Vera was frozen for a breath, her breath coming in quick bursts as if she had just ran a marathon, fingers still locked around the knife's hilt buried in her brother's side.
"You were always going to be a problem," she whispered, her face devoid of even the faintest flicker of remorse as she stabbed him even deeper.
Then Patrick staggered backward, one hand clamped over the wound as blood seeped through his fingers. His eyes were wide with disbelief, as if his mind refused to accept that it was his sister who had done this. Then his knees buckled.
Right at that moment, footsteps thundered down the corridor.
"No!"
The scream that rent through the space was as deafening as that as a wailing banshee.
It was Moira. Their mother.
She rushed forward, dropping to her knees just in time to catch Patrick as his strength gave out completely. He collapsed into her arms, his blood soaking into her clothes as she pressed her hands desperately against his wound.
