The stairs creaked beneath Celina's bare feet as she descended, the knife cold in her grip. She clutched it too tightly, afraid of dropping it, more afraid she might need it. Every step was slow, deliberate, like walking toward the edge of something she couldn't come back from.
The basement hallway stretched before her, dark and quiet. She kept her flashlight low, the beam trembling with each shallow breath. The scent of dust and stone clung to the air—but there was something else now. Something metallic. Something sharp.
Blood.
Cassia didn't make idle threats. She didn't have to. Her words were like loaded guns—calm, calculated, and dangerous. When she said something, it wasn't a suggestion. It was a future she had already chosen. Celina had always known that. Her sister didn't bluff. She delivered.
And going down on her own... it felt better than being dragged.
She reached the door and froze. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her heart thudding against her ribs so hard it almost drowned out the silence around her. Her grip tightened on the knife until her knuckles ached. She wasn't ready. She would never be ready. But waiting here wouldn't change what waited behind that door.
She stood there, blade in one hand, the other pressed to the wall for support. Her legs shook. Her throat tightened. Her sister's words echoed inside her head like poison.
"Go visit the basement. Maybe I'll let you kill it."
Celina had always known, even as a child, that their family's fortune was soaked in something darker than business. Whispers in the halls, rooms she wasn't allowed to enter, conversations that stopped when she appeared. Her father's too-calm voice. Her mother's silences.
She almost asked once.
Almost.
But she didn't.
Now it was too late for questions.
She pushed the door open.
The smell hit her like a slap. Not old stone. Not dust.
Blood. Thick, stale, metallic.
Her stomach lurched. She staggered. Her knees buckled and she dropped.
Her flashlight tumbled across the floor, its beam catching on something glinting.
Chains.
Then she saw him.
A man. Chained to the wall.
His body was marked with bruises and dried blood. His hair hung over his face in messy clumps. He was shirtless. His chest moved with slow, shallow breaths.
And then—he moved.
A groan broke the silence. Low. Rough.
His head lifted.
And his eyes met hers.
They were wild. Furious. Alive with something that made her breath catch in her throat.
He didn't just look at her. He saw her.
And he hated her.
Every part of her wanted to run, but her body wouldn't move. She was paralyzed.
He stared at her like he would rip her apart.
She forced her hand to the wall and pulled herself up, stumbling backward.
Then she hit something.
Someone.
Warm. Familiar.
Cassia.
She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching with that awful, pleased expression.
"Where are you going, apét?" she asked, voice light, playful.
Celina stammered, "I... I have to go. I can't be here. I can't do this."
Her stomach twisted. She felt like she was going to be sick.
Cassia stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders.
"Look at him."
Celina tried to pull away. "No. I don't want to."
Cassia's fingers dug into her skin. "I said look."
She yanked her around, using one hand to twist her shoulder and the other to grip her jaw, forcing her to look at the man.
"That's mine," Cassia whispered. "I made that. Every scream, every broken breath. I broke him, little swan. And now..."
Celina whimpered, "Please, stop. Please."
Cassia smiled wider. "Now we see what's under all that skin."
Celina tried to turn her face, but Cassia held her tighter.
"And it will be your hand that opens him."
She grabbed Celina's wrist and raised it, lifting the knife.
"No. Cassia, please. Stop. This isn't funny."
"You know I don't joke."
"Let me go. Please."
Cassia tilted her head slowly, like a predator watching prey finally tire itself out. Her eyes glittered with something sharp, something close to delight, as if Celina's fear was a symphony she was conducting.
"Why would I? You're finally becoming one of us. You're finally becoming what we were born to be."
She gave a soft, cruel laugh.
"A true Strander."
Celina's fingers trembled.