Faith

part four

Alex's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white, the tension seething beneath the surface. Every word his father spoke felt like a blade, cutting deeper into whatever shred of hope still lingered inside him. Victor's eyes gleamed with sinister delight, relishing the control he held.

"You really thought I didn't know about Leon?" Victor's laugh was sharp, mocking. "You never learn, do you, Alex? I'm always one step ahead."

The truth slammed into Alex like a hammer. Of course his father knew. Of course Victor had orchestrated every move, watched every secret unfold as if it were all part of his twisted game. Alex's breath hitched in his throat, fighting the urge to lash out, to break free from the invisible chains binding him to this life.

"It wasn't hard to guess what Leon would ask of you. That man's been obsessed with avenging his daughter for years, ever since he crawled out of that wreck I left him in." Victor's voice turned cold, calculated. "But what I couldn't predict was whether you would actually do it." His eyes narrowed, and then that smirk deepened. "But you did."

Victor stood, walking toward Alex slowly, each step deliberate. "You killed him, just like the son I always wanted," he sneered, his voice a dark blend of mockery and triumph. The words wrapped around Alex like chains, tightening, choking the last bits of his resistance.

The air felt thick, like he couldn't breathe, couldn't move. The reality of what he had done, what he had become, crushed him. All those years clinging to his moral code, to that one rule that separated him from becoming his father, were shattered in a single moment.

Victor circled him now, like a predator savoring his prey, his voice oozing venom. "You've tried so hard to avoid it, haven't you? All those years of carefully shooting just to wound, never to kill." He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. "But today, you crossed the line. Today, you're truly my son."

Alex's heart felt like it was being ripped apart. His entire being wanted to reject those words, but the truth was undeniable. He had crossed that line. He had become exactly what Victor had always wanted-a killer molded by the hands of his father.

"And for your information," Victor continued, his voice light, almost conversational now, "the Hungry Dogs won't be coming after me. Oh no, they know better. Revenge is specific in their world, and now, you just made your first personal enemy." He leaned in closer, whispering with that same dark delight. "I'm proud of you, son."

The words echoed in Alex's head, rattling his very soul. Proud. He had never wanted his father's pride, never sought his approval. And now, standing there, everything he had feared and fought against had come crashing down in a single, devastating moment.

Tya stood on her balcony, the soft glow of the moon casting a silvery hue over her pale skin. She was a figure of striking darkness, her long black hair cascading down her back, sharp eyes scanning the quiet streets below. A cigarette dangled loosely between her fingers, the smoke curling upward, dancing in the cool night air. In her other hand, her phone remained pressed against her ear, the screen lit up with Alex's name, though she had called him at least ten times already. No answer.

Her lips curled slightly in frustration, though her face remained impassive. Victor's sudden return had set her nerves on edge-something wasn't right, and the fact that Alex hadn't responded only deepened the tension thrumming inside her.

The darkness suited her, enveloping her like an embrace. She was always dressed in black, her signature leather jackets and long boots accentuating the cold, deadly beauty she carried effortlessly. She was an icon of the night, of danger, and she knew it. Tya didn't just wear darkness; she owned it, lived it. It reflected everything she was-ruthless, calculating, with a heart that had long since hardened to the world around her.