The shot reverberated through the silence of the factory, ringing in Aaron's ears like the toll of a bell. His hand remained steady on the gun, eyes fixed on Bishop as the man's body slumped against the metal railing. A twisted smile lingered on his lips, even in the face of death.
"You think this is over?" Bishop's voice was weak, but there was a dangerous undertone to it. "You've won a battle, Aaron. But the war… the war is never over."
Aaron didn't respond. He watched as Bishop's eyes began to glaze over, his chest barely rising with each labored breath. Every word Bishop had ever spoken, every lie, every twisted piece of manipulation, came rushing back to him. But Aaron had no more time for Bishop's games. No more time for his poisonous words.
He stepped forward, his boots echoing on the steel floor. With a final pull of the trigger, Bishop's reign was extinguished. The man who had played god with their lives was finally gone, crumpled on the factory floor, a ghost of what he had once been.
For a moment, the factory seemed to hold its breath. The flickering lights cast long shadows across the scene—dark, empty, and final.
Aaron lowered the gun, his fingers numb, his body heavy. It was over. The enemy had fallen. But the weight of everything that had come before him, all the lives he had ruined, all the things he had done, still hung on him like chains.
He didn't know if he would ever feel free. Not really.