Ben moved toward the bed like he was walking to the gallows, but his grip on the gun was steady. His steps made no sound. He stopped at William’s side and pointed the muzzle straight at his temple — the black barrel inches from the skin that had bled for her.
“We’ve been working to bring him down since the moment I lost you, Mary,” he said softly, eyes never leaving William’s unconscious face. “Don’t think I forgot about you for even a second. Every deal I made, every sacrifice… it was for this. And now we’ll finally be free.”
The word didn’t feel like freedom.
It felt like a noose.
Mary’s heart pounded. Her limbs moved before her mind could catch up — instinct overriding reason. She lunged forward, throwing herself between William and the gun, shielding him with her own body.
Her hands hit the mattress, her breath sharp. “You can’t do this.”
Ben froze. “Mary—”
“He’s helpless,” she said, her voice trembling but clear. “You want to kill him? Fine. But not like this. Not while he can’t even open his eyes.”
Ben’s jaw twitched. “Get out of the way.”
“No.”
“Mary,” he said, the warning in his tone unmistakable. “You don’t understand. He’s dangerous. He’s infected you with whatever poison he uses on the rest of this world. You’re not thinking straight—”
“I’m thinking for the first time in my life.”
That did it. His eyes changed — the wounded father replaced by something colder.
He struck her.
The metal of the gun cracked across her cheekbone, knocking her to the floor. The taste of copper bloomed in her mouth. She cried out, more from shock than pain, and clutched the side of her face, tears springing to her eyes.
“You little whore,” he spat. “You forgot who you are. Spread your legs for the wrong man and now you think that makes you loyal?”
Mary pushed herself up on shaky arms, blood trickling down her jaw. She stared at him with more fury than fear.
“If you don’t walk away,” she said, voice raw, “I’ll scream. I’ll scream so loud the entire floor hears me. And you won’t make it out.”
For a moment, Ben didn’t move. His chest rose and fell, the gun twitching slightly in his grip. Then he stepped back, slow, rage coiled behind his eyes.
“Until next time, then,” he said. “Next time, I won’t ask.”
He slipped through the door like a shadow. It clicked shut behind him.
Mary staggered to her feet, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Her chest heaved, her vision blurred, but she turned back to the bed — to the man she didn’t fully trust and couldn’t fully let go of.
And that’s when she saw it.
His eyelids. Flickering, then slowly, fluttering open. Will’s gaze met hers — groggy, unfocused, but alive.
She didn’t breathe. He blinked once. Twice.
Then, hoarse and rasping: “You’re bleeding.”
Mary sank down beside him, unable to speak, her hand brushing his.
“Not as bad as you,” she whispered.