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I find him in the library, standing among the scattered books and broken furniture. He's alone, his weapon lowered but ready. He knew I'd come here. Of course he did.

"Why?" The word comes out rougher than I expected, carrying the weight of betrayal. "I gave you everything. Why the fuck would you do this?"

Gregory's jaw tightens, and for the first time, I see real emotion crack through his cold exterior. "Because she took my place."

"What?"

"Princess Ana." He spits her name like poison. "You brought her into your life, and suddenly, I didn't matter anymore. Suddenly, you had a wife, and then a child on the way, and where does that leave me? I was supposed to be your family. I was supposed to be enough."

The confession surprises the shit out of me. All this time, all this betrayal, because he felt replaced. Because he thought Ana's presence meant he no longer mattered.

"You stupid fucking kid." My voice shakes with fury and grief. "You never came to me. You never said a goddamn word about how you felt. You just let them poison your mind with lies."

"They didn't lie." Gregory's voice rises. "They showed me the truth. They told me what I always suspected, that I was never really family to you. Just a project. Just someone you took in because you felt guilty about my parents dying."

"That's bullshit and you know it." I take a step closer, my weapon still raised but my finger off the trigger. "Blood never made someone a Galkin. Loyalty did. Honor did. And you had both until you threw them away."

"I had nothing!" He's shouting now, years of resentment pouring out. "I had a place in your organization, sure. But I was never going to be your son. Not really. Not when you swore you'd never have children, never have a family. And then Ana came along and suddenly, all those promises meant nothing."

The pain in his voice is real, and it tears at something deep in my chest. I see him clearly now, not as the traitor who betrayed me, but as the frightened boy I took in all those years ago. The child who lost everything and spent his whole life terrified of losing the only family he had left.

"You were always my son." The words come out quiet but firm. "From the moment I took you in, you were family. I was planning to name you my successor, to have you lead the organization when I stepped down. That's why I pushed you so hard, why I taught you everything. Because I wanted you ready to take over."

Gregory's weapon wavers, confusion and disbelief crossing his face. "You never said…"

"I was waiting for the right time. Waiting until you were ready." I lower my gun slightly, though I don't holster it. "The society exploited your deepest fear, the one thing you never told me about. They made you believe you weren't enough, that you'd been replaced. And you let them."

For a moment, I think I've reached him. His expression shifts, realization dawning as he understands how thoroughly he's been manipulated.

Then masked figures emerge from the shadows, surrounding us on all sides. At least a dozen of them, weapons trained on both of us. The society's elite, I realize. The inner circle that's been orchestrating everything.

One steps forward, clearly the leader. "Enough talking. Gregory, you know what needs to be done. Kill him and prove your loyalty to us. Or die alongside him."

Gregory's weapon comes up slowly, the barrel pointing directly at my chest. His hand is steady, his finger moving to the trigger. Our eyes meet, and I see the war raging behind his gaze. Everything he believed, everything they told him, warring against the truth I just revealed. The truth he should have fucking known all along.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

Then he spins and fires directly into the masked leader's chest.

The library explodes into chaos. Gregory empties his magazine into the society members, dropping three before they can react. I'm moving before his first shot finishes echoing, my own weapon barking as I take down two more.

We fight side by side, the way I always imagined we would. The way it should have been from the beginning. Gregory moves with the precision I taught him, covering my blind spots, anticipating my movements. For these few desperate moments, he's my son again in every way that matters.

The society members fall back under our combined assault, retreating toward the exits. We're winning. We're actually fucking winning.

Then Gregory jerks suddenly, a red stain blooming across his chest. He staggers, his weapon clattering to the floor. I catch him as he falls, lowering him to the ground among the scattered books and broken furniture.

"No." The word tears from my throat. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to die on me now."

Blood soaks through his shirt, too much blood. The wound is fatal. I know it even as I press my hands against it, trying uselessly to stop the bleeding. His face is pale, his breathing shallow and labored.

"I'm sorry." His voice is barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry. I should have… I should have talked to you. Should have trusted you."

"Save your strength." But we both know it's pointless. "Help is coming."

"No." He coughs, blood flecking his lips. "Too late. But I need… I need you to know. I never stopped… never stopped loving you. Even when I hated you, I loved you. You were the only father I ever really had."

My vision blurs. I don't cry. I haven't cried since I was a child. But something hot and painful burns behind my eyes as I hold this boy, this man, whom I raised and loved and failed.