His hand was warm. Hot, actually—and fast. Ciro grabbed me, and for a second there, I didn't even react. I was too busy whirling from the sensation.
It wasn't just a touch. It was a shockwave. A possession. A command issued from the bones outward. My breath snagged in my throat as he yanked me to my feet, and suddenly I was moving—no, flying across that expensive room like a marionette being pulled by her string.
"What the hell—?" I gasped, heels stumbling to keep up with his long, furious strides.
He had me hooked in a firm clasp, and his expression was simply murderous. My shoulder bumped into Nox as we passed, and she let out a shriek.
"CIRO!" she shouted, shooting up from the couch, blonde hair swinging like it was in a shampoo commercial. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"
And just like that… the strings in his head seemed to snap. Ciro halted right there in the middle of the room, with me nearly crashing into his back like a confused shopping cart as if he was just realizing something.
He didn't let go of my wrist immediately. He just stood there like a statue, breathing like someone had punched him. His chest heaved. I watched as the realization slowly trickled into his expression, cracking it open.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Then, finally, in a voice that didn't sound like his. By that, I meant shaky and shame-filled, he muttered, "I was… I'm throwing her out. She doesn't belong here. Not in this family. Not in this house. I-I was trying to send her back to whatever filthy dump Caligo dragged her from."
What the heck?! Excuse me?
A dump. A fucking dump. That's what he thought of me?
"Filthy?!" I snapped, wrenching my hand back. "First of all, that 'filthy dump' had better plumbing than your entire family's personalities. Secondly…"
"You touch her again, and I'll rip your spine out through your throat," Caligo states flatly from behind, cutting me short.
He was still calm as if nothing could crack his anger open. However, this calmness was the kind of calm that makes people evacuate cities.
Oh shit.
Everyone froze. Even the twins, who had been halfway into another performance of Keeping Up With the Cold-hearted, paused.
Ciro turned, and then it happened. Like two lions in a bloodstained cage, they collided.
I gasped, hands flying to my mouth. One second, they were brothers standing across from each other, radiating pure loathing. The next, Ciro threw himself at Caligo, fist flying like a meteor.
Caligo blocked. Ciro grunted as he collided with a nearby artifact instead. My stomach flipped as the two men tore into each other like ancient gods caught in a family feud.
Ciro tried his attack again, and this time, he landed a solid blow to Caligo's jaw. A vein in Caligo's neck pulsed. He staggered back half a step, then snarled like a wild animal before he kicked his brother roughly in the jaw.
Fist to ribs. Knee to thigh. Elbow to shoulder. It was fast and brutal.
"Nail him, Ciro!" Nox howled, fists clenched like she was betting money on her favorite fighter. "Break his arrogant nose!"
"Stop it! This is ridiculous! You're not children—!" Nyx cried, trying to get between them and failing miserably.
"Sit down," the grandfather muttered, tugging her gently back. "Let the wolves handle it."
The what?
Okay. No. I didn't just hear that. I must've hit my head.
I stood in the middle of this chaos, jaw open with my heart pounding in my ears as I watched two grown men demolish priceless furniture and whatever shreds of dignity this family still had left.
And that's when the slap happened. I didn't even see her move.
One second, I was trying to decide if I should run or grab popcorn. The next, my head snapped to the side, and a hot, stinging pain exploded across my cheek.
I gasped and then, I hiccuped, shock watering my eyes, and the pain filled my senses.
What the hell just—?
"What did you just do?" Caligo growled, freezing and forgetting he was in the middle of a fight.
The room went dead silent. I turned slowly to look at the perpetrator. It was none other than the mother.
Standing there like a taxidermied vulture in Chanel, her hand was still lifted from the force of the slap. Her face was expressionless, as if slapping people was her skincare routine.
"You do not lay hands on my son," she hissed. "You touch him again, and your little toy pays the price."
I was still in pure hysteria, trying to reboot my brain. My cheek throbbed. My pride screamed. My hands curled into fists.
But Caligo… He didn't scream. He didn't curse.
What he merely did was to move in that graceful stride of his like a predator that had made peace with violence. Next, he walked to a nearby maid—one I hadn't noticed before. She had been standing by the wall like furniture with a pale face and eyes that were wide with fear.
"No. Please. No…" She begged, vigorously shaking her head.
But it was too late, and he wasn't even listening.
In one swift motion, Caligo unsheathed a dagger from god-knows-where and grabbed her hand. Before anyone could stop him, he sliced it. Two fingers hit the floor.
Splat.
I screamed.
The maid dropped to her knees, wailing in pain as blood sprayed the tiles like a crimson fan.
The family didn't move. Not a single soul moved. And Caligo… turned to his mother with that same terrifying calmness.
"For every time you lay hands on her, your maids pay." He pointed at the fingers lying pitifully on the floor as he declared.
W-what on earth just happened? Did Caligo just slice off a poor maid's fingers for me? To make a statement… for me?
Perhaps, his own way of—protecting me?
No. No. No. Please, no.
The mother, however, just shook her head. Then, slowly, her mouth twisted into a cunning smile.
"You've become exactly what your father feared." She spats
"And you've become exactly what he tried to escape."
They stared at each other across the sea of blood and glass and ego, and I just… I broke.
I backed away. Slowly, like someone trying not to spook a rabid dog. My heart was banging on the inside of my ribs, my breath ragged and too shallow to be useful. I felt the sting of the slap mixing with the nausea of witnessing actual mutilation, and I thought:
I am in hell. I died, and hell was a mansion with a crazy, murderous family.