IF YOU WALK AWAY.

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Chapter 66 – If You Walk Away.

Vincent was done.

Or at least, he wanted to be.

Wanted to walk away. Wanted to stop caring.

Wanted to stop looking at Zane and waiting—for an excuse, for an explanation, for something that would make this hurt less.

But he wasn't getting one.

Zane had lied.

Not for years. Not for a lifetime.

But long enough.

Long enough that Vincent didn't know if he could trust him anymore.

So he turned. Kept walking.

Zane followed.

"Vincent—"

"I said don't."

Zane's jaw clenched. "Just listen to me."

Vincent stopped.

Turned.

And when he spoke, his voice was cold.

"I did listen, Zane. I listened to you tell me you were different. I listened to you say you weren't like your father. That you weren't one of them." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "And the whole time? You were keeping this from me."

Zane's fingers twitched. "I didn't have a choice."

Vincent let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That's the thing about choices, Zane—you always have one. You just picked the one that meant not telling me."

Zane inhaled sharply. "I was protecting you."

Vincent's expression hardened. "No. You were protecting yourself."

Silence.

Zane swallowed. "I—"

"Don't." Vincent's voice was quiet. Almost tired. "Just… don't."

Zane felt something break in his chest.

Because Vincent never sounded like this. Never sounded like he was giving up.

And now?

Now he did.

And that?

That was worse than anything.

So Zane did the only thing he could.

He reached out—fingers brushing against Vincent's wrist, holding on.

And for a second—

Vincent let him.

But only for a second.

Then—

He pulled away.

And when he looked at Zane again, his expression was final.

"We need to go," he said simply. "Cain's waiting."

Then—he walked away.

Zane didn't stop him.

Because for the first time—he wasn't sure he could.

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The Weight of Silence

They moved fast, weaving through the darkened streets, sticking to the back alleys. Cain led, moving with sharp, practiced ease.

Vincent followed.

Zane kept up. But it wasn't the same.

The silence between them was too loud.

Cain noticed. Of course, he noticed.

But he didn't say anything. Not yet.

They reached the abandoned safe house, slipping inside without a word. Cain locked the door, then turned to them.

"What the hell happened?" he asked.

Vincent didn't answer.

Zane didn't either.

Cain exhaled sharply. "We don't have time for whatever the hell is going on with you two." His gaze flickered between them. "Sort it out. Now."

Then—he was gone, disappearing into another room, leaving them alone.

Vincent exhaled, pressing a hand to his temple. He was tired.

Zane stepped closer.

Vincent didn't move. Didn't look at him.

Didn't tell him to stop.

Zane's voice was quiet. "Vincent, I never meant for you to find out like this."

Vincent's fingers twitched. "Like what?" His voice was flat. Empty. "Like the truth?"

Zane clenched his jaw. "Like something that would make you look at me like that."

Vincent stiffened.

Because Zane was right.

Something had changed.

The way Vincent looked at him. The way he felt when Zane was close.

It wasn't trust anymore.

It was doubt.

And maybe—maybe that hurt more than anything else.

Vincent exhaled. Stepped back.

"Get some rest," he murmured. "Tomorrow, we figure out what's next."

Then—he left.

And Zane?

Zane just stood there.

Feeling like he'd just lost something he didn't know how to get back.

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