Chapter 3

The car rolls through the gates of Hartley Manor.

I get out and walk straight to my room — tucked in the far corner of the estate. Huge. Beautiful. Empty. A pretty cage.

I start packing. Just the basics. A few changes of clothes. A roll of cash. And an old photo album of my parents — the one Caleb probably forgot existed years ago.

I'm zipping the backpack shut when the door swings open.

Zoe leans against the frame. Fresh white bandage around her wrist. Cheeks artfully pale.

Eyes shining with quiet, ugly little triumph.

"Grace, you're really leaving?"

Her voice is honey-soft.

"Is it because of what Caleb said? Don't blame him, okay? He just worries about me. I know you two are real siblings, but… he believes me more."

I look at her. I feel absolutely nothing.

In my last life, I'd have thrown something at her. Screamed. Lunged. And then Caleb would've come running and crucified me.

Right now, I just want her out of my way.

"Move."

She steps closer. Blocks the door. Drops her voice. Just for me.

""Let me spell it out for you, Grace. He doesn't love you. He's never loved you. You're not his sister — you're a pity project. So do everyone a favor and disappear. The sooner, the better.""

I don't answer. Just turn sideways to squeeze past her.

That's when she screams.

A fruit knife appears in her hand out of nowhere, and in one clean motion she drags the blade across her own arm.

Blood blooms instantly.

"Grace! What are you doing?!"

She stumbles back. Sobs spilling. Eyes huge with horror.

"I already said I was sorry — why are you still hurting me?!"

Footsteps. Fast. Heavy.

Caleb appears in the doorway. His face goes dark the second he takes in the scene — the blood on her arm, the backpack in my hand, the knife on the floor between us.

Three seconds.

He doesn't ask a single question.

His hand snaps across my face.

Time stops.

The burn on my arm. The ache in my kidney. Gone. Vanished.

There's only the stinging heat blooming across my cheek.

In two lifetimes, he has never once hit me.

It hurts more than every other wound I've ever had. Combined.

Even at his absolute worst in my last life — screaming the cruelest things a brother can scream at a sister — he never touched me. Not like this.

He really does love her, I think. Calm. Almost peaceful. He really, really does.

"Grace."

His voice is shaking. So is his hand. He grinds the words out between his teeth.

"For one second back there — one second — I actually believed you'd changed. God, I'm an idiot. A snake never sheds its venom. What is wrong with you? What has Zoe ever done to you? She saved your life, Grace!"

The same words. The same poison. Driving straight into the softest part of me.

I told myself I was ready. I told myself I was numb.

I'm not.

My vision blurs. My knees almost go.

I look up at his beautiful, furious face. I look at Zoe sniffling behind him, peeking at me over his shoulder with that tiny, satisfied flicker in her eyes.

It's all so absurd. So pathetic.

Explain? He'd never believe me. He never has. In his head, I was guilty before I was born.

Fine.

I drag in a slow breath. Swallow the metal taste at the back of my throat. Blink the sting out of my eyes. And I pull my wrist out of his grip.

Then I bend down.

I pick up the knife. The one wet with Zoe's blood.

His eyes flash. "What the hell are you doing?"

I press the handle into his palm. Close his fingers around it.

The cold metal sits against his skin. My white, bloodless face reflects in the steel.

I step in. Closer. Until I'm almost against his chest. Tilt my head up. Look him dead in the eye.

My voice comes out soft. Barely there.

"Caleb. You hate me this much. You really believe I hurt your Zoe. So — get even for her. Okay?"

His eyes go wide. He understands what I'm about to do half a second too late.

"Grace — don't —"

I lunge.

The blade goes in clean. Right under my collarbone. I feel the steel slide between bone and muscle like it was waiting for me.