They tied them to the top of a water tank over ten meters high and forced me to choose: whoever I didn’t pick would be dropped to drown, the other I could take away.
Everyone expected me to choose my brother; he was my blood, my last kin, but my hands shook as I pointed to Athena; keeping her alive had become my obsession.
I'll never forget my brother's look then, hopeless and without blame.
By the time our men broke the tank, he had already suffered brain damage from the drowning.
Athena found the best doctor, put a gun to his head, and forced him to save my brother.
The doctor had said the chance of the coma patient waking was slim, but as long as life hung by a thread, there was always hope, and she had sworn she'd care for my brother forever, yet now, for another man, she had cut that thread herself.
I pulled out a gun, aimed at her head, and fired. She didn't move, and I didn't hit her; my hand shook so badly that the bullet only grazed her cheek, leaving a red streak.
Athena calmly wiped the blood away. "Waylon, if you really wanted to kill someone, don't tremble!"