I didn’t sleep.
I tried—I really did. I closed my eyes, willing exhaustion to drag me under, to let my body give in and surrender to the dark.
But the dark was already inside me.
Adam’s voice seeped into my mind like oil—thick, cloying, staining everything it touched.
"Did you forget what you are?"
My jaw tightened. No. No, I wasn’t doing this.
I wasn’t going to sit here, huddled beneath a half-moth-eaten blanket, dissecting the words of a man who was nothing. Who meant nothing.
I inhaled. Slow. Steady.
My breath caught.
I curled in on myself, knuckles pressing hard against my temples, forcing the words down—deep into my ribs, where they couldn’t reach me.
I didn’t believe them.
Not a single word.
But I had to.
Because if I let myself think—if I let myself feel—I wouldn’t come back.
"You were never meant to stand beside her."
I clenched my fists. The words weren’t real. They couldn’t be.
But they lingered.
A sharp pang tightened in my chest. My fingers twitched, curling into the blanket.
I thought about Zara.
Zara, who carried me through the slums like I wasn’t too heavy, like I wasn’t too much.
Zara, who held a gun like an extension of herself but still touched me like I was something fragile.
Zara, who—
She flinched.
Not at Adam. Not at his words.
But because of him.
Because of what he meant.
Because she was afraid.
I pressed my lips together.
It was nothing.
It didn’t mean anything.
My fingers flexed against my palms, nails biting into skin.
The Whisper stirred inside me, slow and watching.
"Lying to yourself again?"
I gritted my teeth. Shut up.
It hummed, deep and knowing. "Why?"
I exhaled sharply through my nose. Because it’s not true.
"But it is."
No.
"She flinched."
No.
"Not because of you—"
No.
"—but because of what she’s hiding."
A violent shudder wracked through me. My hands flew up, pressing hard against my ears. As if I could force the voice out. As if I could make it stop.
"She’s lying to you."
A strangled breath tore from my throat.
"And you know it."
"So why are you pretending?"
"Stop."
Silence.
Then—
A slow, creeping chuckle.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Amused.
Like it had already won.
I swallowed hard, pressing my forehead into my knees.
I didn’t care what Adam said.
I didn’t care what the Whisper thought it knew.
None of it mattered.
Zara was coming.
That was all.
It had to be.
I kept breathing.
Four in.
Seven hold.
Eight out.
My ribs ached. My chest stung. But I kept going.
The numbers grounded me. Kept me here. Kept me from spiraling.
If I just focused on breathing, I wouldn’t have to think.
Wouldn’t have to feel.
I stared at the floor, eyes unfocused, counting, counting, counting.
Four in.
Seven hold.
Eight out.
I wasn’t in Eve’s lab.
I wasn’t on the table.
I wasn’t—
Four in.
Seven hold.
Eight—
The breath slipped out too slow.
My limbs felt heavy. My eyelids—
The neon hum of Droge’s shop buzzed at the edge of my hearing. The quiet shuffle of his breathing. The low mechanical whir of the security drones. The faint smell of gunpowder and something burnt.
The weight in my chest sank deeper, spreading, thick and warm. Like I was drifting.
I wasn’t sleeping.
I was just—
"Hey, hey, kiddo."
Zara’s voice.
My whole body jerked.
My eyes snapped open. My breath caught—sharp, ragged—like I had been drowning and surfaced too fast.
Zara knelt in front of me, one hand hovering, as if she meant to shake me awake but stopped short. Her brows were furrowed, gaze sharp—worried.
That was wrong.
Zara didn’t worry. Not visibly. Not like this.
She was here.
She was here.
And I—
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
I blinked rapidly, pulse thudding against my ribs. My limbs felt too slow, too sluggish, like my body hadn’t caught up with reality yet.
Because Zara was here. And she was looking at me like I was fragile.
Like I was something she had almost lost.
Like she had seen something I didn’t remember.
“Zara.” My voice came out hoarse, raw.
Her hand lowered slightly, hesitation flickering across her face. “Yeah, kid. It’s me.”
I swallowed hard, throat dry. “When did you—”
“Just now,” she said, voice gentler than I had ever heard it. “I called your name, but you weren’t—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You weren’t waking up.”
Something in my chest clenched.
Zara studied me, her gaze flicking over my face, my bandages, the way my hands had curled into the blanket like I was still trying to hold onto something.
She knew.
She saw.
And for the first time in a long time—
I had no idea what she was thinking.
Zara’s eyes searched mine, sharp but unreadable. Assessing. She was always assessing.
