Audrey’s guts twisted.
“Once you took control of the knife,” Sophia said quietly, “you drove it into your father.”
Tears streamed hot and unceasing down Audrey’s cheeks. It was too much to absorb. Her father’s grim expression flashed through her mind before the words fully landed. The shape of his body. The impossible thought of the knife in her own control. The old memory shifted so violently that it made her feel sick.
“It was an accident,” Sophia added. “But it still killed him.”
Still, Audrey couldn’t speak.
“Then you struck at me and slit Cary’s throat,” Sophia said. “I could feel the heat in you. Fire. Then I realized what you really were. And I chose. No one should have that power.”
Audrey’s vision tunneled. In that instance, all she could hear was blood beating inside her ears. Her knees threatened to buckle.
She had killed her father.
She had nearly killed her sister.
She believed her mother. She’d been inside her head, sensed the truth of it all. The scream ripped out of her before she could swallow it—a sound raw and animal, agony and rage twisting together. Underneath the grief, something else, cold and unbreakable, took root.
A thin, unbreakable line.
Her father would not have wanted her to die here for someone else’s war. He would have wanted her to live, to crawl out of the wreckage.
“Me dying is not your decision,” Audrey whispered, her emotions cold and distant. Everything came into focus. Sophiawasn’t a tragic soldier anymore—she was a threat. Prison wasn’t enough for her. Sophia belonged in the ground, and whatever version of Audrey had been pleading a moment ago was gone.
An empty sound rose in Audrey’s throat, inhuman and primal. “I’m going to make you suffer,” she said, calm and cold. “Before I tear you apart.”
This voice didn’t sound like hers. It sounded empty. Otherworldly.
The blade lashed toward Audrey, slicing through her shirt. A sting flared across her flanks as it nicked skin.
Before it could drive deeper, something invisible tossed it off course.
The knife hit the road with a clatter.
Power boomed through the lot like a clap of thunder, knocking Audrey off her feet. She hit the ground hard, her breath leaving her in a grunt. Blinking through the disorientation, she watched Mihail’s hand extended toward her, fingers still raised.
He’d stopped it. He’d saved her.
Not for her sake. For his.
Guilt flashed across her mother’s face.
Audrey hated her for it.
Rage poured through her so fast it made her feel sick. Her mother had just tried to kill her again—and the only thing between Audrey and a second, successful execution was the terrorist who wanted to own her. Another feral sound clawed out of Audrey’s throat. Power came free before she could stop it, and the switchblade tore off the pavement.
Audrey went for it—but not fast enough, not cleanly enough. The blade buried itself in between Sophia’s ribs with a dull, final sound.
At first, nothing happened.
Sophia looked down at the black metal jutting from her. Her eyes lifted back to Audrey. She staggered, her legs tangling,then collapsed. Blood spread fast, a dark halo soaking into the concrete.
Her mother didn’t move again.
The alley knew it before Audrey did—she was dead.
Relief and horror warred in Audrey’s veins. There should have been more, yet all she felt was its absence. The part of her that had needed her mother had already burned away. She peered at her own hands, numb. They were still raised. Slowly, she lowered them.
