"What have you done?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling, like sothing fragile that could shatter at any mont.
But the truth was... it didn’t matter anymore.
I gave a faint smile and simply ignored her. There was nothing left to explain, nothing left to defend. I had long since stopped wanting to repeat my suffering for others to hear. Pain like that wasn’t sothing you could truly describe anyway. The more you tried to explain it, the more aningless it sounded. Words were too small for things like that.
Vivian suddenly stumbled toward , her steps uneven, her arms stretched forward like she wanted to pull into an embrace.
"Elena, I’m sorry..."
Her voice broke halfway through the sentence, the apology cracking apart as tears filled her eyes.
But I stood still.
I had clawed my way out of hell with bleeding hands. I hadn’t survived all that just to stand here now and watch soone perform a scene of regret in front of .
If she had truly cared about , she would never have believed I was so wicked... so broken.
The most ironic part was the truth.
The person trying to defend now was the sa one who had pushed into the deepest darkness in the first place.
"Mrs. Morrigan," I said quietly, my voice calm but distant, as if I were speaking to a stranger. "I don’t deserve this."
Her hand trembled as she reached toward my face. Her eyes were red and blurred with tears as her fingers brushed my cheek gently, almost fearfully.
"My poor daughter..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "I’m so sorry. How could I have thought of you like that? You’ve always been the most well-behaved child since you were little."
Yes.
I had always been obedient.
After my sister disappeared, I could feel the tension in the Morrigans household growing heavier with every passing day. The air in that house had felt suffocating. Everyone was grieving in their own way. Everyone was angry, confused, and restless.
So I tried my best to be the perfect daughter.
The perfect sister.
I followed every rule. I swallowed every complaint. I made sure no one had to worry about . I tried to stay quiet, to stay small, to stay invisible.
I thought that if I behaved well enough, if I endured quietly enough, maybe things would beco peaceful again.
Maybe the house would feel like a ho again.
But in the end...
My kindness and obedience beca the very weapons they used against .
Before Vivian’s hand could rest properly against my face, Wisteria suddenly grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backward violently.
Vivian cried out in shock as her body jerked back.
Wisteria’s voice carried the sa sweet tone as always, soft and gentle, but the kindness in it was completely fake.
"Mom," she said softly, her lips curving slightly, "I didn’t reveal the truth so you could reunite with your precious daughter."
Her lips curved into a cold, mocking smile.
Exactly.
Her goal had never been reunion.
She wanted the Morrigans family to suffer.
Physical pain was nothing compared to psychological tornt. A broken bone could heal with ti. A wound could close and fade.
But so scars stayed forever.
She shoved Vivian aside carelessly like she was nothing more than an obstacle.
Vivian staggered and nearly fell to the ground.
"Mom, do you know why I left Greg unhard?" Wisteria continued casually, tilting her head slightly as if she were discussing sothing trivial. "Nolan and Jake died too quickly. It wasn’t satisfying at all."
Her eyes glittered with a strange excitent.
"I’ve been waiting for this mont for so long."
She slowly turned her gaze toward .
The smile on her face widened slowly, like soone who had finally reached the most entertaining part of a ga.
"How about we play a little ga?"
Her voice was light, almost playful.
"Elena, you’ve always been pitiful in the Morrigans family too. You must hate them just as much as I do, right?"
She gestured lazily toward the two n standing nearby.
"I’ll give you a choice," she said. "Pick one person—Malcom or Greg. Cut off his legs, and I’ll let you walk away."
Malcom and Greg both looked at .
For a mont, everything beca very quiet.
I expected them to beg.
I expected crying, pleading, maybe even screaming.
But Malcom simply closed his eyes.
Whatever emotions were inside him, he hid them carefully behind that tired expression.
"Cut off my legs," he said quietly.
His voice sounded old.
In that mont, his face seed to age ten... maybe twenty years. The strong, energetic man I rembered from half a year ago was gone.
Standing beside Dominic now, he looked more like the elder between them.
His hands tightened around the fabric of his pants, gripping it hard as his lips trembled slightly.
"It’s my fault," he murmured under his breath.
Dad...
The word rose in my chest without warning.
A mory suddenly flashed through my mind.
Him and Luke traveling all the way to Chedor just to find .
The long road.
The exhaustion on his face.
The way he had looked at when he finally found .
He had always been complicated.
Selfish.
Fearful.
Greedy.
Reckless.
But there were monts when he had been sincere too.
Humans were strange creatures.
Full of contradictions.
Capable of cruelty and kindness at the sa ti.
My body trembled slightly.
When I finally spoke, my voice shook despite my efforts to keep it steady.
"Do you think saying that will make forgive you?"
My throat tightened painfully.
"I won’t," I said. "I can never forgive you for everything you’ve done to ."
Malcom slowly opened his eyes.
There was no anger in them.
Only exhaustion.
"Then kill ," he said quietly. "That’s what the Morrigans owe you."
In this life-or-death mont...
He was the first to step forward like a true elder.
Greg suddenly cried out in panic.
"Dad, you can’t die!"
His voice cracked as he turned to look at desperately.
"Elena, kill instead. Let my blood pay for your suffering."
The desperation in his voice filled the room.
Soone standing beside suddenly placed sothing heavy in my hand.
An axe.
The cold tal handle sent a chill through my palm, the weight of it pressing down against my fingers.
For a mont, a mory flashed in my mind.
The things I had seen inside Yael’s car trunk.
The blood.
The silence.
If it were them standing here...
They would probably laugh.
And swing the axe without hesitation.
Sotis...
I truly hated myself for not being ruthless enough.
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