“GO”
Alexander didn’t rush for the gun.
He didn’t strike.
Instead, he finished cutting through Marina’s zip ties. She immediately pulled the twins into her arms, pressing her face into their hair as sobs shook her body.
Then Alexander crossed the room to Gabriel and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Go,” Alexander said quietly. “Take my car. Side entrance. The keys are inside. Just go.”
Gabriel stared up at him, stunned.
“You’re really letting me go?”
“I’m giving us both a second chance,” Alexander replied. “Don’t waste it.”
Gabriel snatched up the business card, stumbled to his feet, and ran.
Moments later, an engine roared to life. Tires hissed against snow. The sound disappeared into the storm.
Alexander remained seated on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands, his body shaking.
A small hand brushed his knee.
Peter, eyes swollen red, voice quivering: “Are the bad men gone?”
Alexander lifted him onto his lap—something he had never done before.
“Yes,” he whispered. “He’s gone. He was just… very sad.”
Marina rubbed at her bruised wrists and studied Alexander as if she were seeing him anew.
“You knew him?” she asked gently.
Alexander’s voice came out rough.
“I made him.”
Then, softer:
“And I have to fix it.”
