Eyes Above, Death Below

Victor stared at the two lifeless bodies sprawled across the cracked concrete, their blood seeping into the dirt. The air still hung heavy with gunpowder, the metallic scent clawing at his nostrils.

He hadn't meant to kill them both — not like this. One shot each, clean and fast. It was almost instinctive. They dropped before he even realized he'd pulled the trigger.

Victor cursed under his breath, lowering his gun. He tried—hell, he really did. He gave them a chance to talk, to walk away, maybe strike some shaky deal to leave each other the hell alone. But no. They wanted to shoot first.

His grip tightened around the pistol. It was always the same. The desperate ones always pulled the trigger without thinking — as if dying was better than trusting anyone in this world anymore.