“Because you were never meant to be ordinary, Elizabeth. You were meant to be unbreakable.”
“I was meant to be free,” I hissed, the words sharp on my tongue.
He took a deliberate step forward, unarmed yet still exuding danger.
“Free people make mistakes. They fall in love. They soften. They get killed.”
I held my ground, unwavering. “So you turned me into a monster instead.”
“No,” he replied coolly. “I made you exceptional. I stripped away the weakness, armed you with the tools to survive when no one else would.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words heavy.
“You call that love?”
He didn’t flinch.
“I call it evolution.”
Just like that, the atmosphere shifted—the walls around us creaking, the sound of metal grinding, motion sensors blaring.
We were no longer alone. A dozen armed men surged in from the shadows, rifles raised, encircling us. Therewas no hesitation in their movements; they were ready for a fight.
Noah’s gun was up in an instant.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured beside me, a promise laced in his voice.
I didn’t need to look at him to know I was safe.
What came next was a blur—too swift to comprehend.
Noah moved like a whisper of wind and a flare of fire, cutting through the soldiers with ruthless precision. Every time I pulled the trigger, he had my back. Every time he advanced, I was right there with him.
When the chaos finally settled, we stood alone once more. The air was thick with the scent of blood and metal, tinged with the essence of vengeance soaked in rain.
My father remained unchanged. He simply watched us—calm, calculating, unshaken.
I turned the gun back toward him.
“I should kill you,” I said, my voice trembling, low. “Right here. Right now.”
He met my gaze without flinching.
“Then do it.”
I stared at him, a storm brewing within.
Every scar. Every twisted memory. Every version of me that never had a chance to exist. But the trigger didn’t pull.
My finger hovered, my breath caught in my throat, my hand trembling. Because the person he molded would have done it without a second thought. But that wasn’t who I was anymore.
“I’m not you,” I whispered, the words breaking like glass.
His expression faltered—just for a heartbeat. I glimpsed something in his eyes. Disappointment? Maybe fear?
“You’ve gone soft,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“No,” I countered, my voice steady. “I’ve found something worth staying soft for.”
