(Samuel's POV)
I stopped.
Just for a mont.
I let out a slow breath, turning my head slightly to look at her. "For a mont, when you said it was a setup... I wanted to believe it."
Her eyes lit up—just for a second, as if she thought she had a chance.
I crushed that hope imdiately.
"But who am I fooling?"
Her face paled.
I took a slow step toward her, my erald eyes empty, cold, void of anything she once knew.
"The lipstick marks on those n's necks."
She flinched.
"The used condoms spread across our bedroom floor—the sa ones you made clean."
Her breathing grew shallow, her hands trembling slightly.
But I didn't stop.
"Do you know what I should've done, Abigail?"
She shook her head weakly. "Samuel..."
I let out a bitter chuckle. "I should've killed myself back then."
She gasped, shaking her head violently. "No! Don't say that!"
I exhaled, rubbing my face before looking at her again.
"But I didn't. And do you know why?"
Her lips trembled, but no words ca out.
"Because I realized sothing."****"You weren't worth dying over."
The silence that followed was crushing.
She looked as if I had just ripped her heart out.
But I didn't care.
Not anymore.
I turned away, walking toward the exit.
"Goodbye, Abigail."
I didn't look back.
Not once.
As I stepped out of the coffee shop, the cold London air hit , but it felt lighter than before.
Behind , Abigail was probably still standing there—stunned, shaking, drowning in the weight of her own choices.
But that wasn't my problem anymore.
She was the past.
And I wasn't a man who lived in the past.
I lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly as I stuffed my free hand into my pocket. "72 hours to kill, huh?"
I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.
Then, as if the universe was mocking , my phone buzzed.
[INCOMING CALL: Henry]
I smirked, answering. "Yo. Done painting already?"
Henry's voice ca through, amused as ever. "Nah, just checking in. Figured you were either breaking skulls or breaking soone emotionally."
I laughed. "The second one. Guess who?"
Henry paused for a second. Then he groaned. "Let guess... the bitch Bardot?"
"Bingo."
He whistled. "Damn. What happened?"
I took another drag of my cigarette. "She tried feeding the sa old lies. I reminded her of reality."
Henry chuckled. "Good. Should've done that ages ago."
I smirked. "You're not wrong."
He sighed on the other end. "So, what now? Still got ti to kill before Project Hades."
I exhaled, looking at the London skyline. "Let's et up. We'll figure sothing out."
Henry chuckled. "Alright, Liberty's on the way."
After hanging up, I casually strolled through the London streets, hands in my pockets, feeling the weight of my conversation with Abigail slowly fade into nothing.
The past had no grip on anymore.
I reached a quiet alleyway and leaned against the wall, waiting.
Within seconds, a golden shimr appeared in front of , and Henry blinked into existence, smirking.
"Damn, you really can't sit still, can you?" he chuckled, crossing his arms.
I smirked. "Says the guy who ditched painting because he got bored."
Henry shrugged. "Guilty as charged."
We both stood there for a second, the city buzzing around us, but we felt detached from it all.
Henry glanced at . "So? What's the plan?"
I exhaled. "We've got 72 hours until Project Hades activates. We need to find sothing to do before we go insane from boredom."
Henry thought for a second, then grinned. "You know... we've taken out every major syndicate in London, but there's still one thing left."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Henry's smirk widened. "The underground fight circuit. The biggest one in Europe is happening right here, in London. Fighters from all over the world, no rules, no restrictions."
My smirk matched his. "Now that sounds like my kind of warm-up."
Henry chuckled. "Figured you'd say that. Let's head over. It starts tonight."
I cracked my neck, excitent surging through . "Then let's go make so people regret stepping into the ring."
Without another word, we vanished into the night.
The countdown to Project Hades was ticking.
And we were going to spend every second having fun.
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