Then, quieter—softer—“Are you okay?”
I blinked.
A stupid question. A simple one. But I had no idea how to answer it.
Zara exhaled, gaze flicking over me again—over the bandages, the way my body curled in on itself, the cracks spiderwebbing over my skin. “You look… different.”
That word again.
Different.
Like I wasn’t me anymore.
Zara shifted, her voice lowering. “What happened, Mari?”
I didn’t move.
She tried again. “What did Adam and Eve do to you?”
I didn’t answer.
The words curled in my throat, thick and leaden, pressing down, pressing in.
I wasn’t ready.
I couldn’t—
I swallowed.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Then, before I could stop myself—before I could even think—
“What are you?”
Zara froze.
Her breath hitched.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Enough for me to see it.
I latched onto it.
“What did Adam mean?” My voice was quieter now, but not soft. Not gentle. “When he said you were never meant to stand beside me—what did he mean?”
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
That was an answer in itself.
My hands clenched around the blanket. My pulse pounded against my ribs, frustration simmering under my skin, thick and suffocating.
“Zara,” I pressed, voice sharper, desperate. “What are you?”
She stared at me.
Like she didn’t know what to say.
Like she didn’t want to say it.
Then—finally—she stuttered.
“…What?”
Not a denial.
Not a dismissal.
Just that.
A single syllable, thin and unsteady.
That was worse.
She wasn’t confused.
She was stalling.
I sucked in a breath. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m asking.”
Zara’s jaw tensed. “Mari—”
“What are you?”
Silence.
"Who exactly are you, Zara?!"
A thick, suffocating silence.
I waited.
She didn’t answer.
She wasn’t going to.
Something sharp twisted in my gut.
She knew.
She knew.
And she wasn’t telling me.
My chest tightened. My fingers curled into fists.
Why?
Why wouldn’t she just say it?
What was she hiding?
What did Adam mean?
Why did he say she was never meant to stand beside me?
Why did she flinch?
Why why why why why—
“Yikes.”
Droge’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
I snapped my head toward him.
He was still sitting in the chair, arms crossed, one brow raised as he looked between us. His expression was deeply unimpressed, like he had just witnessed the most awkward standoff in history.
Then, shaking his head, he slapped his palms against his knees and pushed himself up.
“Nope,” he muttered. “Not my problem.”
He turned on his heel and walked toward the back room.
Pausing at the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. “Try not to kill each other.”
Then he left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence settled between me and Zara.
Heavy. Tense.
She still hadn’t answered.
She still wasn’t going to.
I swallowed the anger rising in my throat, the heat curling under my ribs.
She didn’t want to tell me.
The silence stretched.
Zara wasn’t going to answer.
She wasn’t going to say a damn thing.
Something sharp twisted inside me.
I pushed the blanket off my lap and stood. My legs were unsteady, but I didn’t care. I needed to move, needed to get out of this room, out of this conversation, out of the space where her silence was suffocating me.
I turned.
Zara’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
“Wait.”
I jerked my arm, trying to pull away, but her grip was firm. Not tight, not painful—just enough to hold me there.
I glared at her. “Let go.”
Zara’s jaw clenched. “Mari—”
“Let. Go.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she exhaled, slow and controlled, and when she looked at me, there was something in her eyes—something raw.
“Fine.”
That single word lodged itself deep in my ribs.
Zara let go of my wrist, but she didn’t step back.
Instead, she looked at me like she was measuring the weight of the truth in her mouth before she let it slip free.
She hesitated.
Then she spoke.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
I said nothing.
She swallowed hard. “I’m not a Hunter, Mari.” Her voice was quiet, but it wasn’t soft. “I’m a contractor.”
The words didn’t land at first. They hovered in the space between us, empty and weightless, like my brain refused to process them.
A contractor.
Not a Hunter.
A contractor.
I stared at her. “What?”
Zara shifted, eyes flicking away for half a second before meeting mine again. “I was hired.”
Hired.
The word rang in my skull.
Hired.
“For what?” I asked, but I already knew. I already knew, and I didn’t want to hear it.
Zara inhaled sharply. “To keep tabs on you.”
My pulse pounded against my ribs.
“To give you jobs.”
No.
“To report back to them about your progress.”
No, no, no.
I took a step back.
Zara took a step forward.
Zara swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
"I was working for Adam and Eve."
She didn’t look away.
But her hands flexed—just slightly.
Like she was bracing for something.
I stopped breathing.
The world slowed.
