Chapter 86 - 88
Botan POV
I stare after her brokenly as Akio follows and I have no choice but to let her go. Akio was righ. Nothing I say can undo what had been long done and trying to keep her would only deepen her despise. But the grief coils in me, a living thing, clawing to escape.
I wrench myself free of the guards’ grip, but one of them makes the mistake of holding on too tightly. Rage bursts loose and I slam his arm away, his hand reflexively flying to his holster, but I’m faster. I rip the weapon from him and drive him to the ground with savage blows. The crunch of his nose splitting under my fists satiates a thirst that has gone unquenched for too long. Blood spurts, painting my knuckles, and I nearly lose myself to the chaos—until I hear his voice.
"Botan!"
The command snaps into involuntary submission, muscle memory yielding to his authority. I stand, heaving for breath, my chest rising and falling like a caged animal. Haru steps forward with calm precision, the others falling into formation behind him. He doesn’t flinch as I lift the stolen gun, the barrel aimed directly at his forehead. The circle tightens as the men surrounding us draw their weapons to level them at me threateningly.
With a single raised hand, Haru eases them, their weapons lowering as though his control overrides instinct. His eyes meet mine, unflinching, the lines of his face carved in stone.
"My son won’t kill me," he says, his voice quiet but cutting through the stillness like a blade. "The only person he wants to hurt most is himself. Because he knows who is to blame. It’s not me—I never gave the order for Alden. I never sanctioned it. That decision was yours. Your killer instinct." His voice hardens. "One I should have heeded long ago."
The gun trembles in my grip. The rage curdles, giving way to an anguish I can no longer contain. The barrel shifts from his forehead to my own, pressing hard against my temple.
"Botan!" Haru’s voice sharpens with a panic I’ve never heard before.
I drive the gun against my skull, the hard metal biting into bone as I let out a roar that tears through the air, pounding the weapon against my head again and again. Each strike releases a fraction of the rage inside me, but it’s not enough.
Haru moves closer, his steps measured as he reaches out. His hands are steady as he pries the gun from my grip, his touch careful, deliberate, as if soothing a wounded animal. One hand lingers at my shoulder before sliding up to stroke through my hair, an intimate gesture I eventually recoil from.
I straighten to my full height, pulling away, but he doesn’t retreat. His eyes search mine, deep and knowing, and a sharp smile curves his lips.