AMARA'S POV
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I watch her from the doorway.
Selena — little lost girl — lying in her bed like a broken doll. Pale. Shaky. Staring at the ceiling like it holds answers.
> "She's not even that pretty."
I say it to no one.
But it doesn't matter.
I feel the lie burn my throat as I say it.
I step closer. Her back is turned. I could walk away. I could go back to pretending. But tonight, something dark is pulsing inside me.
> "Why do you get everything?"
My voice is quiet. Bitter. Rotten.
> "Mom and Dad always loved you more." "Zack looks at you like you're magic." "Even your nightmares are louder than mine."
I clench my fists. I hate how perfect she is in her weakness.
Then I see it — the mark. The one on her shoulder. It's glowing again.
And something... snaps in me.
> "What are you, Selena?"
She twitches in her sleep. A low whimper escapes her lips. I almost reach for her — and then I don't.
I leave the room and slam the door.
I don't go to bed.
I go to the attic.
And I open the old wooden chest I swore I'd never touch again.
Inside: books. About vampires. Symbols. Marks. Rituals.
And a name I've only whispered before…
Klade.
> "Maybe he was right all along…"
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Endnote 💬:
> Amara isn't curious anymore.
She's angry.
And anger leads to ruin.