Pak… Pak…
Troy slapped Therese twice, once on each cheek. The sound echoed in the courtyard like a cruel drumbeat.
Tara's head snapped toward the noise. Her blood turned cold.
Therese was on her knees, clutching her face as tears streaked through the red bloom of fresh bruises. Her voice shook as she begged.
"Father, please stop… I beg you. I did what you told me to do," she pleaded.
Troy stood over her with a ledger in one hand and disgust etched on his face.
"She disobeyed me," he said flatly as Tara stormed forward. "Like mother, like daughter."
The insult slid off Tara's skin, but the sight of her daughter bruised was unbearable.
"That's enough. You will not lay hands on us again," Tara declared, her voice like iron.
Troy's lip curled. He lifted his hand toward her. "Take this!"
But when he swung, she moved. The slap missed.
And with that, something ancient stirred in her blood.