The neon hum of Droge’s shop became distant, the floor beneath me felt unsteady, like I wasn’t standing on something solid anymore.
Adam and Eve.
“Liar.” The word scraped its way out of my throat.
Zara didn’t flinch. “I’m not.”
“You’re lying.” My voice wavered. “You’re lying, you’re lying—”
“Mari—”
I took another step back, shaking my head. “No, no, they’re—no, there’s no way, that doesn’t make sense, they—”
“They’re your parents.”
The words hit me like a bullet between the ribs.
I swayed.
The air was too thick. My lungs were too tight. My heartbeat was too loud.
No.
No, that wasn’t possible.
That wasn’t—
No.
“That’s not—” My voice was barely a breath. “That’s not true.”
Zara swallowed hard. “It is.”
I tried to breathe, but the air didn’t reach my lungs.
Adam.
Eve.
My parents?
No.
No.
No.
My parents aren’t like that.
A father is supposed to protect. To care. To love.
Not stand over me, cold and emotionless, watching as I bled out at his feet.
A mother is supposed to nurture. To hold. To comfort.
Not strap me down for days, pressing scalpels into my skin just to hear me scream.
Not laugh while I begged her to stop.
It can’t be them.
It can’t be.
Zara kept talking, but the words barely registered.
“I don’t know why,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you are, or what they were planning, only that you were their child. That’s all I knew at first.” She exhaled, steadying herself. “But then I heard about the prophecy.”
My stomach churned violently.
Angelus.
The Elders.
The whispers in the dark, the murmurs of fate, the destiny I didn’t ask for.
Zara’s hands curled into fists.
“And when I found out what Adam wanted from you—what he was planning—” Her lips pressed together, her eyes burning with something furious and disgusted. “It made me sick.”
The words barely reached me through the static in my head.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t think.
“I was supposed to be a spy,” she continued, her voice distant, like she was speaking through water. “I was supposed to keep you close, keep you working, make sure you never got too far. But when I found out—”
She shook her head.
“I chose you.”
The world cracked.
The air left my lungs.
I swayed where I stood, my thoughts crashing into each other, jagged and violent and spiraling.
Adam was my father.
Eve was my mother.
Zara had been working for them the entire time.
Zara had been—
A spy.
A choked breath tore from my throat. My knees buckled.
I was drowning.
I was suffocating.
The walls were closing in.
The neon lights blurred.
Zara was saying something—her voice was urgent, her hands were reaching for me—but I couldn’t hear her.
The Whisper coiled inside my ribs, slithering up my spine, curling around my throat.
It spoke.
Amused.
Delighted.
“Now isn’t that something?”
My breath hitched.
It chuckled, deep and knowing.
“She knew. She always knew.”
I shook my head, nails digging into my arms. Shut up.
“Even now, she’s holding back.”
Shut up.
“She’s still lying to you.”
Shut up shut up shut up—
The Whisper purred.
“This is her fault.”
My stomach twisted violently.
No.
No, it wasn’t—
“Who kept you in the dark?”
I clenched my teeth.
“Who fed you jobs like scraps to a dog?”
I shut my eyes.
“Who let you run yourself into the ground while she watched?”
My breathing turned ragged.
The Whisper pressed in, thick and suffocating, curling around my ribs, my lungs, my skull.
“And you still trust her?”
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t—
It laughed.
“You’re a fool.”
Something in me snapped.
My head jerked up, my eyes locking onto Zara’s.
She had known.
She had always known.
And she hadn’t said a damn thing.
Heat coiled under my skin. My fingers twitched, curling into fists.
Zara’s face tightened. “Mari—”
She hesitated, lips parting, voice wavering.
“I—I stopped giving you jobs. I was trying to protect you.”
My breath shuddered.
Something inside me snapped.
Protect me?
The Whisper laughed—a low, sickening chuckle.
“Protect you? What a joke. She put you in danger. She’s the reason Adam and Eve found us. Everything they did to us—it’s all her fault.”
Its voice curled tighter, venomous and amused.
“Yet you still trust her?”
My hands shook. My ribs felt too tight. My head pounded.
Zara took a step closer. Soft. Careful.
My fist moved before I even registered it.
CRACK.
Zara barely had time to react.
Her head snapped to the side, a sharp exhale forced from her lungs.
Then, slowly, she raised a hand to the corner of her mouth, touching where my fist had landed.
For a moment, we just stared at each other.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t fight back.
Didn’t even raise her fists.
And that—
That just made me angrier.
