Chapter Title: A Little Blood Changes Nothing.
Notice..
This is a work of fiction. It should be noted that event and characters are not real so if some situation and statement feel real then it all purely coincidental .
.....
"Mr. Laurel… What am I even saying?" she scoffed, her voice sharp and cold. "You don't deserve that name."
She turned from him with disdain, arms folded like a queen dismissing a beggar.
"Do you really expect me to answer that question?"
He opened his mouth, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"I—"
"Spare me," she cut in sharply. "I want to rest. Kindly exit my room."
She walked to her bed and laid down without looking at him again. He stood there, rooted in silence, until he forced out a weak sentence. "Then… I'll come back tomorrow."
A dark smirk pulled at her lips. "Don't bother," she muttered without turning. "This might be the last time you see me."
That made him freeze. He turned back sharply, his voice rising with urgency.
"What do you mean by that?"
Still, she said nothing.
"Are you trying to escape?"
Her silence was a weapon. He clenched his fists. "Anna!" he snapped, the stress catching in his throat. A violent cough followed red blooming on his palm. But still, she didn't turn.
He stood there, broken.
"What happened to you…?"
She finally spoke, her voice a dagger in the quiet. "Stop asking what happened to me… when you already know what happened."
The weight of those words crushed whatever illusion he was still holding onto. Shame washed over his face. Her back remained to him unforgiving, unmoved.
Defeated, Liam stepped back, gripping his chest as though her words had cut deeper than any blade.
"Then I'll leave you be," he said quietly, turning toward the door, the sound of his footsteps the only sign he was still standing.
The door closed. And she didn't even flinch.
The door clicked shut, leaving only silence.
Annalisa remained still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to feel… until something caught her eye.
A dark smear of red on the polished floor. Blood. It was his blood. For a brief second, something stirred in her chest. A pang of… something. Was it regret? Or sadness?she couldn't tell exactly.
She blinked and it was gone. Her eyes turned cold again, empty, and calculating as it was before. She sat up slowly, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and stared at the spot.
"He chose his side five years ago," she murmured to herself.
"A little blood doesn't change the past."
And just like that, the flicker of emotion disappeared, it was swallowed whole by the storm inside her.
Phase two would begin soon, and this time, there would be no room for mercy. She laid back on her bed motionless, but sleep never came.
Liam's words echoed relentlessly in her mind:
"There's something coming. Something worse than before."
"And whether you hate me or not… I can't face it without you."
Her jaw clenched. What was coming?
Did it have anything to do with the Dark Council. The same name whispered by the dying man?
Flashback.
"It's the Dark Council."
"We were tasked to bring you… her… and Lady Laurel… dead or alive."
"We thought it'd be easier to take you all in alive, but… it went wrong when you started killing…"
Her brows furrowed as she remembered what he had said. Why would anyone go to such extremes for a mother and her daughters?
She'd spent the last few years trying to unravel the mystery of this so-called council. Most of what she found was scattered, vague, insignificant on their own. But one thing had become clear: her mother, Lady Laurel, had ties to them. Dangerous ties.
That was why she'd asked Damien to dig deeper. To find the truth she couldn't reach from within these walls.
Still… what could be worse than what she'd already endured? She scoffed quietly and stared up at the cracked ceiling.
"Something worse?" She had already walked through hell.
Watched her world collapse.
Held her sister as she bled out in her arms.
What could possibly be worse than that?
And yet… she remembered Liam's eyes. That fear. That desperation.
He wasn't faking it. Not even Liam could pretend that well.
If he's right…She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, then she was not just running from the past anymore.
She'd have to walk straight into the storm.
But forgiveness?No. Not now. Not ever, she would never forgive him.
Her gaze darkened, lips curling into the faintest, deadliest smirk.
"If something's coming… let it come. I've already died once."
This time, she wouldn't run. She wouldn't hide. This time, she'd be the one doing the killing.
To Be Continued