Synopsis

The gun felt cold in my hand, a stark counterpoint to the tremor in my fingers. Three years. Three years ago, I’d spoken to him, coaxed him, pleaded with him to turn his family in. Now, here we were. He stood across from me, a boy really, hardened by circumstances beyond his years. The weight of that gun seemed to settle on his shoulders, mirroring the burden I carried. Ioki. He'd been so eager then, desperate for a way out. And I, in my naive hope, had offered him one. The irony was a