James pushed himself upright despite the lingering weakness, eyes burning as he looked at Bruce.
"Let me end it," he said.
His voice shook, not with fear, but with rage barely held in check. "Let me be the one to end them," James continued, fists clenching at his sides. "Since they want me dead so badly, it's only right they die by my hands."
Bruce studied him for a moment. Not judging. Measuring. Then he nodded once.
"Do it quickly," he said. "And don't hesitate."
James didn't reply. He reached for the fallen blade, fingers tightening around the hilt as the room fell silent. When it was over, there were no screams, no struggle, only stillness. Bruce stood nearby, watching without interference, waiting, making sure it ended cleanly. When James finally let the blade slip from his hand, his shoulders sagged and his breath shuddered as the weight of it all settled in.
"It's done," Bruce said calmly.
