"Get out," I grit, directing my words at Sophie, who sits at the end of Idalia's feet.
She straightens, her eyes shifting to a crimson hue that unsettles me. They shouldn't be that color. It's my doing that they are.
"I know you're not speaking to—" she begins.
"Out!"
Her mouth snaps shut, eyes widening in disbelief. I've never addressed her with such force; she's clearly taken aback. Nevertheless, she complies, emitting a small scoff as she closes the door behind her.
I strain to hear the faint sounds of the others settling down on the opposite side, unmistakably not leaving. I swear I can almost feel my heart race in my chest, threatening to break free. They're too close, their presence suffocating. I feel as though I'm on the verge of being consumed whole by their proximity.
I departed from Wrath without offering any explanation, leaving him bewildered as ever. I relished the sight of his widened eyes, filled with fear, his lips trembling, and his body tense. Watching his stoic facade crumble was utterly exhilarating.
My gaze meets Aren's, finding his eyes already fixed on me, concern etched across his features. I'm grateful that he didn't attempt to fight my battle on my behalf. Instead, he respected my agency, checking in before intervening. I value him for refraining from getting involved unnecessarily.
I notice his hand clasping Idalia's, his body trembling slightly from the shock. Yet, there's a raw excitement gleaming in his eyes. He's overjoyed. He's regained his sister. It brings a sense of happiness to me as well, though it's difficult to express it after everything we've been through. All I manage to do is press a gentle kiss to his forehead before crawling over Idalia and sinking into the softness of the bed.
"Are you okay?" he whispers, his gaze fixed on me as I settle into the corner.
"Never better," I retort lightly, a lazy smile playing on my lips.
"Avalyn..."
"I just want to sleep," I murmur, feeling the weariness creeping over me.
After that, I have no energy left. I'm completely drained.
"Don't let anyone in," I instruct him, watching as he nods in understanding before my eyelids flutter closed.
I don't get much rest, however. I'm abruptly jolted awake after what feels like only a few hours, hands gripping my throat tightly, cutting off my air supply. Panic sets in as I struggle to breathe, my eyes frantically searching for Aren. I find him on the other side of the bed, seemingly asleep, his breathing steady. But Idalia should be there, not on top of me, choking me.
With desperation coursing through me, my hands shoot up, fingers digging into her face, while the other grasps at her hair, trying to wrench her off. But no sound escapes my lips; my airways are entirely obstructed. If she doesn't relent, she's about to render me unconscious again, though I fear that's not her intent. The thought grips me with terror— she might actually be trying to kill me.
With a split-second decision, I opt against trying to physically remove her. Instead, I deliver a swift blow to Aren's side, causing his eyes to snap open in alarm as he processes the scene before him. Reacting quickly, he practically springs to his feet, hands seizing her by the top and forcefully yanking her back. Despite his efforts, she barely budges, her grip still tight around my throat.
"You damn bitch," she spits out venomously. "How dare you take advantage of my little brother!"
So, she does recall what she witnessed before collapsing to the floor? How unfortunate for me.
Before I can fully grasp the situation, the room is suddenly filled with commotion as everyone rushes in. Among them, I spot Wrath first, his expression devoid of concern for Idalia's well-being as he seizes her with enough force to potentially snap her in half. He yanks her off of me and onto the floor, swiftly taking control of the situation.
Gasping for air, I choke out a few ragged breaths, the fear gripping me that she might have molded my throat to the point where breathing becomes impossible. But gradually, I manage to regain control of my breathing, forcefully pushing away the terrifying notion.
"I'll kill you!" she roars defiantly, struggling against all three guys now, her rage palpable. Meanwhile, Sophie stands in the doorway, a wide, sinister smile stretching across her lips, seemingly reveling in the chaos.
"What, not interested in being sisters?" I snap back, rolling my eyes and rubbing at my raw throat, trying to alleviate the discomfort.
"Idalia, she didn't do anything," Aren attempts to defend me, but I decide to press the issue further.
"Oh, but he sure did a lot to me," I retort sharply, meeting Aren's gaze as he holds Idalia firmly to prevent her from lashing out again.
"Avalyn!" he barks in disapproval, his frustration evident.
