When the time came for something so longly yearned for, it felt unreal to have it come to fruition.

    Planning revenge took ages. Countless days determining the right ways to strike, finding the right people, the right resources, the right way to bleed the enemy dry. To take an emotion more unbridled and callous than hatred—recognize it, harness it, and exploit it.

Until a game of Russian Roulette became more like Chess.

    Celine may have suffered a few losses in her path to revenge—the death of Freddie Lounds, the articles proving her true nature, the hiccup of getting everyone here at last—but in the end, she still had the upper hand.

    All this time waiting her out, running, and plotting, and Dark and Wilford still ended up in her favor.

    They both knew that Celine had influence, but even with power came weakness. Dark certainly knew his limits. He wouldn't be able to stand up to her and Blank with petty talk, or negotiating, or even violence. Unlike with his business, certain tactics only worked on certain people. Here, now, even when this all started, his abilities had been useless.

    This wasn't his world.

    Which surprised him when he saw Wilford so banged up, his body thrown against the concrete like nothing. He caught himself on his hands and knees, but Agent Rios clocked him in the head with her heel, sending him down with a wince.

    "Shit," he cursed, forehead scraping concrete. He was in worse shape than Dark. His shoulder gushed blood, and his thigh was soaked red. Sweat rolled down his nose as he heaved for breath, fingers digging into the concrete.

    Panic flared through Dark, senses taking in the sight of him. It took a moment for his vision to focus, the pain and the blood getting to him.

    What happened to him?

    Then fury choked his throat, his fingers digging into his knees. He suppressed a wince at the pain flaring up his wounded leg.

    Who hurt him?

    Celine calmly inhaled and stepped forward, eyes flicking up to Rios. The city lights illuminated her face, catching the delight in her eyes. Now, more than ever, she glowed with a radiant, sadistic shine.

"Is Nelson dead?" she exhaled.

    Rios hadn't checked to be sure, but she didn't hesitate to answer. Her confidence made Mark stir on the sidelines, his mouth going dry.

    "Yes," she said.

    "Good," said Celine, smoothing a hand over the gun in her grip. The metal glinted under the half-light. "Leave us."

    Agent Rios swept a look over the rooftop and nodded, disappearing behind the steel door. When it clanged shut, the sound rang around them with finality.

    Wilford took in their surroundings with frayed senses. There was Celine, standing feet before them, a black dress dripping down her figure. There was Mark on the sidelines, who cowered against a concrete block, his eyes shifting and wide. There was Dark on the floor, clutching his knee, blood spilling through his hands—and behind his head, a gun settled in his hair, held by Blank.

    Fury flared through Wil at the sight of Dark injured, and he whirled on Celine, baring his teeth.

    "I can enjoy fighting dirty," he spat. "But this is too far, Celine."

    "Too far?" echoed Celine, brows furled in mock remorse. "What a shame. You're making me start to pity you, Warfstache."

He scoffed aloud at her remark, and she simply sent him an imploring look.

"You used to be great," she said smoothly. "The kind of leader people feared; the kind of leader the mafia didn't even know it needed until you came along." She shrugged to herself. "The kind of leader that, before all this, even I would've looked up to."

    Her eyes swept onto Dark's figure, her face morphing with disgust. "But then he came along... and just like he did with me, Wilford, he's brought you to ruin, too. The world knows you've gotten weak. Your throne is looking vacant." She rose a brow. "Someone's going to take your place."

    Wilford ghosted a hand up his leg, fingers lingering at the knife tucked behind his belt. Blank's eyes flicked onto his movement.

    "Sure, maybe I have gotten a bit soft," he slurred. "But if anything, Dark's given me more purpose to all this madness."

    His hand wrapped around the knife handle.

    "Please," said Celine, eyes half-lidded. "Had you not met him, you wouldn't even be in this mess." She glanced past Wilford's head a moment before holding his gaze carefully, allowing herself a coy smile. "And, I should add—" Her gaze sharpened. "—if you were smart enough, you wouldn't have allowed this to happen in the first place."

    Wilford narrowed his eyes at her, slowly sliding out the knife from his belt. Celine only smiled, and Blank cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence. The mafia boss glanced back and found the gun—once pointed at Dark—now aimed square at him. He bared his teeth, turning back to Celine. Her smile only widened.

    "You know, I expected you to kill him," she said, pacing carefully; tracing the paths of the rooftop like a predator marking its territory. "The old Warfstache would have. He would've made a game out of it."

    Wilford glared at her. Through the corner of his eye, Dark shifted and winced, sending a flare of protectiveness through him. His hand curled around the knife again, but the click of Blank's footstep made him slowly lower it.

    "But this," said Celine, sweeping her hand towards the two. "This is even better. Pathetic, yes—but better."

