We will win it.We already have,Nadine said.You trained me to be a killer, but you never taught me to be part of something larger than myself.And that’s what will make the difference.
Gregory’s voice began to waver as his strength failed.The Prometheus Group will continue.Others will take my place.The old ways will die regardless of what happens here.
Maybe,Nadine replied, her voice steady despite the pain radiating from her wounded shoulder.But you won’t be around to see it.
Gregory’s eyes met hers one final time, and for a moment she saw the father who had rescued her from foster care, who had taught her to survive in a dangerous world.But that man had been consumed by ambition and ideology, leaving only the shell of someone who had once cared about her welfare.
You could have been magnificent,he whispered, blood frothing at his mouth.My perfect creation.My legacy.
I am magnificent,Nadine said quietly.Just not in the way you wanted.
And without another word, Gregory Torrance, Vincent’s former enforcer and architect of the Prometheus Group conspiracy, died as he had lived—surrounded by violence he had helped create.
But this time, the violence served justice rather than ambition.
The laboratory fell silent except for the sound of the three remaining wolf shifters still breathing heavily from their exertions.
Nadine stood over Gregory’s body, feeling hollow rather than triumphant.She had expected satisfaction from finally confronting the man who had manipulated her entire life.Instead, she felt only the heavy recognition that some family bonds could only be severed through violence.
Nadine stared down at the man who had been her father, her teacher, her protector—and ultimately her greatest enemy.Blood pooled beneath his still form, and she found herself cataloging details with the clinical detachment he had instilled in her.
The scar along his left temple from a training accident when she was twelve.The calloused hands that had shown her how to field-dress a wound, how to read animal tracks, how to survive in a world that wanted to destroy her.
The silver threading through his dark hair that she’d never noticed before, evidence of years carrying burdens she was only beginning to understand.
This is what I wanted, she told herself.Justice.An end to his schemes.
But her chest felt carved out, emptied by a grief that made no logical sense.
Gregory Torrance had been a monster who’d manipulated her from childhood, who’d orchestrated the deaths of innocent people, who’d planned to reprogram her into a puppet and have her kill her mate.She should feel relief.Victory.The satisfaction of a mission completed.
Instead, she felt seven years old again, watching Gregory teach her to start a campfire with wet matches becauseemergencies don’t wait for perfect conditions.She remembered the pride in his voice when she’d successfully tracked her first deer, the gentle patience when she’d cried over a wounded bird they couldn’t save, the fierce protectiveness when other shifters had questioned why he was raising a child who wasn’t blood-related.
Had any of that been real?Or had she been an investment from the very beginning, a long-term project designed to serve his larger ambitions?
Nadine.Conall’s voice was gentle.Through the mate bond, she felt his concern, his recognition of the complex emotions tearing through her.
I’m fine,she said automatically.
No, you’re not.Quinton’s voice surprised her—matter-of-fact but not unkind.The three of us just killed the only father you’ve ever known.Being fine would make you a sociopath.
The unexpected understanding from Conall’s twin nearly broke her composure.She’d expected judgment, suspicion, continued hostility.Not empathy.
He wasn’t my father,she said, but her voice cracked on the words.Not really.I was just another asset to him.A weapon he trained and pointed at his enemies.
Maybe,Conall said, moving closer.But that doesn’t change what he meant to you.
The tears came without warning—hot, bitter drops she tried desperately to wipe away.She’d learned early that crying was a luxury she couldn’t afford, that showing vulnerability invited exploitation.Gregory had taught her that lesson through countless exercises designed to build emotional resilience.
Even now, he’s controlling my responses, she thought with fresh anguish.Even in death, I’m still following his programming.
I loved him,she whispered.For eighteen years, I loved him.I would have died for him.Would have killed for him.And he—Her voice broke completely.He was already dead to me the moment I learned the truth, but I couldn’t stop hoping that somewhere underneath all the lies, there was still the man who taught me to be strong.
The sobs came harder now, suppressed grief and rage and confusion pouring out in the sterile laboratory where she’d finally confronted the truth about her past.
She cried for the father who had never existed, for the childhood built on foundations of deception, for the innocent people who had died because of Gregory’s ambitions.
She cried for the girl who had believed that strength meant isolation, that love was weakness, that family loyalty trumped moral considerations.For the woman who had spent her time hunting innocent people based on lies fed to her by the man she’d trusted most.
