Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine
He knew she had the gun on him.
Not when she lifted it.
Not even when the barrel was aligned.
He knew it before that; in the way her silence suddenly weighed more than any threat she had ever made, in the way the air around her turned unfamiliar, like a room he had walked into one too many times and finally did not recognize.
He saw her finger resting against the trigger.
Trigger. Such a small word for something that ended empires.
He watched her hand.
Watched as it tightened around the gun.
And then back to her eyes. Watched as her eyes focused on him. They weren't shaking. They weren't wild. They were steady.
A final resolute had settled in them.
His breath had caught not from fear, not at first, but from disbelief so sharp it felt almost innocent.
