractionally. "Dr. Matthews will be informed of your... unavailability."

"Tell him I love him. Tell him I'm sorry I broke my promise. Tell him..." I swallowed hard, memories of Vincent overwhelming me—his laugh, his touch, the safety I'd found in his arms. "Tell him he saved me. That he was right about the boy from Bosnia. That boy survived because of him."

As Rhadamanthys led me toward the elevator, Ana called out, her voice small but determined, "I'll find proof. I'll save you this time."

I glanced back at her, memorizing her face—a face so like my own, yet softer, unmarked by the years of violence that had shaped me. My sister. My twin. The half of me I'd thought lost forever.

Three days , I thought as the elevator descended. Three days until the Tribunal decided my fate.

My mind turned to Vincent again. Would he understand why I'd gone alone?

Would he forgive me for breaking my promise to return?

In our last night together, I'd tried to show him everything I couldn't say—my love, my gratitude, my regret for what might come.

I'd held him close, memorizing every line of his face, every curve of his body, storing them away like treasures against the darkness I knew awaited me.

Even as Rhadamanthys escorted me to his waiting vehicle, even as the doors closed and locked, sealing my fate, I felt a strange peace beneath the hollow grief. The eagle had devoured the titan. The cycle was broken.

And as for Vincent... I could only hope he would understand.