He was betting on a ghost. A phantom of the meek, gentle woman he had crafted in his own mind, a woman who would flinch at the sight of an innocent in the line of fire. He didn't understand. That woman had never existed. She was an asset, a role, and her assignment was now complete.
My gaze didn't waver. I saw not a terrified woman, but a tactical problem. Siena’s body shielded seventy percent of his torso. His g*n hand was unsteady, adrenaline making his aim erratic. His head was exposed, but a kill shot was an ending, not a lesson. Justice required a more articulate sentence.
Luciano remained a statue of lethal stillness. The Praetorians didn't move. This was my theater, my judgment to dispense.
I raised the silver pistol, my arm as steady as the stone columns around us.
"You always