    "All of this is a misunderstanding," Dark managed out, clutching his leg with bloody fingers. Wilford's eyes locked onto him; Mark watched him from afar, hands shaking around the knife at his back. He hadn't heard his voice in so long.

    "I'm not an idiot, Mr. Edwards," said Celine, sending him a flat look. "I know what you did with my husband. I know how you twisted him around your finger. You men and your egos... even found guilty, you still try to plead innocent."

    "I didn't even know he was married to you at the time," stressed Dark, voice full of earnest. "I'm telling you the truth when I say I barely even saw the man. We—did things, yes, and I—" He wavered on the words. "—loved him, at a point, but—"

    Celine laughed in disbelief. "God, you are ridiculous! Loved? I've seen the photos, Dark... heard all the stories... caught my husband red-handed countless times. But you... you're the only one he tried to keep secret."

    "He made me believe I was his partner," said Dark, eyes boring through hers. His voice shook at the edges—whether it was the adrenaline or having to relive the memories, he didn't know. He could feel Wilford's eyes on him. "I knew he had his flings, did his things to get higher up the ranks—I mean, why do you think he started getting close to me? In the end—" His heart ached. Or maybe his body was losing too much blood. "—in the end, I was nothing but a step stool for his own success."

    Celine huffed through her nose and smiled, shaking her head to herself. "It's amazing what you can come up with," she said, and fury lit up Dark's insides.

    "He used me!" Dark yelled, voice amplified on the rooftop. The volume made Mark flinch. All this time, and he was finally hearing about Dark's past; and it was in life or death. He gulped and glanced at Blank, finding his eyes on him. "He convinced me he loved me, but deep down, I knew everytime we met, it was just a part of his agenda to get more fame. I was nothing to him. You can't believe that? You can't believe that he tricked me for his own gain?"

    Celine considered him for a moment, finding his outburst distasteful.

    "I could believe it," said Celine, and for a second, Dark thought he'd actually gotten through to her. But then she holstered her gun and started walking towards Mark.

"Actor was capable of many things," she said, eyes still on Dark. "But I know how it is with men like you."

Mark swallowed a gasp as the knife freed the rope around his wrists. He held onto the handle for dear life, heart pounding faster the closer Celine got to him. Blank's eyes would not leave him.

"All these excuses," said Celine, and Dark's chest tightened with both heartbreak and fury, "and really, in the end—you just don't want to admit your only priority is to get your cock wet."

"You're not listening to me—"

"I don't have to listen," said Celine, eyes finally panning to Mark. She smiled at him and grabbed his collar, yanking him up to his feet. "I've already made up my mind."

Mark's feet scuffed the ground as Celine dragged him away from the block, towards the edge of the roof.

Dark's heart shot in his throat.

"I've imagined this day for a long time, Mr. Edwards," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "All I want, after all these years," she breathed, "is to watch you suffer."

Celine held Mark over the edge of the roof, and he screamed, the only thing keeping him alive being Celine's hand holding his shirt. His first instinct was to grab onto her for purchase, but he remembered the knife—kept it behind his back tight.

"No, STOP!" yelled Dark, struggling to rise. Blank kicked him back down. "Don't you dare hurt him!"

"Oh, I won't hurt him," cooed Celine, eyes alight. She shoved him closer off the edge, his feet scuffing the floor. The city streets wavered thousands of feet beneath Mark, and he struggled to keep his hands behind his back, gaging the right time to use the knife.

"The fall will."

———

Amy sank to the floor of the elevator, clutching her chest. Fuck, it still hurt. She still couldn't believe Agent Rios shot her. And worse—by the sound of it—working for Celine.

    Amy caught her breath as she clutched her gun tight, pain radiating across her chest. Detective Abe used to make fun of her for wearing a bullet-proof vest in her noobie days. Now, the precaution saved her life. If Abe were here, she would have made a joke despite their circumstances.

    But he wasn't here.

    Amy took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. Abe's last words rang in her head:

    "Solve this."

    She swallowed hard.

    "I'm proud of you."

    Well, she wouldn't be proud of herself until she put an end to what Detective Abe had started. She wasn't just doing this for the safety of the city, or to save the others' lives. She was doing this for Abe. To keep him proud. To honor his legacy.

    Amy picked up her com—shifted it in her grip a moment—and pressed her mouth against it. "Main units," she panted, hoping to god Rios wouldn't hear. "Report to the roof. Hostages inbound. Code red."

    "On our way," came a flurry of replies.

    "Keep a team on the ground," she ordered, baring her teeth through a wince. "We need medical. And a safety net. ASAP."

    "Copy."

    The elevator slowed, and Amy rose to her feet, breathing hard. She sprinted into action the moment the doors slid open. Through the hall, up the stairs, to the steel door that led to the roof.

