“You only say that because Death stopped you.” Her mouth twists. “Funny how the revelation showed up right after you lost the option.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“It is exactly what happened. I felt your bloodlust, Skye. For years. You wanted him erased from existence. You would have done it yourself if no one had stepped in.” She takes a step closer. “And now you’ve got your second chance, your love, your warm bed, your new life, and you’ve decided the rest of us should just swallow it.”
“I’m not telling you to swallow it. I’m telling you the thing you’re feeding on is poison.”
She scoffs. “Poetic.”
“It’s the truth. You’re not looking for justice. You’re looking for permission. You’re waiting for someone else’s death to give you the right to stop hurting. And it won’t. Even if I killed them both tonight, you’d wake up tomorrow still carrying everything you carry now. You know that.”
Her power surges. I feel it pressing against the wards like heat through glass.
“Don’t tell me what I know.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
She doesn’t.
I press it.
“Your friends, Rhea. What about them.”
Her expression changes. It’s slight but I catch it.
“Don’t,” she says.
“They follow you. They trust you. And right now you are telling them that what was done to them is all they are. That the only thing left for them is to watch two people bleed.”
“I’m telling them the truth.”
“You’re telling them your version of it. And you’re not even asking whether they want something else.”
Her eyes flash.
“You don’t know what they lost.”
“No. I don’t. But neither do you. Not really. Because you decided what their healing looks like before any of them got to speak.”
That lands.
I see it hit her, and I see her push it away.
“They relive it every day,” she says. Lower now. “Every single day. They were stripped of everything.”
“I know.”
“You don’t.” Her voice cracks at the edge. “You got choices. You got time. You got to fall in love. They got nothing.”
“And killing two people gives them what, exactly? What do they get after that? Tell me what happens next.”
She goes still.
“What happened to me doesn’t cancel out what happened to them,” I say. “But it proves the worst moment of someone’s life doesn’t have to be the last word. They deserve the chance to find that out for themselves. You are taking that from them.”
Her expression locks down. A door slamming shut.
“Stop,” she says.
