Look away, Lillian. Your sweet sister is too far gone now.
THE PAST
AMELIA’S BREAKING POINT
My skull throbbed like a war drum, each pulse matching the frantic beat in my chest as consciousness crept back in. Warm weight pressed against me.
Dante, sprawled on his side, his steady snores a low rumble in the hush.
Pale morning light snuck through the gaps in the curtains, painting gold streaks across the rumpled sheets. A twinge of shame flickered in my gut, but I shoved it down.
Caiden needed this lesson in pain. He had to learn, the way I’d learned, how heartbreak carves hollows into your bones. All I craved was for him to taste the emptiness I’d carried since Lillian died.
Her absence loomed behind my eyelids, a velvet shadow that wouldn’t lift. Lillian’s laughter was buried six feet under, her bright eyes cold in the earth. Revenge was the only fuel left in me.
I wanted Caiden to writhe in hurt. Would she nod, proud of my fury, or turn away in disappointment? I’d never know. The ache in my chest gnawed like a starving beast, hollowing me out from the inside.
A rap at the door shattered the quiet. Footsteps down the hall. A grin slithered over my lips.
Last night, while Dante drifted into dreams, I’d rifled through his phone and sent Caiden a text:Come by in the morning.
And he marched right into my trap.
“Dante! Wake up, man!” The voice thundered down the hall. My heart hammered as the footsteps thundered closer, pausing at the door. It swung open on creaking hinges, and there he stood.
Caiden, face pale, eyes blazing.
Dante shifted beside me, hair tousled, cheeks sunken with sleep. He yawned, stretching an arm overhead. “Hey, Caiden… What’s up?” His words were soft, drowsy.
Caiden’s voice cut the air like shattered glass. “What the fuck, dude?” He strode in, shoulders rigid, nostrils flaring. The room felt smaller all of a sudden, air thickening with his anger.
A sliver of doubt slashed through me. My sister was dead. And I was baiting someone for sport. What would Lillian say if she saw this? A stubborn fly of guilt buzzed at my temples, but I kept it locked down.
Dante rubbed his eyes, sliding off the mattress and tugging on boxers. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Amelia just needed company. She’s been through hell.”
His voice was calm, too calm.
Caiden’s lips curled with contempt. “I don’t give a shit about what Amelia needs. She can rot for all I care. I can’t believe you’d sleep with that thing.”
The word “thing” landed harshly. Apparently I’m not even a human in his eyes.
Cold rage pooled inside of me.
Dante’s jaw clenched. “Chill out, Caiden. That’s fucked up. Amelia’s not a thing, she’s a person. A victim.” His tone was sharp, protective.
Caiden turned his glare on me, eyes black as tar. “And you? You’ve got nothing to say? Poor little Amelia too weak to fight back? You’re a coward, just like your whore of a sister.” His words slashed into me, each syllable coated in venom.
Lillian lay under the ground—murdered—and here he was, mocking her.
Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t hold his hateful stare.
My throat tightened, every breath tasting like ash. I wanted to scream, to throw myself at him, to make him feel my sorrow.
Then came the crack. Dante’s fist snapped forward, meetingCaiden’s jaw with a brutal pop. Caiden sagged to the floor, his hand pressed to his cheek, shock flickering across his features. Dante stood over him, knuckles red, chest heaving.
“What the fuck, Dante!” Caiden shrieked, half-crouched, panic in his tone.
“Don’t you ever talk to her that way,” Dante snarled, spine rigid with fury.
