Isabella woke up to the sound of breathing.
Not hers.
Not Juan's.
Nolan's.
But it wasn't steady.
It was shallow.
Uneven.
Like he was afraid to let his lungs fill all the way.
She rolled onto her side and studied him in the dim light. His face was turned toward the wall, eyes open, unfocused.
"You're awake," she whispered.
He didn't answer.
She touched his shoulder gently.
He flinched.
That one movement shattered her.
"Nolan," she said quietly.
He turned his head slowly.
His eyes were alert. Too alert.
"You were dreaming," she said.
"No," he replied.
She swallowed. "Then what were you doing?"
"Remembering."
Her chest tightened. "What?"
"Who I was," he said.
She waited.
"And who I almost became."
She reached for his hand. This time, he didn't hesitate.
But he didn't squeeze back either.
That scared her more.
Later that morning, Juan ran into the kitchen with a drawing.
"Look!" he said proudly, holding it up.
Isabella smiled. "What is it?"
"Us," he said.
She took the paper.
It was simple. Stick figures. Big smiles.
One tall figure.
One with long hair.
A small one in the middle.
She pointed. "Who's this?"
"That's you," he said.
"And this?" she asked.
"Daddy," he said.
Nolan froze.
Juan didn't hesitate. "Because he came back."
Isabella felt something crack open in her chest.
Nolan knelt slowly.
"You drew me," he said.
Juan nodded. "You're not scary anymore."
The words hit harder than any bullet.
Nolan swallowed.
"What made me scary?" he asked.
Juan thought. "Your eyes were angry."
Silence filled the kitchen.
Isabella held her breath.
"And now?" Nolan asked.
Juan smiled. "Now they're tired."
Nolan laughed softly.
But it sounded broken.
Isabella watched him for the rest of the day.
Not because she didn't trust him.
But because she was afraid she might lose him without realizing it.
He barely spoke.
Barely ate.
Barely reacted.
He wasn't cold.
He was… distant.
Like he was standing on the edge of something.
And she didn't know what.
She found him later in the garage, sitting on the floor, back against the wall, gun disassembled in front of him.
She stopped in the doorway.
"Nolan."
He looked up.
Not startled.
Just… blank.
"You said you wouldn't do this anymore," she whispered.
He looked down at the pieces.
"I'm not using it."
"You're holding it," she replied.
He didn't argue.
She walked in.
Sat beside him.
Picked up one of the pieces.
Then gently placed it back.
"You promised," she said.
"I promised not to become him," he replied.
She nodded. "And what does this make you?"
He didn't answer.
She leaned into him.
"You don't get to protect us by disappearing," she whispered.
His jaw clenched.
"You don't understand," he said.
"Then explain," she replied.
He stared at the wall.
"When I hesitate," he said, "people I love suffer."
She closed her eyes.
"And when you stop hesitating," she said, "you become someone I don't recognize."
He turned to her.
"You think mercy is free?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I think it's expensive."
He exhaled sharply.
"That's the price," he said.
She studied him.
"And what about the price of becoming him?" she whispered.
He had no answer.
Three days later, the first consequence arrived.
A subpoena.
Marcus's lawyers.
Private.
Powerful.
Untraceable.
Nolan read it once.
Then again.
Isabella watched his face change.
"What is it?" she asked.
"They're pushing for reduced sentencing," he said.
Her blood ran cold. "No."
"They're claiming psychological coercion," he continued. "Unstable upbringing. No criminal intent."
She shook her head violently. "He tortured us."
"Yes," Nolan said.
"And he documented none of it," Nathan added from the doorway.
Isabella turned.
Nathan looked grim.
"They're painting him as a misunderstood victim," Nathan said.
She laughed hysterically. "That's insane."
Nolan closed his eyes.
"That's money," he said.
Silence fell.
Isabella whispered, "He's going to walk."
Nathan hesitated.
"Not walk," he said. "But not buried."
Her knees weakened.
Nolan grabbed her.
She clutched his shirt.
"He's going to come back," she whispered.
Nolan's jaw tightened.
"Yes."
Her voice shook. "And this time he won't play."
"No," Nolan agreed.
"He'll destroy."
That night, Isabella sat in Juan's room, watching him sleep.
Her hands trembled.
She was tired of being brave.
Tired of surviving.
Tired of loving people who could be taken from her.
She whispered, "I just want peace."
Nolan stood in the doorway.
He had heard her.
He walked in slowly.
"You won't get it from mercy," he said.
She looked up.
"And you won't get it from blood," she replied.
He crouched beside her.
"You still believe that," he said.
She swallowed.
"Yes."
He studied her.
"You're stronger than I am," he whispered.
She shook her head. "No. I'm softer."
He laughed quietly.
"That's worse," he said.
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"If I were like you," he said, "this wouldn't hurt."
She leaned into him.
"But then you wouldn't be you."
That night, Nolan made a decision.
Not out of anger.
Out of fear.
He called someone.
Someone he hadn't spoken to in years.
A voice answered.
"Sinclair," the voice said. "You're late."
"I need a favor," Nolan said.
Silence.
Then laughter.
"You don't ask for favors," the voice replied.
"I am now."
"And what would make me help you?" the voice asked.
Nolan's gaze hardened.
"I won't hesitate again."
Silence.
Then—
"Send me the name."
Marcus received the news in his hospital room.
He smiled.
The cracks were forming.
He could feel it.
Nolan was afraid of becoming him.
That fear would eat him alive.
Marcus whispered, "Good."
Isabella woke to find Nolan gone.
No note.
No message.
Just absence.
Her chest tightened painfully.
She sat up.
Something was wrong.
She went to Juan's room.
He was still sleeping.
Safe.
She exhaled.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Her heart slammed.
She answered.
Marcus's voice.
"You should tell him thank you," he said softly.
Her blood ran cold.
"Tell him what?" she whispered.
"For choosing," Marcus replied.
Her chest burned. "Choosing what?"
Marcus chuckled.
"He didn't hesitate," he said.
The line went dead.
Isabella's hands shook violently.
She tried Nolan.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
She whispered, "No, no, no…"
She ran.
Out the door.
Barefoot.
Heart screaming.
Nolan stood in a dim room across the city.
Not a warehouse.
Not a cell.
A meeting room.
Clean.
Silent.
Three men sat across from him.
Dangerous men.
Men who didn't need weapons to destroy lives.
"You want him erased," one said.
"Yes," Nolan replied.
"That's not cheap," another said.
"I know."
"And not clean," the third added.
"I don't care."
Silence.
"Once we start," the first man said, "you don't get to be the good guy anymore."
Nolan didn't blink.
"I already crossed that line."
Isabella burst into the building.
Shouting his name.
Security moved.
Nathan intercepted her.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
She grabbed his shirt.
"Where is he?"
Nathan's face told her.
She screamed.
"No."
"He's trying to end it," Nathan said.
"Not stop it," she cried. "End it."
Nathan didn't argue.
She whispered, "He's becoming him."
Marcus smiled as he watched the feeds.
Because Nolan had made his first irreversible choice.
And Isabella was about to make hers.