Vico stepped forward first. “Take me. I’ve got nothing left.”
“Then who is?” she whispered.
“I started this,” Vico said. “Let the rest go.”
Mr. Morning tilted his head. “You’d go to hell for strangers? You, the gangster?”
Behind them, slow applause. Mr. Morning stepped from the shadows, unhurried, unarmed. He looked at them both like a father disappointed by gifted children.
“And you’re a cop who let a monster manipulate her for years,” Vico shot back. “We’re both damned. But those people on the list? They’re just names on paper. They didn’t choose this.”
In the rain-slicked streets of a city that had long forgotten the difference between sin and survival, three figures moved toward a collision that would decide the fate of every soul in it.
Nina grabbed his arm. “No. You don’t get to play hero. You’re a murderer.”