Knock. Knock. Knock.
Gabriel blinked awake at the sound. He frowned, then called out, irritated. "Who is it?"
"It's me," his sister's voice came from the other side of the door.
"What is it?" His voice came out softer this time.
"It's time for dinner." The reply was brisk. "Hurry. Don't keep Mother waiting."
Gabriel rubbed his eyes and reached for his interface to check the time. "Oh." He sat up, surprised. 7:30 p.m. He had slept for over four hours.
He rose slowly, muscles protesting. "Okay," he answered flatly.
After a few deep breaths he forced himself out of bed. He needed a cold bath more than anything — not because he liked it, but because it helped dull the edges. The bathroom had no heater; the water shocked him awake and cleared his head. He dressed and left his room.
The dining hall was already full. All the Ashfords sat around the long table, voices a low hum of conversation. Gabriel crossed the room and took his place, saying nothing. He dug into his food without greeting anyone.
Delaney's fork clinked against her plate. "Have you gone mad? Do you not know how to show respect to your elders?" she snapped.
Gabriel looked up at her. For a moment he felt a violent urge to smash her face with his plate. He held back — then stared at her with a coldness that made the air feel thin.
Everyone at the table froze. They had expected him to shrink back in fear, to stammer and apologise. Instead something else pulsed through him — a quiet, dangerous hardness. A murderous intent, barely contained, hummed at his edges.
Delaney's insult flared into rage. "You trash!" she bellowed. "How dare you!"
Gabriel could not hold himself any longer. In the blink of an eye he picked up his plate and slammed it into her face.
The sound echoed. Silence slammed down on the hall. No one had expected that. No one moved fast enough to stop it.
He stood up, voice lost in the shock around him. He grabbed his phone from the table and stormed out, up the stairs, and into his room. The world narrowed to the pounding in his chest and the hot shame that followed the sudden violence.
He was done. He could not take it anymore. He promised himself—quietly, fiercely—that he would not endure it a moment longer.