Will There Be An End?

**TRACY SCOTT**. I need a grip. A tight grip and maybe a lid. A grip on these whirling emotions inside me, like a storm and I'm in the fucking eye.

An hour ago I was prepared, willing, and heaven knows I was ready to commit first-degree murder and not even blink.

That's how mad I was. Was it anger? Or hurt? Or thirst for vergence? That would be fueled by either the former or latter before it?

I'm not sure what it is, but it's there.

I can feel it inside of it, it's burning and it keeps increasing with each passing minute.

I would have killed that man, I would have done so without so much as blinking.

That's how vicious I have become.

Ethan was the only anchor left, if it wasn't for him I would have finished Antonov off.

For now, I just need to stay in the same room with him.

I need to look him in the eye and figure out why he ruined my life.

Why did he kill my mother?

Why did he start this goose chase for me decades