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“Luke’s blood,” I answer.

“Good. That asshole deserves nothing less.”

Levi grins and slaps my arm. “Go home, Aniki. Get some sleep and be back at the hospital in time.”

“Come on, we’ll drive you,” Olena says, catching up.

I try to accept leaving Luke to my brother, but I can’t. My pulse spikes again. It feels like I’m walking away without finishing it. I’m almost ready to go with Olena and Nahla when I hear a cough.

Luke has regained consciousness.

“Blue…”

That single word is all it takes. “No. I have to end this myself.” I turn to Damian and hold out my hand. “Give me your gun.”

I know he’s carrying one. He never leaves the house without it. For a moment, he looks at me with that piercing gaze of his, then takes out his silver Colt with the white pearl handle from his shoulder holster and hands it to me.

It’s been years since I held a gun, but my father taught me early how to handle them. It’s part of the family business.

I stride back toward Luke.

He’s trying to wriggle out of his restraints. When he sees me and raises his head, a flicker of hope appears in his eyes.

I flick off the safety and aim at him.

A completely different Luke emerges—the one who values his own life.

“Oh my God… Koh! Please! No! You don’t want to do this, right?”

I hear the panic in his voice, but his words bounce off me. I stand there for a moment, searching his eyes for any meaning. Any explanation for everything he did to me.

There’s nothing.

“You know what, asshole?” I say coldly. “Aran is alive.”

Luke’s mouth falls open. He stares at me from his bloody, beaten face. His plan failed.

“You couldn’t take him from me. You lose.”

Then I pull the trigger and put a bullet in his head.

Without giving him another glance, I walk back to the others and hand the gun to Damian.

Nahla didn’t see it—but she’s not deaf. She stares at me in horror. Damian and my siblings look satisfied—except maybe Levi, who stares at me like I just took away his favorite toy and smashed it.

“Let’s go,” I say, heading straight for Olena’s car.

“Get some rest!” Damian calls as he and Levi head back into the warehouse.

They’ll probably call Aleks—the guy you call when a body needs to disappear.

Olena drives Nahla home first, then me. I’m not sure which home I want to go at first, but I end up letting her take me to Aran’s apartment in the West Village. That way I can bring him fresh clothes.

No one says a word the entire drive. I feel exhausted, drained.

The chaos in my head has finally gone quiet.

It’s over.