Chapter 33: Bitter

My knees felt locked, my throat tight, my heart ricocheting inside my ribs so violently I could barely breathe. Every instinct screamed to stay still, to vanish into the air somehow. But my trembling body betrayed me—I turned, inch by inch, until my eyes met the shadow in front of me.

The man was tall, his build heavy and confident, his face obscured by flickering light that made his expression shift and twist like smoke. The gun in his hand looked steady, too steady. The casual way he held it sent a fresh wave of terror crawling up my spine.

Before I could even form a word, he stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking my head back so hard that a cry tore from my throat. Pain shot down my scalp, my eyes watering instantly.

“What's a pretty bitch like you doing here, huh?” His voice was deep, cruel, the kind that didn’t need to raise itself to be terrifying. “Who do you work for?”

The words barely made sense at first—I was too caught in the sharp sting where his fingers dug into my scalp. My lips parted, but no sound came out except a broken gasp. I could smell his breath, the sour mix of whiskey and smoke. I wanted to shove him off, scream, anything—but my body wouldn’t obey. My legs felt like water, my mind a blur of panic and disbelief.

Then the world split in two.

A gunshot cracked through the air, deafening, immediate. The sound ripped through my ears, followed by the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder. The man’s body jerked violently, his hand loosening from my hair as he collapsed in a heavy thud against the cold floor.

For a moment, I just stood there—frozen, numb—watching his body twitch once before going still.

The silence that followed was thick and unreal. My breathing turned ragged, shallow, as my vision swam. Then it hit me all at once—the man wasn’t moving. His eyes were open, glassy, empty.

He was dead.

My hands flew to my mouth as a strangled scream tore out of me. “Oh my God—oh my God!” My voice came out broken, foreign, shaking. Tears burned my eyes, spilling over before I could blink them away. I stumbled back, pressing myself against the nearest wall as my knees trembled.

And then—Kevin.

He stood there, a gun still in his hand, chest heaving. His expression was hard, focused, almost unreadable—but there was something in his eyes. Something that twisted my stomach.

“You…” My voice cracked, trembling. “You killed him.”

Kevin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look away. His jaw was tight, muscles in his face strained like he was trying to hold something in.

“Why the hell did you kill him?” I shouted, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My voice was shaking with anger, fear, confusion—everything tangled together in a storm I couldn’t contain.

He stepped forward and grabbed my arm, his grip firm, unrelenting. “You shouldn’t be here in the first place!”

“Let me go!” I screamed, pulling against him, but he only tightened his grip and dragged me toward another room. My feet stumbled against the floor as he yanked me through the doorway and slammed it shut behind us. The sound of the lock clicked—a sound that somehow made everything worse.

The room was small, dimly lit, and suffocatingly close. I could still feel the vibration of the gunshot in my bones, still see the dead man’s eyes every time I blinked. My breath came fast and uneven, like I was drowning in air.

Kevin turned toward me, running a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before finally releasing me.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Abby?” he snapped, his voice raw, heavy with something that sounded like frustration but looked a lot like fear. “Don’t you realize it’s dangerous to be here?”

I could see the veins pulsing in his neck, the wildness in his eyes as if he was fighting himself—his anger, his guilt, maybe something else entirely. For a second, it even looked like he wanted to reach for me again, not to restrain me this time, but for something far more complicated—something desperate.

But all I felt was fury.

“You disappeared, goddammit!” I shot back, tears blurring my vision again. “And what was I supposed to do while you hide away to carry out your mother’s wishes?”

The words tore out of me like they’d been waiting too long to be said. My chest rose and fell fast, my hands shaking, my mind spinning between fear, betrayal, and heartbreak. The sound of my voice filled the room, cracking with every syllable—and for a moment, Kevin just stood there, silent, staring at me like the weight of everything we hadn’t said was pressing down on him, too.

Then his voice came out sharp, almost defensive. “And what do you know about that?”

It wasn’t just annoyance in his tone—it was a kind of disbelief, like he couldn’t accept that I’d even dare to accuse him. But all I could feel was the heat of betrayal flooding through me, burning my chest from the inside out. My throat felt tight, my pulse uneven.

“What do I know?” I whispered, my voice trembling before it rose with the strength of everything I’d been holding in. “I overheard your mother’s conversation on the phone, Kevin. I heard her say she wants to ruin my father—and me—through the merge. And I can’t believe you’re working for her!”

The words came out like shards of glass, cutting me as much as they cut him. My tears blurred everything—his face, the walls, the faint light above us—but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. The anger had cracked open something deeper, something raw and uncontrollable.

“No wonder you pretended like you wanted the same thing as I did,” I said, my voice breaking as I tried to wipe at my tears, but they kept coming anyway. “To ruin the merge so we could be together... You were busy carrying out her orders this whole time in this basement, weren’t you?”

My voice faltered. My chest ached so badly that for a second, I thought I’d stop breathing. “Did I really not mean anything to you after all?” I choked. “Did you just pretend to love me so you could take advantage of me—make me blind, make me not suspect you?”

He tried to speak then, my name falling softly from his lips—“Abby…”—but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t let myself hear it.

“Let me finish, goddammit!” I screamed, my voice shaking with fury.

He went silent, his jaw tightening as I pushed forward, every word trembling but unstoppable.

“Your mother lied about you going on a trip to Mexico,” I said, tears streaking down my face. “She made that up just to keep you hidden here while you carry out—whatever this is.” My voice cracked as I swallowed back a sob. “She said you’d kill for her. And after what I just saw—after you shot that man without even hesitating—I believe her. I believe you’re capable of worse.”

The words tasted bitter. My mind kept flashing back to the lifeless body, the sound of the gunshot, the way Kevin hadn’t even flinched.

“And you’re right,” I continued, my tone trembling with exhaustion and grief, “there are so many damn things I don’t know about you.” My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “So tell me, do you really plan to kill my father?”

Kevin froze. His face twisted with something I couldn’t name—shock, maybe guilt, maybe just the weight of what I’d asked. “God, no…” he said, his voice rough as he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it like he was trying to pull himself together.

“Then what?” I demanded, my voice splintering. “You might as well tell me. What do you and your mother want from us? What is this, Kevin? Who the fuck are you people!”

The silence that followed was unbearable. It felt like time itself was holding its breath. Kevin stared at me for a long moment, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with something that looked too close to pain. And then, finally, he spat it out, his voice trembling with something between anger and truth.

“For god’s sake, Abby,” he hissed, “Nina isn’t my biological mother.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, cutting through the noise in my head and leaving only shock—pure, cold, dizzying shock.