My father is dead.
They said it was his heart. That it gave out quietly in his sleep, as though guilt had finally pulled him under.
I didn't cry.
I only sat there, beside his cold hands, and whispered, "At least you won't have to see what comes next."
He loved us both—Rowan and me. But his love was a helpless kind, the kind that watches and regrets.
Now, he doesn't have to watch anymore.
He doesn't have to see me kill the woman who murdered the only person who ever made me feel safe.
Lady Seraphina will die.
That night, I slipped through the corridors of D'Arvis Manor like a shadow wearing my own face.
The servants were asleep. The guards? Paid to look away.
She was alone, reading in her room. Still dressed in black from the funeral, like she gave a damn.
I unsheathed my dagger. The same blade I trained with for years. The one I'd sharpened for this very night.
My hand didn't shake.
Not until the door opened.
And Rowan walked in.
⸻
I froze. Just for a second.
Because this wasn't just murder—it was matricide.
And he was her son.
Even if she never loved him. Even if she used him like a pawn and whispered poison into his ears... she was still his blood.
"Rowan," I said, voice low, almost pleading, "don't—"
But he didn't stop.
He didn't ask questions.
He slit her throat.
Quick. Silent. Like it meant nothing.
She gasped, clawed at him, eyes wide and full of a fear she never gave anyone else.
He didn't blink.
He just smiled—so gently.
Like he'd been waiting for this moment all his life.
⸻
I stared at him.
At the blood soaking into his sleeves. At the silence that followed.
"Why..." I breathed. "Why did you—"
He turned to me.
And that smile—
That same warm, protective smile he always wore when I was younger—
it stayed.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
"They always thought I loved power," he said softly, as if we were talking about the weather. "But it was never about that, Cael. Never about her. Never even about Father."
He stepped closer, and I took a step back.
"I loved you, the moment I saw you trembling behind Mira's skirt. So small. So angry. So beautiful in your grief."
"Stop," I whispered.
"You never noticed?" he asked, tilting his head. "All the things I gave you. All the people I silenced. I kept you safe. I watched you grow, and smile, and burn. You're perfect."
I ran.
⸻
I didn't look back.
Even as his voice echoed through the corridor.
"You can run, Caelan. But I always find what belongs to me."
⸻
I had planned everything for my own escape after the assassination. New clothes, stolen coin, a forged identity.
But now, I wasn't running from Lady Seraphina's guards.
I was running from my older brother.
From the man who tore open his mother's throat and smiled at me like it was a gift.
From the only person who ever made me feel safe... and turned out to be the thing I feared most.
I made it out.
For now.
But he's searching.
And I know Rowan.
He doesn't give up.