"And I'm about to do a lot more, but of the less enjoyable kind," Idalia counters defiantly.
"Idalia!" Aren's tone is stern.
"Your brother is a grown man. He has two centuries on me. If anything, it's the other way around," I snicker, dripping with sarcasm.
Aren's eyes widen with concern, evidently not catching the sarcasm. "Wait, what? No, I—"
Idalia and I seem to synchronize our responses, both scoffing at his obliviousness. "Joking," I murmur, quickly clarifying before any misunderstanding can escalate.
"Looks like I'll be needing some thorough explanations," she hisses, her gaze piercing as she pushes their hands off of her. Swiftly, she shifts her attention to Aren, her hands instinctively reaching for his face, as though seeking out any sign of harm. "Are you alright? Any injuries? She hasn't laid a finger on you, has she?"
"Oh, for fucks sake," I mutter, frustrated by the notion that I've somehow endangered her beloved brother.
"I'm fine," he reassures her sheepishly, though a genuine smile graces his lips. "Av has been looking after me wonderfully."
I flinch, sensing his inadvertent slip of words and fearing Idalia might misinterpret them. Surprisingly, she chooses to remain silent. "Yeah? That's good," she replies with a smile, enveloping him in her embrace. "Your big sister has missed you more than words can express, bubs."
Cute.
The nickname unexpectedly humanizes her, reminding me that beneath her tough exterior, she's just a girl fiercely determined to reunite with her brother. Maybe now that she has him back, she'll soften up a bit.
Despite her recent attempt on my life, I'm oddly relieved that she's awake. There's a strange comfort in having her presence here, almost as if I've gained an unexpected ally— though I'm sure she'd vehemently deny it, especially after catching me with her brother. Surprisingly, I feel a closer connection to her now than I do to my old friends. Having her by my side makes me feel less isolated— safer in the presence of my past.
"Av? You alright, little bird?" Cierien's voice breaks through, concern evident in his tone.
"Ew," I scoff, wrinkling my nose as he comes closer. "Never call me that again. Seriously, talk about giving me the ick."
I stand up, departing Idalia's room and making my way to mine. As I pass Cierien, I catch a fleeting glimpse of sadness on his face, but I force myself to ignore the twinge of empathy I feel. However, as I step into my room, my thoughts are interrupted. Instantly, I sense that someone has been in here. The bed is disheveled, indicating it's been slept in. Clothes lie strewn on the floor, and my belongings on the desk and nightstand have been disturbed.
"Who the fuck...?" I mutter, feeling a surge of frustration well up within me.
"Hope you don't mind, but we took over your bedroom, sweetheart," Wrath declares with a smug grin, his eyes casually surveying the room.
The audacity of their actions— sleeping in my bed and rummaging through my belongings— ignites a fiery rage within me. Yet, I force myself to take a deep breath, knowing it's too early for confrontation. However, with each word he utters, I feel the simmering anger inside me threatening to boil over.
"Gonna tell us what's happened over the last year and a half? Or, possibly what the fuck you were talking about last night?" Wrath demands, his tone brusque and impatient, clearly expecting an explanation.
"You don't need to tell us anything right now, Av," Cierien says, avoiding the nickname which sends a hint of satisfaction through me. "We're here when you're ready."
"Like hell," Wrath grits out. "You'll explain yourself, now."
Opposites in temperament, yet equally adept at manipulation and lethal in their own ways, Wrath remains the fiery, impulsive one, while Cierien maintains the façade of the gentle, compassionate soul. Their contrasting personas only serve to deepen the sting of their betrayal, highlighting the complexity of their deceit. Despite their differences, the pain they've caused cuts equally deep.
With the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air, I realize I have a lot to explain, particularly after revealing the bombshell about Wrath's mother being alive. Today seems as good a day as any to lay it all out.
"Yes, yes, I'll explain everything," I respond casually, though inwardly bracing myself. "Just let me get dressed first."
Wrath remains rooted in place, blocking the doorway with his imposing presence, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling blankness. It's a deliberate tactic, an attempt to unsettle me in my own home. But I'm wise to his tricks now; I've seen this behavior from him before. However, he won't succeed in rattling me again.
