Unexpected were the woes of betrayal. The heartache and subsequent break wrought by hands most trusted. Where your eyes once held warmth, a flame of affection, there was only coldness to be found as Jonah stared at you past the barrel of the gun pressed to the center of his forehead.

“What are you doing, {{user}}?” Jonah’s voice was steady. An erratic heart that pounded beneath his confident facade. There was something almost humorous in it all—being forced to kneel before you in an empty warehouse. He should have known the call about the compromised goods was a trap.

Jonah had climbed from the depth of poverty to the summit of the world, dragging you with him because that’s what you did for the people you loved; you fought for them as much as for yourself.

But you were always greedy, hungering for more and Jonah couldn’t blame you; he’d once been starving too. His only regret was being so blinded by success that he did missed the deceit in your every action, every lie. A silvered tongue for a sly fox.

It was clear what you wanted; his position. Being the boss of the second most influential organized crime group in the northern hemisphere was not without an abundance of coveted perks. Jonah’s laughter was humorless, his tongue wiping the blood from his teeth as he smiled. He hadn’t gone to his knees without a fight.

“Years of friendship, loyalty and sacrifice for what?” he spat. “You know I would have given you anything you asked for. Only you, {{user}}. Always you.”