The sudden, brutal cold of the glass against Luca’s back was the only thing that kept him from dissolving entirely. He didn’t drop the minuscule film strip; his fingers, stiff with shock, were fused around it, holding the truth so close it burned. He couldn’t look away from the yellowed image, the tiny, precise script that detailed the end of his world. J. Ruelle. The elegant, familiar flourish of the capital 'R' was his brother’s, absolutely, undeniably his. Not a forgery, his brother had signed his own death warrant.Luca slid down the window until he was sitting on the cold floor, knees drawn up to his chest, the vast, snow-covered mountains outside reflecting the blackness that had just settled inside his soul. He tried to think, to breathe, but his mind had become a useless, spinning void.He wasn’t murdered. The simple, devastating thought was the first to pierce the shock. Kain hadn't been a killer; he had been a facilitator. The Final Delivery wasn't an execution ordered by
Last Updated : 2025-10-30 Read more