    She heard shouting. Pleas. And then—

    A scream. Mark's scream.

Amy grabbed the door handle—counted one, two, three—and threw open the door with her gun raised.

———

"EVERYBODY FREEZE!" yelled Amy as a distraction.

Celine's head snapped towards the door, her grip tightening in Mark's shirt. Dark and Wilford turned towards her, and Blank raised his gun.

"You're supposed to be dead," said Celine, giving Mark a warning shove. He shouted, and Amy's heart shot in her throat. One wrong move, and he was dead.

"Well, I'm not," she said, swinging her gun on Blank.

But he wasn't aimed at her. Wasn't looking at her.

Amy's brows furrowed, and she followed his line of sight, finding Mark's eyes full of terror.

Dread sank in her stomach.

"Celine..." she said carefully, moving across the roof. "We can be civil about this..." She raised her hands, letting the gun hang in her fingers. "Let him go."

Celine smiled, and she glanced at Dark, meeting his eyes. She loved the look on his face—such horror in those eyes as every fiber in his body begged to save his precious bodyguard. Satisfaction thrilled down her spine.

"Alright, Agent Nelson," said Celine, loosening her grip in Mark's collar. She loved the way Dark's face paled. "I'll let him go."

Celine gave Mark a tug, and he yelled, foot sliding off the edge. She yanked him back up before he could fall.

"I'll shoot!" warned Amy, swinging her gun up.

Celine's face softened with a sly smirk. Her eyes were still on Nelson, unaware of Mark finding firmer footing before he used the knife in his hands.

Mark dropped his hands, flashing the knife.

Wilford noticed the weapon—found an opportunity.

"You shoot me," said Celine, "and Mark and I both die." She tipped her head at Blank. "And don't forget him."

Blank walked forward and pressed his gun against the side of Amy's head. She stiffened, and she glanced at him through the corner of her eyes, finding his determined gaze. He leaned in, turned his head a fraction away from Celine, and spoke softly.

"As soon as I shoot, take Mark to the stairwell," he breathed. "Stay there until backup comes."

An incredulous look spread across her face. Celine took it as horror at the options before her and smiled.

"It's a shame you couldn't join me, Agent Nelson," said Celine airily.

Wilford clutched Dark's hand with bloody fingers and glanced at him, catching his eyes.

"Follow after me," he whispered

Celine's face dropped and went cold. "But now you're in my way."

Dark squeezed Wil's hand. "No," he breathed. "You've done enough."

Celine tipped her head at Amy. Blank shifted his gun just an inch to the side, the gesture unnoticed. "Kill her, Blank."

Mark positioned the knife, shaking from the adrenaline. The city swayed beneath him, and he forced himself to breathe and focus on getting himself out of this. Survive, and help Dark. Survive, and end all of this.

Wilford slid out his own knife, face stern. Dark opened his mouth to protest, but he had already made up his mind. There was no way in hell he'd let Dark go at this alone.

"We end this together," he said.

Blank gave a slow, steady nod, but his eyes weren't pinned on Amy, or Celine. They were pinned on Mark. Dead eyes meeting terrified ones, giving the cue to attack.

Celine noticed the shift too late.

The gunshot exploded with noise, and chaos broke out.

Amy ducked and sprinted forward. Celine cursed—was about to throw Mark off the roof when his foot caught the inside ledge and he pushed himself forward, driving the knife through her stomach.

She cried out, and Mark broke away from her, collapsing into Amy's arms. Nelson started dragging them towards the exit.

"You bastard!" Celine shouted, hands clutching the handle in her gut. Her eyes whirled up, landing on Wilford running towards her, knife brandished.

She growled and tore her gun out of her holster, aiming it at him. Wilford threw his knife at her. The blade cut into her arm, sending her gun skidding across the concrete.

Dark followed behind Wil, the adrenaline erasing the pain in his leg. Together, they lunged for Celine as she dashed aside, reaching for her gun. Wilford caught her leg and dragged her back, sending her to the floor.

"Get the gun!" yelled Wilford.

Dark snatched it from the floor and shakily aimed it at Celine, struggling with the proper grip Wil had shown him. Mark's shouting protests echoed behind him, followed by Amy's arguing.

"Shoot her!" yelled Wilford, wrestling her onto the ground. His hands wrapped around her throat, weight keeping her down.

Dark's vision closed in, the sights on the gun blurring. He stared at Celine, who fought with all her strength. Felt wrong bleed through him. Freeze him in place.

"You're not going to do it," called out Blank from behind him. Dark glanced over his shoulder and found him on his knees, allowing Agent Nelson to cuff him. "Are you?"