Maintaining a composed demeanor, I casually pull my shirt over my head, offering him a saccharine smile as I discard my bottoms. With deliberate movements, I turn away to select my outfit, taking my time. Finally dressed, I pivot to face him, observing the telltale signs of his frustration: flushed cheeks, clenched jaw, narrowed eyes. Yet, beneath the facade of irritation, I detect a lingering sense of longing in his gaze, stirring a tumult of emotions within me.
I push aside the swirling emotions and stride past Wrath, entering the living room where Idalia and Sophie await my explanation. Sensing the weight of their anticipation, I pause by the fridge, grabbing a water to quench the dryness in my throat. Nerves threaten to overtake me, but I refuse to let them show.
"Oh, where to start?" I mumble to myself, contemplating as I move to take a seat next to Aren.
However, before I can settle in, Idalia's sharp words freeze me in place. "Sit next to my brother and I'll rip out your throat."
"Idalia, don't be—" Aren begins, but his sister interrupts him without hesitation.
"Do not argue, Aren," Idalia asserts firmly.
I can't help but chuckle at their sibling dynamic. "I won't be able to explain much without vocal cords," I remark lightly, opting for peace as I settle at the opposite end of the seating area.
With Sophie positioned against the wall and Cierien and Wrath flanking Idalia on the other side, all eyes are on me, leaving me feeling incredibly exposed and vulnerable. Despite the anxiety bubbling within me, I maintain a facade of composure, lifting my chin defiantly as I address the group.
"I'm sure Idalia has already filled you in on some details," I begin, striving to keep my voice steady.
"Barely," Sophie interjects with a roll of her eyes, her frustration evident.
Cierien's frown deepens as he speaks next. "She told us about your transformation— how your manipulated blood triggered it. We understand you chose to align with her, but beyond that..."
Wrath's inquiry is blunt and direct. "Why did you leave?" his voice carries a tone of firmness.
Idalia scoffs, her expression adorned with a dramatic eye roll. "That's a silly and irrelevant question. She obviously left because of what you all did. Don't force her to explain the betrayal you imposed upon her," she declares pointedly.
Our gazes lock for a moment, and I nod in silent appreciation for Idalia's defense, even though she quickly averts her eyes. "She's right. I don't owe either of you an explanation," I assert, before turning my attention to Sophie. "But if you ever want to hear my side of the story, I owe you that much. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here to explain."
Sophie's silent acknowledgment speaks volumes; she's not ready to hear my explanation, and perhaps may never be. I'll honor her choice and respect her boundaries.
"Now, let's focus on what actually matters," Idalia interjects impatiently, her frustration palpable. "What happened after you were taken?" she demands, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"I woke up in a cell—" I begin to explain, but Idalia interrupts me sharply.
"No, really?" she presses impatiently, her words filled with sarcasm. "We know that, Avalyn. How did you meet my brother and es—"
"Idalia!" Aren snarls, the intensity of his voice causing both of us to flinch.
Idalia's eyes widen as they meet her brother's, a hint of surprise mingling with the shock. Even I'm taken aback by the sudden change in his tone. "You ask her to explain, yet you keep cutting her off. Stop speaking over her... please," Aren's voice softens, the last word carrying a hint of remorse for snapping at his sister.
He then looks to me, nodding. "Take your time, Av."
The fluttering of butterflies in my stomach is a welcomed sensation. It's reassuring to have someone standing up for me, to know that I'm not alone, especially in Aren's presence. Right now, he's my safety net, someone I can rely on. I find comfort in the knowledge that he won't let anything bad happen to me. With him by my side, I feel secure, knowing I have someone to lean on if necessary.
"I woke up in a cell," I repeat, my voice steady. "Aren's cell was beside mine, and there was another woman across from me. It didn't take me long to realize who both of them were."
"My mother is—"
"Alive," I interject Wrath firmly, leaving no room for doubt or further questioning.
I notice a flicker of vulnerability cross Wrath's usually composed demeanor, a brief faltering before he quickly regains his composure, steeling himself against any further emotional display. Despite his efforts to conceal it, I can sense the undercurrent of panic swirling beneath the surface. Part of me almost feels sorry for him... almost.
