As you were so active and interactive last chapter I decided to update 3 days earlier.
Thank you for the comments and please keep up with them so I keep spoiling you.
Take and give 🤣
Love ya ❤️
Marco's pov
Upon receiving the signal, we swiftly armed ourselves, and headed to the Catalyst's warehouse.
The time for revenge has arrived and we'll rescue Peter and Luke.
We took control of the west side of the warehouse after four fierce gunfights that left enemies strewn across the floor.
As we navigated through the labyrinthine structure, a familiar voice cut through the mayhem. "Cole!" My name reverberated, and my gaze instinctively sought the source.
There, stood Peter.
His expression held a complexity of emotions, a mixture of longing and something indescribable.
The natural instinct to call his name and embrace him collided with a surge of skepticism.
Why wasn't he running towards me? Was this truly my brother?
My men, conditioned by war, poised their weapons, but Pedro's voice urged them to stop.
Yet, a nagging doubt lingered, and my grip tightened on the gun.
What if this was a malevolent ruse, a cruel twist?
My gaze met Peter's, with a stoic resolve and eyes as cold as the night, I raised my gun.
The barrel pointed unwaveringly at him, a symbol of the harsh reality that, in this merciless dance of shadows, distinguishing between kin and impostor was a perilous gamble.
Tears welled in his blue eyes and memories of a painful past flashed; the times I tortured him and he had nothing to do but to cry and there was the only time I aimed my gun towards him with the intention of ending his life he shot me with the same vulnerable teary eyes.
No, Cole, focus. Don't lose control.
What if it's him?
I couldn't reconcile being the vigilant commander cautioning my men against deception while potentially falling victim to it myself. The weight of responsibility pressed on me.
What if it truly is him, and my hesitation leads to an irreversible tragedy? The mere thought of becoming my own brother's unwitting executioner sent shivers down my spine.
I wished for Sofia to be here or a voice to interject, to affirm that this was indeed my brother.
Despite the semblance, this person before me was not Peter. His eyes lacked that unique sparkle.
With a heart torn between hope and suspicion, my hands trembled while aiming at him.
I made the calculated decision to shoot. The safer option emerged - not a fatal shot but a deliberate aim to scratch.
No machine could replicate the raw, genuine emotions. The plea, the vulnerability - it seemed authentic.
The fear of harming my own flesh and blood gripped me, rendering the decision to shoot an agonizing choice.
What if this was him? He would feel hurt and it would maybe damage our brotherhood.
I don't have an option, I can't risk saving the real Peter, My Peter, by believing this one.
