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32. A Question Mark

Roman

The moment I stepped into my office, I could sense that my carefully constructed facade of control was beginning to crumble. Despite my best guards watching Aella, my insides were still filled with restless anger.

I sit back in my leather chair, staring at the mahogany desk that’s seen better days. It’s cluttered with maps, reports, and my damn laptop, all screaming at me that I’ve done what I set out to do. I got Aella back; Esteban is locked up, waiting for his inevitable fate.

The mission is complete, but sitting here, in this room, I’ve never felt more incomplete. And that realization is the most crippling of all.

I grind my teeth, annoyed at myself. I’ve been leading this pack since I was barely out of my teens, made hard calls—calls that would make a lesser man crumble. But here I am, second-guessing every choice that led me to this moment.

And it’s not the mission; it’s her. It’s always been HER.

I drum my fingers on the table, each tap sending a jolt through me, like I
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