"In this facility, they only kept vampires they deemed special. We're all part of the three families who founded WWA— the Adairs, Wellingtons, and Wrathtons," I explain.
"No, my mother didn't found anything," Wrath argues.
"No, but her parents did. I'll leave her to explain the rest, but that's all I can say on that right now," I inform him, acknowledging his objection while maintaining my resolve.
Despite any desire I may have to inflict emotional pain on him, I know it's not my place to divulge the truth about the despicable man who is his father. I refuse to stoop to that level; I'm not a monster. Some lines I simply won't cross, no matter how deeply he may have hurt me. It's his mother's responsibility to explain, not mine.
"They experimented with my blood, eventually discovering a method to convert smaller portions into the cure. It's not as effective as they hoped— it only works on vampires turned within the last seventy years or so. Still, it worked. When I left, I took Aren with me, along with the remaining vials and all the data proving the cure's success. The man in charge was due to arrive the next morning, so I disposed of both doctors and made my escape. Unfortunately, I couldn't take Jeannette with me," I conclude, observing Wrath as his jaw clenches in response.
"And why didn't you contact me right away?" Idalia demands, her irritation evident in her tone.
"Perhaps if I had my phone, then I would have," I retort, watching as her mouth forms an 'o' in realization, recalling that she took it when she abandoned me.
Wrath's panic begins to show, his words stumbling out in disbelief. "You're wrong. That wasn't my mother. My mother—"
"Wrath, it was her," I assert firmly, cutting through his protests.
"How do you know? It could have been anyone," he counters.
"She spoke of you with great affection. She misses you terribly. She was genuinely pleased to hear that you still play the piano," I explain, hoping to quell his doubts.
"She looks just like you," Aren begins, a soft smile gracing his features. "You have the same eyes—"
"I don't want to hear a single word from you, kid," Wrath interjects sharply, his tone laced with hostility as he refuses to meet Aren's gaze.
"Excuse me?" Aren chuckles, a playful smile forming on his lips, though I can discern the simmering anger behind his eyes. It's becoming evident that despite his gentle demeanor, Aren possesses a formidable side.
Idalia moves to defend him, but I intervene before she can speak. "He's just trying to be kind, Wrath. Aren spent years with your mother. And it's true, she does bear a striking resemblance to you, except for the blonde hair."
As my words bring tears to his eyes, instead of the satisfaction I anticipated, I feel a pang of empathy, an inexplicable urge to comfort him. It frustrates me that he still holds this power over me. I observe Cierien's attempt to console him, but he shrugs off the gesture, retreating to my room alone. I choose to give him the space he needs, though I can't shake off the irritation of him occupying my personal space. However, I keep my annoyance to myself, unwilling to add to the tension.
Cierien shoots me a meaningful look, and I quickly avert my gaze, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. Moments later, he follows after Wrath, closing himself inside my room as well. Left alone in the living room, I can't help but wonder what conversations are unfolding behind that closed door. I don't listen in though, no matter how badly I wish to.
"I still don't understand," Sophie begins, her voice tinged with confusion. "Why would you go to Idalia of all people? Why didn't you come to me? You could have reached out to me without involving them directly."
"I didn't want to. I'm sorry."
"You mean to say, you didn't want to tell me, your best friend, that you were alive?" Sophie seeks clarification.
"Yes," I admit, the weight of my confession heavy in the air. "I understand that's not what you wanted to hear, and I know it's terrible. But when I realized I had the chance to leave everything behind and start anew, I felt a sense of relief. For once in my life, I needed to be selfish. I needed to run."
"Right into the arms of the woman who murdered me?" Sophie fires back, disbelief evident in her expression.
"Oh, please," Idalia snorts dismissively. "Don't be dramatic."
"Dramatic?" Sophie snaps back, her voice tinged with anger. "You ruined my life. My supposed best friend is living with the woman who destroyed me, but that's dramatic?"
I don't acknowledge the irony of Sophie's words; she has every right to be upset with me. I remain silent, allowing her to express her frustrations. However, Idalia, growing impatient, decides she's had enough.
"I ruined you?" Idalia reiterates, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "How hypocritical can you be?"