Wilford stared up at Dark, eyes wild. "What are you, CRAZY?!" he yelled. "Kill her!"

'I don't want to kill anyone,' rang his words in his head, louder now.

"Let me help!" yelled Mark, shoving past Nelson. She yanked him back.

"This is their fight," she hissed.

Dark tightened his grip on the gun, feeling sick as his finger tightened over the trigger. Do it.

"Don't do it!" yelled Mark.

Celine breathed hard, meeting his eyes. Dark's hesitation was her salvation.

Do it.

She smiled at him, hands diving down.

"How does it feel?" she breathed, choking when Wilford tightened his hands around her throat. "To lose someone you love?"

DO IT.

Celine dislodged the knife and stabbed Wilford. Dark pulled the trigger just as she shoved Wilford's body upwards, shielding her.

It happened too fast.

Celine threw Wil off her, but before Dark could even process what happened, she tackled him to the floor, sending the gun skidding again.

"Watch him," spat Celine, striking him across the face. His vision crowded. "Watch him bleed, Dark."

Wilford's gasp tore through his senses, and he glanced over, horror numbing him. There was so much blood—he couldn't tell where he'd been shot.

"No—"

No, no, no.

Celine raised the knife, and Dark shoved her off, running towards Wilford. He fell to his knees beside him, rolling his body over to see his face. Blood—so much blood.

"Wil—" he panted, tapping the side of his face. "Wilford—"

"This is all your fault," said Celine, limping towards the gun. She winced as she picked it up, the metal heavier now. "If you'd have kept yourself in check, he wouldn't be dead."

"He's not dead."

Celine made her way to the edge of the roof and aimed the gun at Dark, lining his head between the sights. There. That was the sight she'd desired for so long. Dark Edwards, stripped of all he stood for, weak before her. Blood and dirt and sweat, hair strewn over those eyes swarming with pain, heartbreak, panic.

Celine cocked the gun.

The steel door burst open, and three squads of FBI flooded the rooftop, raising their guns with shouts.

"FREEZE!" they shouted.

Celine ignored them, soaking in every single twitch of Dark's face. The longer she looked, the more she detested his expression as his hands trembled over Wilford's body.

Love. These bastards seriously loved each other.

"All this time, you've done nothing but hide, Mr. Edwards," she said, keeping the gun on him. "All this time, it was you being protected. You cowering on the sidelines. You hiding behind your boyfriend to keep yourself from getting hurt."

"Put the gun down or we'll shoot!" yelled an agent.

"First, you hid your lies behind your life of privilege and wealth," she said. "Now, you hide your lies behind bodies." She stepped forward, and the shift and click of guns around them grew louder. Agent Nelson rose slowly, swallowing hard.

"Get up," ordered Celine.

Dark clutched onto Wilford's body and caught his eyes, which struggled to stay open. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell. He reached up and touched the side of Dark's face, smearing blood on his skin.

Dark's gaze flicked up to Celine's.

"I was going to propose to him," he whispered, in one last attempt to get through to her. "Markus. I wanted to have a future with him."

Celine's eyes flashed with surprise, but the emotion was short-lived. In one blinding motion, she yanked Dark to his feet and held him up by his throat, shoving the gun into his head. She got a good look at the FBI squads, now. They filled the entire rooftop, adorned in armor and menacing guns.

Time slowed.

Celine smiled, and she tugged them closer to the edge, ignoring the FBI's shouts to stay still. Wilford stirred on the floor, struggling to sit up, his blood painting the concrete.

Mark tried shoving through the agents, shouting in panic.

Amy's eyes widened, her body going into motion a minute too late.

"Say goodbye to your friends," breathed Celine in Dark's ear.

"No—" gasped Wil.

"NO—" Amy cried out, running forward.

"DARK!" screamed Mark.

Celine bashed the metal into Dark's skull and threw him aside, his feet catching the edge, body already in motion. Amy shot Celine in the shoulder, but it was too late. The force knocked her back, sending her and Dark lurching off the roof.

"FUCK!" came the screams.

Everyone ran to the edge.

"SAFETY NET—WHERE'S THE FUCKING—"

Their voices were swallowed by the wind roaring in Dark's ears. He heard Celine scream nearby, limbs flailing.

No, no, no.

The city lights became a blur around him. His body grappled with the rapid altitudes. Hundreds of feet, passing by in seconds. The rest of his life, shortened to his last breaths.

Red and blue flashed around him. Sirens warbled in his ears. And then one last voice.

"DARK!" it screamed, and Dark looked up, finding the blot of Wilford at the rooftop. He reached a hand out, but he was already too far gone, the city streets coming closer, closer, closer.

Dark's vision flitted in and out, and before he could come to terms with his plummeting death, it all went black.

...

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