Chapter 40: 34B: THE KNIFE OF THE PAST II

ELIJAH

I stepped away from the maid, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Erkel. That coward was still breathing? Still slithering through my walls like a disease?

I let out a dark laugh, lifting my head. "Come out, Erkel," I called, my voice echoing through the halls. "Or do you only have the spine to send women to do your dirty work?"

I stared at him, every muscle in my body wound tight.

Not yet.

She was still standing, still watching, but there was something in her gaze—something I hated.

Pity.

I stormed toward her, voice low with fury. "How long have you been working with him?"

Her brows furrowed. "I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me." My voice was sharp enough to cut. "You knew his name the moment I threatened the maids. You've known he was here."

She lifted her chin, defiance flashing through her eyes. "And what if I have?"

I grabbed her wrist, ignoring the way she flinched. "Then you've made a very, very dangerous mistake."

She yanked her arm back, stepping away. "You don't scare me, Elijah."

I let out a sharp laugh. "You should be terrified."

Her jaw clenched. "You think you can break me? Threaten me? Hurt me? Go ahead, try. But don't pretend you're doing this because you care about me. You're just angry that you don't own me."

Something inside me snapped.

I was on her in an instant, caging her between my body and the wall. She gasped, but she didn't shrink away.

"You think this is about ownership?" I snarled. "You think this is about control?"

Her breath was unsteady, but her gaze remained locked on mine. "Isn't it?"

I wanted to shake her. To make her see.

"You have no idea what you've done," I whispered. "No idea what he is capable of. What he has taken from me."

She swallowed hard but didn't look away. "And what if he's not the villain you've made him out to be?"

I went still.

My hands trembled with the urge to tear through something—through her lies, through the walls she had built, through the bond she clearly had with him.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

I exhaled slowly, stepping back.

"You want to defend him?" I said coldly. "Fine."

Her brows knitted together. "Elijah—"

The silence stretched for only a few heartbeats before he stepped forward, emerging from the shadows. He looked the same—smug, calculating. But I saw the flicker of fear beneath his bravado.

"Elijah," he greeted, mockingly.

Erkel leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching me with the same smugness I had spent centuries wanting to carve off his face. He was filth. A snake that had slithered his way through wars and betrayals, whispering venom into the ears of those too weak to resist.

And now, he had found his way to her.

I could taste the bile in my throat. The thought of Celeste, my Celeste, in any sort of alliance with this rat made my stomach churn.

"You always did have a habit of collecting broken things," he mused, tilting his head toward Celeste. "First your dear mother, now her. It's almost poetic, really."

My fist clenched. "I suggest you watch what comes out of your mouth, Erkel. You may have survived this long by hiding in shadows, but you forget—I am not my father."

"No, you're not." He smirked, stepping closer. "Your father was smart enough to throw away his mistakes. You, however? You cling to them like a child grasping a shattered toy, cutting yourself on the pieces."

I moved before I could think. My hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar, slamming him back against the wall. His smirk widened.

"Touched a nerve?" he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

"You've been a thorn in my side for centuries," I hissed. "A leech, feeding off my name, my blood, my house. But what's worse, Erkel, what truly disgusts me, is that I let you live long enough to think you were my equal."

He chuckled, low and dry. "Equal? No, Elijah. I'm better."

I tightened my grip, my nails biting into his skin. "That delusion must be a comforting one."

"Oh, but it isn't a delusion." His voice was smooth, confident. "You see, the difference between us is simple—I know what I am. I don't pretend to be noble, or honorable, or righteous. I embrace what I must be to survive. But you?" He sneered. "You're still playing at being a king, lashing out when the world refuses to kneel. Tell me, does it hurt? Knowing you've never truly ruled anything?"

My jaw tightened. "And yet you cower within my walls."

Erkel chuckled. "Do I? Or am I exactly where I want to be?"

I felt Celeste shift behind me, but I didn't turn. Not yet. My rage was simmering, but his words—his arrogance—kept it boiling just below the surface.

"You have no power here," I told him, my voice deadly quiet.

"Don't I?" His smirk deepened. "I hold something you don't, Elijah. Something you lost the moment you let her into your bed."

I didn't let him finish. My grip tightened, fingers pressing against his throat.

For the first time, he stiffened.

"You think you hold anything over me?" I whispered. "You're nothing but a pest I've let live out of convenience. And I think I've grown tired of that mercy."

He let out a rough, uneven chuckle, but there was something in his eyes now—something wary. "Then do it," he rasped. "Kill me."

I didn't give him the chance for more.

I moved swiftly, slamming the dagger into his stomach.

His breath hitched—but before he could even collapse, something worse happened.

A choked sound came from behind me.

I turned.

Celeste was standing there, her hands pressed against her own stomach—her fingers slick with blood.

The same spot.

The same wound.

My chest tightened. My grip on the dagger loosened.

My mind, once sharp, once unshakable, now spun with a single, impossible thought—

What deal have you struck with this devil, Celeste?