My psychological breakdown is almost complete. I am just a bundle of nerves, waiting for a bell. My heart hammers against my ribs when I realize that I am actually more afraid of his silence than his presence. The loneliness is destroying me. I need to see him.
And then it happens.
A sharp, piercing sound of the doorbell cuts through the silence of the apartment like a razor. I jump, my breath hitching. It isn't a soft chime. It is a long, insistent tone that refuses to stop.
The sound of the bell doesn't stop until my fingers finally close around the cold metal of the handle. I don't look through the peephole. I don't care anymore. I just need the noise to end. I throw the door open, my hair matted to my forehead, my eyes wild.
Deimos stands there. He is not wearing his tactical gear or a mask. He is in a dark, tailored coat, looking perfectly composed. His calmness is the final insult to my sanity.
"Deimos..."
I breathe, the word coming out as a sob.
He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence instantly shrinking the room. His eyes scan the mess of papers and broken glass.
"You look tired, Madeline," he says, his voice smooth and terrifyingly level.
"Tired?"
I scream, the sound tearing from my throat. I grab a heavy glass vase from the side table.
"I am losing my mind! Where is she? Where is Lucy? If you touched her, Deimos, I will carve that 'design' right out of your chest!"
I step toward him, trembling so violently the vase rattles in my hands. I am a heartbeat away from swinging at him. Deimos doesn't flinch. He just watches me with that detached, analytical gaze.
"Lucy is a liability," he says, the words flat and final.
"She is a variable that should never have existed. Her survival is... complicated."
"Complicated? She’s your sister! She’s my best friend!"
I shriek, slamming the vase down on the table so hard it cracks.
"Tell me where she is! Now!"
"She is a shadow of Charles," he counters, his voice finally tightening, a hint of the monster beneath the surface beginning to show.
"And shadows like her need to be erased."
"Get out," I whisper, the rage turning into a cold, hard stone in my gut.
"Get out of my house. Get out of my life."
"Madeline—"
"I said GET OUT!"
I lunge at him, pushing against his chest with all my strength. It is like trying to move a mountain, but the sheer force of my hatred makes him take a step back.
"I don't care about your bloodline! I don't care about your father! You’re just a pathetic, lonely man playing God because you're too broken to be human! I wish I had never touched you!"
The atmosphere in the room shifts instantly. The calm mask he has been wearing shatters. His jaw tightens, and his eyes darken until they are two pits of black ink. The rejection hits him visibly,turning his own cold anger into something much more volatile. He has expected me to break, to crawl to him. Instead, I am casting him out.
"You’re choosing her?"
He growls, stepping back toward the threshold, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, wounded pride.
"After everything I showed you? After everything I did for you?"
