Chapter 5

I backed away, my heels clicking sharply on the marble. My breath was coming in ragged gasps. Every time I inhaled, I could taste him—cold ozone and ancient dust. "I didn't ask for this. I asked for power, not to be your puppet."

"Puppet?" A sudden, freezing weight pressed against my back. Before I could scream, Cain was there. Not a reflection, but a physical presence, his chest flush against my shoulder blades. He didn't touch me with his hands, but his aura wrapped around me like a shroud, cutting off the air. "You’re the one who signed the pact in blood, little bird. You’re the battery. I’m just the one plugging in."

I tried to twist away, but he shifted, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. "Now, look at Lucas. He’s still shaking. Don't you want to finish it?"

I looked. Lucas was standing five feet away, his face a mask of pale horror. He was trying to look arrogant, but his hands were trembling so hard the wine glass in his grip was rattling.

"You're a freak, Ella," Lucas spat, though his voice cracked. "Whatever black magic you crawled out of the Abyss with, it won't save you. My father will have your head for this stunt."

"Your father?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. I could feel Cain’s power pulsing in my veins, a dark current that wanted to burst through my skin. "He's the one who threw me away like trash. I think it's time the trash took itself out."

"Enough talk," Cain whispered, his voice a command that vibrated through my spine. "Feed me, Ella. Give me a spark, and I'll show you what chaos actually looks like."

I didn't want to. Every instinct told me to run. But the hunger was there—not his, but mine. A starving, feral need to see Lucas crawl. I closed my eyes and pushed. I didn't think; I just shoved every ounce of my hatred, my betrayal, and my sheer will into that void in my soul where Cain resided.

*Slam.*

It felt like a dam breaking inside my ribs. A rush of heat, blacker than midnight, surged from my core, through my arms, and exploded outward.

"What the hell—" Lucas started, but he never finished the sentence.

Shadows erupted from the floor like obsidian spears. They didn't just move; they hunted. One whipped around Lucas’s ankles, jerking him off his feet with a sickening thud. He hit the marble hard, the wine glass shattering across his cheek.

"Get off me!" Lucas screamed, clawing at the smoke-like tendrils. "Guards! Someone help me!"

I stepped forward, the air around me shimmering with a distorted, oily haze. I felt light. Too light. Like I was floating and drowning at the same time.

"Help isn't coming, Lucas," I said, my voice sounding strange, layered with a metallic echo. "Do you remember the Void? The way the silence eats you alive?"

"You're insane!" he shrieked.

"I'm not the one on the floor," I countered.

Cain’s laughter echoed in my mind, a predatory sound that made me shiver. "More, Ella. Push harder. Let it burn."

I clenched my fist. I imagined the moment Lucas had looked at me with that smug smile while he signed the papers to strip my inheritance. I felt the power respond, a violent surge that made my fingertips glow with a dim, violet light.

I pointed my hand at him. "Burn."

It wasn't fire. It was something worse. A wave of concentrated void energy slammed into Lucas’s chest. He didn't even have time to scream before the shadows began to dissolve the fabric of his expensive suit, then the skin beneath. Not a slow burn, but a rapid, aggressive erosion.

"Stop! Please!" Lucas wailed, his voice thinning as the shadows climbed his throat. "I'll give it back! Everything! Just stop!"

I watched. I didn't blink. For a second, I saw the girl I used to be—the one who cried in the library, the one who believed in love—and I hated her. I wanted her dead.

"Too late for deals," I whispered.

With a final, violent snap, the shadows imploded. There was a flash of blinding violet light, and then... silence.

Lucas was still there, but he wasn't. He was a charred husk, his eyes wide and vacant, his skin turned to a grey, powdery ash that began to flake away the moment the air touched it. He looked like a statue that had been left in the rain for a thousand years.

I gasped, the rush suddenly vanishing. The adrenaline plummeted, leaving me hollow. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold marble, coughing. My lungs felt like they were filled with glass.

"Pathetic," Cain’s voice drifted from the shadows, though he was now standing beside me, looking entirely too pleased. He reached down, his cold fingers brushing the nape of my neck. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me that made my breath hitch. "You're shaking, little bird. Was it too much? Or did you enjoy the taste of his fear a bit too much?"

I shoved his hand away, though I didn't have the strength to actually push him. "I hate you."

"And yet, you're still breathing my air," he murmured, leaning closer. His eyes were twin abysses, swirling with a hunger that had nothing to do with power. "You're addicted to it. The feeling of being the one with the knife. Don't lie to me."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. But as I looked at the pile of ash that used to be my fiancé, a dark, shameful part of me felt... satisfied.

I tried to stand, gripping the edge of a nearby table. My vision blurred. The room was spinning, the gold leaf and crystal chandeliers swirling into a nauseating vortex.

"Get up," Cain commanded, his tone shifting from playful to sharp. "We aren't done."

"I can't... I need a minute," I wheezed.

"You don't have a minute."

He grabbed my wrist, his grip like a vice. He didn't pull me up; he dragged me toward the exit, his strength effortless and terrifying. The contrast of his freezing skin against my feverish wrist made me gasp.

"What do you mean?" I asked, stumbling. "He's dead. I won."

"You killed a pawn, Ella. You didn't kill the players," Cain snapped. He stopped abruptly, pulling me back into the shadow of a heavy velvet curtain.

I froze. From the hallway, the sound of heavy boots echoed. Not one or two. A dozen. The rhythmic, disciplined march of the Clan’s elite hunters.

And then, a voice. A voice I knew. A voice that had haunted my nightmares since the day I was cast into the Abyss.

"Search every room," the voice commanded, cold and precise. "If she's alive, bring her in chains. If she's dead, bring me her head. My father doesn't like loose ends."

I felt the blood drain from my face. That was my brother's voice.

Cain leaned in, his lips almost touching my ear, his voice a dangerous purr. "Looks like the party's just getting started, little bird. Ready to play again?"