"No," she said. "Let him live." Philip blinked, confused. She stood in front of him now, unflinching. No longer the frightened woman he had once controlled. No longer the grieving mother, he thought he had broken. No longer his.
"Because now," Mara whispered, leaning in so close he could feel her breath, "you get to watch me become everything you tried to destroy, not for long."
Her voice was low and calm, but behind it simmered rage sharpened to a blade.
"And your enemies?" She smiled coldly. "They're going to love tearing you apart. One piece at a time."
Philip's mouth twisted, trying to summon a cruel reply, some last pathetic jab, but before he could speak, the distant wail of sirens split the night.
Mara straightened, pulling on her coat like a queen cloaking herself in finality.
"Showtime," she said simply.
