[POV: Dayana]
*A few days ago*
Aria’s gone.
Not dead, not dragged off by rogues, not banished—just gone.
I thought I’d feel something more satisfying. Relief, maybe. A clean sense of victory. But instead, I’m stuck here, listening to Father scream like a lunatic while Mother stares into the fireplace like it’s going to tell her what to do.
“This is your fault,” Father snaps, pacing back and forth across the rug like he’s about to wear a hole through it. “You pushed her too far.”
I lift my eyes slowly, letting him see the full weight of my indifference. “She’s always been soft. She just needed one little shove.”
Father rounds on me, eyes bloodshot, spit at the corner of his mouth. “She was supposed to stay in check. You were supposed to manage her!”
“Manage her?” I laugh once, cold and sharp. “She’s not a child. She’s a coward with a martyr complex. She ran because she wanted someone to come chasing after her. She wants to matter so badly.”
“She does matter!” he barks, louder than before.
That gets my attention. I glance up, slowly, and meet his eyes.
“She shouldn’t,” I replied. “She never did.”
He goes still. The room vibrates with tension.
“She’ll come back,” I continued, voice low and steady. “Crying. Shaking. Tail between her legs. She doesn’t have the guts to survive on her own. No pack will take her. Without us, she’s nothing.”
“You arrogant little—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.
I watch him with no fear. He won’t touch me. I’m the one that matters. Not her.
Not the “precious firstborn.” Not the soft-spoken saint. Not the walking sob story with a moon-shaped birthmark and eyes always full of questions she was too afraid to ask out loud.
His eyes flash, wild with anger. “She was never supposed to leave in the first place.”
“She was never supposed to live,” I mutter, before I can stop myself.
The silence that follows is sharp and immediate. Father goes still. Mother finally turns from the fire, her face pale and tight.
“Get out,” Father growls. “Now.”
I stand, slow and unbothered, but inside my skin is crawling. I hate it when his voice drops like that. It means something worse is coming.
I leave the study, but I don’t go far. I’ve learned to keep quiet and listen when it matters. So I stay just outside the door, back pressed against the wall, heartbeat steady, ears wide open.
“I warned you,” Father hisses from inside. “I told you she was slipping.”
“Because you made her that way,” Mother fires back. “You twisted her. You bent her until she cracked. And now you’re surprised she broke?”
“She was never meant to last!” he snaps. “She was a placeholder! A pawn! Her only job was to serve until Dayana came into power.”
“You favored Aria,” Mother accuses, voice sharp with something deeper than anger. “You wanted her. And not just for the prophecy. You were obsessed with her.”
I hear the sound—flesh against wood, a harsh thud. Then a sickening thud, and a gasp of air. I don’t move.
“Need I remind you of who you're talking to?,” Father growls. His voice is so close to the edge, I wonder if there’s anything human left in him.
Through strained, choking breaths, Mother spits, “She wouldn’t have satisfied your filthy cravings for long anyway. She wasn’t made for that.”
My body tenses against the wall.
“You’re pathetic,” she chokes. “Still clinging to a child you planned to throw away.”
“Aria was obedient. I could control her.”
“She was a child,” Mother spits. “And you were grooming her for something she was never meant to survive.”
There’s more silence. Longer this time and heavy..
When he speaks again, his voice is low and shaking. “She was never going to make it past the choosing ceremony. You knew that. We both agreed that she is the cursed one.”
“And yet you kept her close,” Mother hisses, voice thin and full of 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 her slip away, and she’ll take everything with her. For what we’ve done to her for all this time. She’ll bring the ruin on us.”
Another beat of silence. Then he releases her. I hear her collapse, coughing violently on the floor.
I let out a breath and pulled away from the wall. I should be disgusted. I am, I think. But not just at him.
The truth is—I enjoyed breaking Aria. I enjoyed watching her fold in on herself, small and useless. I enjoyed watching Cole choose me, knowing it shattered her inside.
If Father had gone too far with her… well. Some part of me wanted to watch that, too.
She always thought she was better than me, even when she said nothing. Especially then. With her soft little smiles and her quiet heart. As if she was some innocent light and I was the storm.
Maybe I am. But she ran. And I’m still here.
Which means I win.