The room felt suffocating and Emily's chest tightened, her breath shallow as she stared down at the traitor beneath them.
The figure, pinned on the cold concrete floor of the armory, was someone she had fought alongside, someone she had trusted.
The shock of recognition hit her like a punch to the gut.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice hoarse.
The traitor—Lena, a trusted officer in their ranks—stayed still, her eyes wide but unrepentant.
The struggle had left a bruise on her cheek, but she didn't flinch at the weapon Damien held steadily to her forehead.
"I had no choice," Lena finally whispered, her voice breaking.
"Everyone has a choice," Damien snapped, tightening his grip on his gun. "You chose to sell us out."
Lena's eyes darted between them, the weight of the moment sinking in. "You don't understand," she said quietly. "This isn't about money or power. It was never about that."