Chapter Forty-Two
Bianca
Tank's eyes pierce through the chaos, finding mine from where he kneels among the wreckage on the stage. His face is a map of violence — a line of blood drips steadily from his jaw, a spreading splash of bruises blooms darkly along his temple, and his shirt is mottled with gore, some his and some from my brother’s men. His voice is hoarse but steady, each word laden with meaning: “I surrender.” A breath, and then he demands, “But you need to let her go. Let her and Vanessa go. They deserve better than this.”
Victor grins, wide and merciless, like some triumphant demon inhaling the heat of hell. “How touching. I think it’s time we wrap this little drama up.” He slides the gun away from its place at my temple and aims it with finality at Tank. “Say goodnight, you fucking pissant baker.”
And then Tank turns, his eyes locking on mine with a fierceness that makes the world go silent. “I love you, Bianca.”
My heart splits open, a fragile thing in a brutal world. I was wrong about him, so wrong. To think this man — this brutal killer — would so willingly submit himself to death just for the chance to save my life brings a flood of tears to my eyes. “I love you, too.”
Victor’s laughter cracks like a whip. “Isn’t that sweet? Too bad it’s the last thing you’ll ever say. Is that really how you want to die? Mewling about your love like some fucking pussy?”
Panic gallops in my chest. I struggle to move, to act, to save him. My body strains against Victor’s vise-like grip. But his arm is a bar of iron, crushing against my ribs, holding me immobile.
And Tank… Tank kneels there, bloodied but unbroken, a monument to endurance and sacrifice. He waits, still and resolute, every inch the man I love. He is everything.
And I realize I can’t watch him die.
I can’t do it.
I can’t watch the man I love be executed like this.
With every ounce of will I have left, I clamp my eyes shut, denying the scene unfurling in front of me. My body shakes with a fevered intensity, muscles spasming under the weight of the choice I’ve made. My nails dig deep into my palms, drawing droplets of blood. I can endure the sound of his last moments, the harrowing noise of violence, but I will not carry the vision of his death seared into my brain. I will not let it haunt me for all my days. Part of me will be spared; it has to be. I don’t know if I could survive the sight, and I won't let Tank die for nothing. My thoughts race, tumbling, leaping, crashing against the inside of my skull. I need to make it out of here. I have to get Vanessa out of here, no matter what, no matter the cost.
Victor says something — I don’t even register the words, simply hear the wanton, unspeakable cruelty in his tone. Then there’s a moment, a single heartbeat stretched infinitesimally thin, where the universe pauses and everything feels balanced on the head of a pin. My soul teeters on the brink, ready to rip free from this world. My heart knows it’s only seconds from shattering in two, from breaking beyond any hope of repair.
And then…
BANG.
The gunshot cracks through the stage like a thunderclap.
I scream. A raw, animal sound that tears out of my soul.
“No!”