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31: Confrontation With the Assassin
As Carlos remained leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall, blood trickling steadily down his face from the crash, staining his shirt and the ground beneath him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from shock, exhaustion, and pain. The man with the pistol stood just a few steps away, his finger casually resting on the trigger, but Carlos felt too drained to resist. He closed his eyes, accepting what seemed like an inevitable end.

He muttered under his breath, his voice shaky but sincere, praying to God for mercy, hoping that his death would be quick and painless. The faces of his parents, Margaret and Anthony Wilson, flashed in his mind. Regret gnawed at his heart, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes as he silently apologized to them.

“I’m sorry, Mom... Dad... I should have been a better son. If there’s another life, I promise... I’ll make things right.”

As his words trailed off into the cool night air, the man with the pistol suddenly burst into laughter.
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