Chapter 135 Chapter 135
“You really ruined everything,” she said, not loudly, almost conversationally, and that made it worse because she sounded convinced. I swallowed, throat dry, trying to keep my voice steady even while fear crawled slowly up my spine.
“I didn’t do anything to you.”
She laughed, short and humorless, turning toward me with eyes that didn’t look like family anymore.
“You existed,” she said. “You entered our lives, my life, and that was enough," she snapped.
I shook my head weakly, my pulse thudding harder when I noticed her hands trembling, not afraid but unstable, and unstable people didn’t stop once they started.
“You think he chose you because you’re special,” she continued, crouching in front of me. “He chose you because you’re weak," she said with a smirk, and my chest tightened, but I forced the words out.
“You don’t know him.”
Her expression changed then, sharp irritation flashing across her face.
“No,” she whispered, leaning closer. “You don’t know him.”
For a moment neither of us spoke, and the quiet pressed in around us until the faint sound of a car somewhere outside drifted through the broken windows, distant but real, and something inside me steadied because there was only one person who would come this far without hesitation. Avani noticed the shift in my eyes and followed my gaze toward the door. Her jaw clenched.
“He found you,” I said softly.
The sound of footsteps approached, slow and deliberate, and Avani stood quickly, pulling a knife from the table beside her in one fluid motion that made my breath catch because I knew that look in her eyes; it was panic buried under anger.
“Don’t,” I said immediately, fear snapping through me. “You don’t understand what he’ll do," I said, and her grip tightened around the handle.
“He won’t touch me,” she said.
The door opened, and Zaiel stepped inside, calm and composed, the air around him changing in a way that always felt impossible to explain because nothing about his expression was loud, yet everything in the room shifted toward him like gravity had changed direction. No, that wasn't Zaiel; that was Kai.
His eyes found me first; they softened for half a second, then they moved to Avani, and all the warmth disappeared and the silence stretched thin.
“You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly.
Avani lifted the knife slightly, not toward him but toward me, and my stomach dropped because she still thought this was a standoff.
“You always choose her,” she snapped.
“Yes,” he replied simply.
Her breathing quickened, anger unraveling into desperation. “I’m your sister!”
He didn’t even blink.
“You stopped being that when you decided to hurt her.”
For a moment she hesitated, and I saw the uncertainty flicker across her face, the realization arriving too late, and I tried one last time because despite everything she didn’t understand what line she had crossed.
“Avani,” I said shakily. “Listen to me. Zaiel is your brother, but Kai isn't, and when it comes to me, he won’t see blood; he’ll only see damage, so please put it down.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, fury igniting. “You made him like this!” she said, and before I could move, the knife cut across my side.
Pain exploded through me, sharp and blinding, a gasp tearing from my chest as warmth spread beneath my hands and the world tilted sideways while I struggled to breathe; everything went quiet, dead quiet. I looked up through the haze and saw him. He didn’t rush, and he didn’t even shout but walked; he walked. Every step was measured, controlled, and inevitable, like the decision had been made long before this moment ever existed.
Avani backed away, fear finally replacing anger as she realized too late that she hadn’t threatened him; she had confirmed something.
"Zaiel…" she whispered.
He reached her, and what happened next was fast, almost gentle in movement, and that somehow made it worse because there was no rage on his face, only certainty, and the finality of it hit harder than any scream could have.
The sound of the knife hitting the floor echoed louder than anything else; my breathing shook, and my vision blurred as I watched her collapse, and the weight of what I had just seen settled into my chest heavier than pain.
He had meant it—not anyone, everyone, even family.
He turned back to me immediately, dropping to his knees beside me, hands steady as they pressed against the wound while his voice softened in a way that felt almost unreal compared to the silence behind him.
“Stay with me,” he murmured. My fingers trembled against his sleeve.
“You… you killed her,” I whispered, not accusing, just understanding.
His gaze held mine, unwavering. “She hurt you," he said.
The world spun slowly, and I realized this wasn’t fury or revenge or loss; this was protection in its purest and most terrifying form, and for the first time I understood there was no place in his world where I wasn’t the center of it. I should have been horrified; part of me was.
But as he lifted me carefully into his arms and held me like I was something fragile instead of the reason blood stained the floor, another feeling curled quietly beneath the fear: safety, not from the world, but from everything except him, and that was the moment I knew there was no going back for either of us.
I woke to quiet, not the peaceful quiet from the island, not waves or wind or soft morning light slipping through curtains, but the kind that sits heavy in a room where machines hum and people move softly because something serious already happened and nobody wants to disturb what survived it.
My side burned before I even opened my eyes fully, a deep aching pull every time I breathed too deeply, and the scent of antiseptic told me where I was before memory finished catching up. Hospital.
The warehouse slammed back into my head in fragments instead of a single image: Avani’s eyes, the flash of metal, the warmth spreading across my shirt, and then him walking toward her with that expression I had seen only a few times in my life and never aimed at blood before. My fingers tightened against the sheets; the chair beside the bed creaked softly.
“I was wondering when you’d wake up.” Zaiel’s voice came low and steady but rougher than usual, like he hadn’t slept, and when I turned my head he was already watching me, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly enough that the tendons stood out across his knuckles. For a moment neither of us spoke.
I studied his face, searching for something different after what he had done—guilt, hesitation, regret—but there was only focus, the same unwavering certainty that had filled the warehouse.
“You stayed,” I whispered, and his brow furrowed slightly.
“Of course I did," he said.
I swallowed, throat dry. “She was your sister.” The air changed, but he didn’t look away.