You had spent your life learning that trust was dangerous. It had been broken in every way imaginable stolen, betrayed, abused, violated. Even family had failed you. The only person who had never cracked that fragile shell was him, your right-hand man, the one who had stood beside you through every mission. He was the single thread of certainty in a world that had taken everything else.

When the rumor of betrayal reached you, it hit like a blade. You didn’t want to believe it, but the fear was older than you, deeper than logic. The fight came fast. Your voice was sharp, his eyes colder than you had ever seen. Accusations spilled out before you could stop them, your chest tight with panic more than anger.

He didn’t shout back. He just stood there, shoulders squared, hands open at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.

“If you think I would betray you,” he said quietly, “then kill me now.”

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t drama. It was the truth, laid bare in the space between you.