Chapter 4

My hand on the bed rail went white at the knuckles.

I slid off the bed and onto the cold tile floor.

The kindness of the last four days collapsed in on itself.

It had never been kindness.

Iris watched me from the safety of his arms. Her lips curved — just a little.

"Say you're sorry," Damian said.

"I'm sorry." My voice was flat.

He frowned. "Kneel lower."

I pressed my forehead to the ground.

"Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"Again."

"I'm sorry."

I lost count of how many times I said it. My throat went raw.

He didn't tell me to stop. Just stood there holding Iris, stroking her hair, while I knelt at their feet like a dog.

When he finally looked down at me.

"If this happens again, your sister is-" I can't hear anything anymore, my eyes were empty.

Then he picked Iris up and carried her out. Murmuring about getting her hand stitched.

The door swung shut behind them.

I didn't get up until his footsteps faded all the way down the corridor.

When I did, my legs wouldn't hold me. I caught the edge of the bed with both hands.

A single shard of crystal had buried itself in my knee. I pulled it out without looking.

The blood that ran down my shin was the same color as the blood Iris had smeared across her palm.

Exactly the same.

It almost made me laugh.

I limped to the wardrobe. Opened the bottom drawer. Under a folded sweater, wrapped in black silk — the notebook.

I sat on the floor with it in my lap.

My hand was shaking so badly the pen wouldn't write. I had to brace my wrist against my thigh.

Below the line that said the pearls, I wrote a sentence.

Be a human target.

Then, the door creaked.

"What are you doing?"

I went still.

I closed the notebook.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.