This was a pathetic way to go.
Flat on his back.
Dependent.
Weak.
I folded my arms across my chest and looked down at him.
“You look tired,” I said, and it wasn’t kind.
It was the truth.
His eyes searched my face like he was trying to find something. Forgiveness maybe.
Comfort.
He was too late for both.
“I won’t be here much longer,” he whispered.
I tilted my head slightly.
“I know.”
His hand twitched against the blanket like he wanted to reach for me, but didn’t have the strength.
“Everything… is in place,” he continued. “Ares… will lead. I made sure of it.”
A small smirk touched my lips.
“You didn’t make him anything. He became that on his own.”
That part mattered to me.
Marcel didn’t build Ares.
He survived him.
There was a difference.
Marcel’s breathing grew heavier, more labored.
“I did what I thought was best… for this family.”
I let out a soft exhale through my nose.
I stepped closer until I was right beside him now. Close enough for him to really see me.
“No,” I said, voice calm but firm. “You did what was best for you.”
His eyes flickered.
I leaned down slightly, just enough so my words didn’t have to travel far.
“You built this family on fear,” I continued. “On control. On secrets.”
My gaze didn’t waver.
