The world seemed to narrow to a single space, a single moment. The cold bite of the midnight air wrapped around Hazel's skin as she faced Isabelle Crowe. Pier 17 was silent, save for the distant lapping of dark water against rusted docks.
The lone table between them gleamed under the harsh floodlights. On it — two guns, one bullet each.
Hazel could feel Michael's eyes on her, burning like fire, but she didn't look back.
Isabelle picked up a gun and spun the chamber with a flick of her wrist. "One shot," she repeated, voice soft, dangerous. "Winner walks away."
Hazel raised a brow, fingers steady as she reached for the second gun. "Loser dies, huh? Very old-school."
A twisted smile ghosted across Isabelle's lips. "You're not as naive as you pretend."
Hazel smirked, cocking the gun. "And you're not as fearless as you act."
Michael stepped forward. "This is insanity—"
Hazel held up a hand without looking at him. "This is mine."
Isabelle's cold gaze flicked to Michael. "You should've killed me when you had the chance."
Michael's expression darkened. "I still might."
Hazel's heart thudded, but she kept her smile sharp. "You'll have to get in line."
**
Connor's Perspective
Connor watched from the shadows, fingers tight on his holster. He hated this. Everything about it. Hazel had been reckless before, sure — but now she was lethal. And weirdly… mesmerizing.
"Come on, Queen of Chaos," he muttered under his breath.
**
The Duel
They stood five paces apart. Roman counted it off, his voice carrying over the empty dock.
"Five… four… three…"
Hazel's pulse steadied. Not racing. Not panicking. Just a strange, electric calm.
"Two…"
Isabelle raised her gun, eyes locked on Hazel's heart.
"One."
A breath.
Then — bang.
The crack of a single shot split the night.
**
Silence
The echo lingered as Hazel's gun smoked gently in her hand. Across from her, Isabelle staggered, a crimson bloom spreading across her chest.
Hazel's voice was a whisper. "I don't miss."
Isabelle dropped to her knees, lips parting in shock. Blood stained the dock beneath her, and for the first time, fear flickered in her gaze.
Michael moved in an instant, catching Hazel around the waist and pulling her back, his hand trembling against her ribs.
"You okay?" His voice was low, rough.
Hazel leaned into him for a heartbeat, then stepped forward, crouching beside Isabelle.
"You should've known better," Hazel murmured.
Isabelle coughed, blood on her lips. "This… isn't over…"
Hazel tilted her head. "Yeah, it is."
With one swift motion, Hazel took the locket from Isabelle's neck — the one with Liam's photo. "He didn't deserve you either."
Isabelle's body went still.
**
Aftermath
The Graze men cleaned up quickly. Roman disappeared into the mist, Connor made calls, and by dawn, Pier 17 was just another forgotten dock.
Back at the penthouse, Hazel showered alone, letting the scalding water wash away blood and smoke and fear. She studied her reflection in the fogged mirror afterward — hair wet, eyes dark and unreadable.
Michael appeared behind her, his reflection a stark contrast in perfect control.
"You didn't hesitate," he said quietly.
Hazel met his gaze. "Neither did she."
He moved closer, pressing his lips to her temple. "You scare me sometimes."
She smirked, leaning back into him. "That's half the fun."
Michael sighed against her skin. "You saved my life tonight. Again."
Hazel turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't get soft on me now, Mr. Graze."
He chuckled darkly, one hand cupping the back of her neck. "Too late for that."
They kissed, and it wasn't soft. It was desperate, fierce, a collision of survival and adrenaline. Of two monsters realizing they might just belong to each other in this ruthless world.
**
Later
As the city woke, headlines blared:
"Isabelle Crowe Dead: Graze Empire Untouchable"
Michael Graze was hailed a mastermind.
But insiders knew.
This was Hazel's war.
And she had won.
For now....