Before Sophie can respond, Idalia presses on. "How can you fault Avalyn for living with me when you're living with the men who hurt her?" she challenges. "But, you know what, that's between the two of you. I just hope you realize the irony of your words. But ruin you? I didn't ruin anything. Your life was so utterly mundane— a shitty little condo, might I add, that your best friend bought for you, with nothing to your name. Leeching off your only friend because you have no mommy and daddy. Drinking your feelings of boredom and loneliness away anytime you weren't at work, which was often because you couldn't afford to live a life that was worth something. Partying every weekend and sleeping with copious amounts of women because it's the only time you ever felt loved— because no one actually loves you, Sophie. You were boring— you were nothing. I made you interesting."
"Stop it, none of that is true. And she never did that— she didn't leech," I interject, my voice firm as I defend my best friend.
Sophie never took advantage of my wealth. She asked for little things here and there, but always with consideration. She never requested anything she knew would strain my finances. Sophie had been independent her whole life; it was me who offered to lease her that condo. I was the one who offered to buy her clothes. She never once leeched off me.
Idalia remains undeterred by my words. "I gave your life meaning. I provided you with the means to build a life worth living. I gave you a fresh start, one where you didn't have to depend on anyone else. I helped you become better. If you can't see that, then that's your own damn fault. Not mine, and certainly not Avalyn's."
With her final words, Idalia departs, gesturing for Aren to follow her. She freezes momentarily when Aren pauses to check in with me, a habitual gesture I've come to appreciate. I nod in affirmation, and he follows after her without hesitation. Idalia shoots me a glare before disappearing into her room, with Aren in tow.
I rise to my feet, hoping Sophie will allow me to speak, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. However, I'm surprised by the absence of anger in her tone as she speaks. "She's right," she says softly.
"What? No—" I start to protest, but she continues.
"I'm not talking about that," Sophie interrupts sternly. "I have, without a doubt, been a good friend to you. I never once took advantage of your wealth, and we both know that."
Agreeing with her assessment, I nod in acknowledgment. "Of course, everything was offered by me. Hell, it was practically forced," I admit, recognizing the truth in her words.
Sophie offers me a sad smile, her expression tinged with understanding. "But she's right. I'm being hypocritical. Not about the fact that you left, or how bad of a friend you've been, but I don't get to fault you for living with her. I can only imagine what you felt when you had to crawl from that..." she trails off, unable to finish the thought. "You ran to her, and while that upsets me, I ran to them."
Them. Cierien and Wrath.
We both had to turn to people we would rather not have. We did what we did to survive. We can agree and understand that.
"I'm still sorry. I always will be," I whisper remorsefully. "I'm sorry for turning to Idalia. She hurt you. I'll never forgive her for that."
"As am I," Sophie responds, catching me off guard. "I'm sorry for turning to the men who hurt you. I didn't know what else to do."
"I don't blame you for it," I reassure her. "You did what you had to do to survive."
"So did you. Whether I like it or not," Sophie concedes, acknowledging the harsh reality of our circumstances.
"Truce?" I offer tentatively, extending my hand with a soft chuckle, though nervousness courses through me.
Sophie rolls her lips into a line, nodding softly, but she doesn't take my hand. I drop it awkwardly, waiting for her to speak.
"I don't know how to be your friend right now," she admits, her words laden with uncertainty.
I understand what she's not saying, the unspoken message lingering between us. She doesn't know if she can ever be my friend again. As painful as it is, I have to accept that reality. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen," I say, tears welling in my eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of our fractured friendship.
We were supposed to escape together— run away to New York and never look back. We were supposed to face everything together, not apart, now separated by our own choices and circumstances.
"Nothing ever happens the way you want it to. But the universe always has a plan, Lenny."
"I'm sorry," I murmur once again, fearing I may never regain the friendship I cherish.
"I'm going to go check on Wrath," Sophie announces, sparing me one last sorrow-filled glance before disappearing behind my door.
Feeling overwhelmed with uncertainty and helplessness, I sink back onto the couch, unsure of what to do with myself. I've never felt so lost.
//
i was gonna make yall wait but I'm too excited :p
thank you for reading :)))