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He’s your father.
Flesh and blood.
Don’t...
If only he’d had empathy.
If only he’d proven he was a good person beneath the psychotic desire for control. But the small glimpses of kindness he’d shown me didn’t equalise the sheer monstrosity in his soul.
He’d shot that girl as if she was nothing, all while pretending to care about my impotence. He knew all along I had a daughter. He tracked Neri, not because she was the mother to his grandchild, but because she was a pawn that could be used against me.
He didn’t love me.
He manipulated me.
He’s a master.
A master at this game.
A true psychopath, narcissist, and bastard.
He doesn’t care.
About anyone.
My thumb flicked off the safety. My finger feathered over the trigger. Boots came to a stop outside the door.
I have to keep her safe. Keep my wife, daughter, and family safe.
He was not my family.
He was my enemy, masquerading as kin.
Everything paused.
Everything stilled.
Almost in slow motion, men dressed in black with their faces covered and weapons raised, poured into the useless room.
Cem fired and went to push me sideways, but I hopped out of his reach. I dropped my cane. I brought the gun up with both hands. And I locked eyes with my biological father.
I looked into the nightmare that would always exist in my blood thanks to him.
I accepted the darkness that I would never be free from.
And for the longest second, Cem froze.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But I can’t let you hurt them.”
His eyes met mine with confusion and annoyance only to bleed into blinding shock. “Aslan, don’t—”
I pulled the trigger.
He never got to finish what he would have said.
I was spared from yet another twisted sermon where he made me doubt everything.
The bullet barrelled right between his eyes.
