[POV: Dominic]
*A few days ago*
Atlas is gone.
Not dead, not dragged off by rogues, not banished—just gone. Vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but Father's fury.
I thought I'd feel something more satisfying. Relief, maybe. A clean sense of victory. But instead, I'm stuck in Father's study, listening to him scream while Mother stares into the fireplace.
"This is your fault," Father snaps, pacing across the rug like he's about to wear a hole through it. "You pushed him too far."
I lift my eyes slowly, letting him see the full weight of my indifference. "He's always been soft. He just needed one little shove."
Father rounds on me, eyes bloodshot, spit at the corner of his mouth. "He was supposed to stay in check. You were supposed to manage him!"
"Manage him?" I laugh once, cold and sharp. "He's a coward with a martyr complex. He ran because he wanted someone to come chasing after him. He wants to matter so badly."
"He does matter!" he barks, louder than before.
That gets my attention. I glance up slowly and meet his bloodshot eyes. Something dangerous flickers there—something that makes my stomach twist even as I keep my face smooth.
"He shouldn't," I say carefully. "He never did."
Father goes still. The room vibrates with tension so thick I can taste it.
"He'll come back," I continue, voice low and steady. "Crying. Shaking. Tail between his legs. He doesn't have the guts to survive on his own. Without us, he's nothing."
"You arrogant little—" He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.
I watch him with no visible fear, though something cold has settled in my chest. He won't touch me. I'm the one that matters now. Not Atlas. Not the "precious firstborn" with his moon-shaped birthmark and wounded eyes.
Father's eyes flash wild. "He was never supposed to leave in the first place."
The words slip out before I can stop them: "He was never supposed to live."
The silence that follows is sharp and immediate. Father goes completely still. Mother finally turns from the fire, her face pale and tight.
"Get out," Father growls, his voice dropping to that dangerous register. "Now."
I stand, slow and unbothered on the outside, but inside my skin is crawling. I hate when his voice drops like that. It means something worse is coming.
I leave the study with measured steps. But I don't go far. I stay just outside the door, back pressed against the wall, ears wide open.
"I warned you," Father hisses from inside. "I told you he was slipping."
"Because you made him that way," Mother fires back. "You twisted him until he cracked. And now you're surprised he broke?"
"He was never meant to last!" Father snaps. "He was a placeholder! A pawn! His only job was to serve until Dominic came into power."
My chest tightens. I've always known this, but hearing it spoken so plainly sends something cold through my ribs.
"You favored Atlas," Mother accuses, voice cutting like a knife. "You wanted him. And not just for the prophecy. You were obsessed with him."
The sound that follows makes my stomach turn—flesh against wood, a harsh impact. Then Mother's sharp gasp.
"Need I remind you of who you're talking to?" Father's voice has nothing human left in it.
Through strained breaths, Mother manages: "He wouldn't have satisfied your filthy cravings for long anyway. He wasn't made for that."
My body goes rigid. Ice floods my veins.
"You're pathetic," Mother chokes out. "Still clinging to a kid you planned to throw away."
"Atlas was obedient," Father snarls. "I could control him."
"He was a kid," Mother spits. "And you were grooming him for something he was never meant to survive."
The silence that follows is suffocating.
"He was never going to make it past the choosing ceremony," Father says, voice low and shaking. "You knew that. We both agreed he is the cursed one."
"And yet you kept him close," Mother hisses, voice thin with venom.
A sick twist curls in my gut. I press my hand against the wall, eyes shut, trying to keep my expression blank even though no one's watching.
"I did what I had to," Father snarls.
"And now look at what you've done," she spits. "You let him slip away, and he'll take everything with him. He'll bring the ruin on us for what we've done."
Another impact. Then Mother's body hitting the floor, her coughing violent through the door.
I pull away from the wall, mind racing.
I should be disgusted. I am, I think. But not just at him.
The truth is—I enjoyed breaking Atlas. I enjoyed watching him fold in on himself. I enjoyed watching Evan choose me, knowing it shattered something inside my brother.
If Father had gone too far with him… some dark part of me had wanted to watch that, too. Had wanted Atlas to disappear entirely so I'd never have to see those accusing eyes again.
Atlas always thought he was better than me, even when he said nothing. Especially then. With his soft smiles and his quiet, martyred heart. As if he was some innocent light and I was the storm.
Maybe I am the storm.
But he ran. And I'm still here. Which means I win.