He shrugged. “Because I’m in the way. I spoke a little too loudly, a little too often, against the status quo. And because someone, somewhere, is killing off directors. I’m not the first, and I don’t suspect I will be the last.”
I stared at the coin lying between us.
Electronic samba pounded below, making the stone walls vibrate. Hundreds of people danced where generations had knelt for communion. All that joy and life and movement thrummed downstairs while up here, everything was ending.
"You knew this was coming,” I said.
"I suspected manipulation. Didn't know how deep until recently." His fingers traced the empty glass. "By then, the trap was closing. Any warning I gave would have looked like paranoia."
"So you waited to die."
"I waited to give you the truth." He leaned forward. "Rafael's coming. We were supposed to meet here tonight. He’s discovered Project Icharus and wanted answers about my connection to it. Apparently, his order within the church is hunting him. He blames you, of course."
I smirked. “Of course.”
Dionysus sighed and closed his eyes. “Will you do it before he gets here? Don’t be so cruel as to make him watch.”
“I’d never do that.” I pushed to my feet. My blade slid from its hiding place, balanced perfectly in my palm. My hand started trembling again.
He stood and adjusted his tie. "Take care of him, Lorenzo."
“Who?”
“Rafael.”
I flinched at the sound of his name for some reason.
"You're the only one who'll see him as more than a weapon,” Dionysus continued. "Give him what I never could. A choice."
The blade grew heavy in my grip.
"Promise me, Lorenzo. Whatever happens, whatever violence comes, protect him. Even from himself."
I wanted to say no, wanted to tell him this was too much, that Rafael would gut me the second he found out what I'd done. ButDionysus had never asked me for anything. He'd ordered, suggested, guided. Never asked.
"Fine. I promise."
His shoulders relaxed like I'd lifted a weight he'd been carrying for years. "Good. You're going to need each other for what's coming."
I shifted the blade in my grip.
"One last request, if you’ll indulge an old man." He moved to the stained-glass windows. "Let me spend my final moments looking at something beautiful."
I followed his gaze through the glass to where Rio spread below us. Favela lights climbed the mountainsides in chaotic beauty while the dark ocean bled into darker sky, all of it watched over by Christ the Redeemer's outstretched arms.
"Take your time," I said.
He smiled, eyes fixed on the view. "I'm proud of you, Lorenzo. You became exactly what I hoped you would."
I moved behind him. The blade hovered at the base of his skull without piercing skin. I'd killed dozens of people. Hundreds, maybe. But this was Dionysus. The man who'd saved me. The closest thing I'd ever had to a father.
Do it, I told myself.Give him the mercy of a quick death instead of whatever torture someone else had planned.He'd taught me how to kill clean, taught me that if you had to take a life, at least do it right.
But my hand refused.
"It's alright, Lorenzo," Dionysus said quietly, still watching Rio. "I'm ready."
The permission broke something in me.
