THE STAIN OF CRIMSON
The morning light felt like an insult. It was too bright, too cheerful, pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the breakfast nook and illuminating every speck of dust in the air.
Runa sat at the massive table, her hands hidden in her lap so no one would see them shaking. She hadn't slept; every time she closed her eyes, she saw the trail of red on the white marble. She heard the wet thud of bodies hitting the floor.
In front of her sat a plate of Belgian waffles, topped with a generous ladle of thick strawberry syrup. The deep, viscous red pooled in the square indentations of the waffle, slowly dripping down the sides.
Runa felt a wave of nausea so violent she had to swallow hard to keep from gagging. It looked exactly like the blood from the night before—thick, dark, and spreading across a surface it didn't belong on.
She looked around the table, and her heart went cold.
Roman was reading a digital newspaper, sipping black coffee. Aurora was discussing the guest list for an upcoming charity gala with Althea, their voices calm and melodic. To them, the massacre in the hall hadn't been a life-altering trauma. It had been a chore. A bit of "sanitation" before bed.
Toni was the only one who looked slightly off, her usual bubbly chatter replaced by a quiet, focused attention on her bowl of yogurt. But even she was eating.
"You're staring, Runa," Jason's voice cut through her thoughts.
He was sitting across from her, looking irritatingly refreshed. He speared a piece of sausage with his fork and smirked. "If you don't like the waffles, the chef can make you something else. Though I personally find the color… appetizing."
Runa's eyes snapped to his. He knew. He was savoring the fact that she was haunted.
"I'm not hungry," she whispered, her voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.
"Eat," Althea said, not looking up from her tablet. "You're pale enough as it is. We have a busy afternoon, and I won't have you fainting because you're being dramatic about a few traitors."
Dramatic. The word rang in Runa's head like a bell. Five men were dead, their lives snuffed out in a hallway because of a "discrepancy," and to Althea, Runa's reaction was just a performance.
Eli, who had been silent until now, reached out. Without saying a word, she took the plate of waffles from in front of Runa and swapped it with her own plain, dry toast.
"The syrup is too sweet for most people in the morning," Eli said evenly, her blue eyes meeting Runa's for a split second. There was no pity in them—only a quiet, grounding acknowledgement. I know what you're seeing.
Runa gripped a piece of the dry toast. It was tasteless, like cardboard, but it wasn't red.
"Thank you," Runa breathed.
Roman finally lowered his tablet, his piercing gaze falling on Runa. The table went silent.
"Runa," he said, his voice a low, vibrating baritone. "The Vales do not hide who they are. You are here because your father thought he could play a game with us. Last night was simply the conclusion of a different game. Do not mistake our hospitality for softness."
He took a slow sip of his coffee. "In this house, you are safe from the world. But you are never safe from the rules. Do you understand?"
Runa looked at the table. She looked at the blood-red syrup on Eli's new plate. She looked at the exit, guarded by two men who hadn't moved an inch in an hour.
"I understand," she lied.
As the family began to rise and disperse, Runa realized the true horror of her situation. It wasn't just that the Vales were killers. It was that they were killers who could eat breakfast ten hours later without a second thought.
She wasn't just collateral in a financial debt. She was a witness in a house of ghosts. Every step she took on those marble floors would now feel like walking on graves.
As she stood to follow Toni out, Jason leaned in close, his voice a mere shadow of a sound. "The red suits you, Runa. It brings out the blue in your eyes. Get used to the sight of it. It's the only color that matters in this family."
She didn't answer. What does that even mean?She just walked faster, her eyes fixed on Eli's back, searching for the only person in the room who didn't seem to enjoy the taste of blood in the morning.