The glass trembled in my grip, condensation bleeding into my palm. Outside, the city glittered like a blade’s edge beneath the sunset—beautiful, lethal. So, like him. 

“Weak? You mistake mercy for fragility, Raf. My father’s ‘strength’ left him alone in a mansion with a vault full of blood money and a whiskey habit that almost outlived him. Tell me—” I stepped closer, the chill from the balcony seeping into my bones, “—when they finally put a bullet in his skull… did his lack of conscience keep him warm at night?” 

Rafayel’s smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat. 

“You think this vengeance of yours will feel like justice?” I pressed. “Burn...