Game over.
“Do you understand what it means to betray a Santoro? Do you understand what it means to harm my children, to threaten what I love, to manipulate and murder and lie? You will never escape this, Owen. You will die tonight.”
His eyes fill with tears, a mixture of shame and terror, but I let none of it soften me. The night is mine, the ocean endless, the deck a stage for the reckoning that must come. I press the blade firmly against his wrist, letting him feel the cold steel bite deep, cutting one finger at a time until the confession is complete, until the truth is irrevocable, until the realization dawns that I am no longer the frightened child, the powerless daughter, but the unstoppable Don