h4Chapter 85: Alice’s Picture/h4

    strongEira’s POV/strong

    Jason left in anger when I refused to listen to him. Why would I? I never asked for his fake concern. I would not die from wounds like these, and their purpose of fucking me would still be served.

    They could hurt me, insult me with their filthy words, and I would take it. But I could not stomach false concern, not from them or anyone. So fuck it.

    Standing beneath the shower, I let the water wash away the exhaustion clinging to my skin. The vivid memories of Alice’s death surfacedst night like my worst nightmare and how I wished to reverse time at that moment.

    Watching Lucian on the brink of death had felt almost as unbearable as seeing Alice die and both the deaths were going to be my fault.

    For the first time in past six years, I regretted trying to take my own life. That choice had almost taken his life with mine. If he had diedst night, Alice would never have forgiven me. She had loved her brothers more than anything, and a single scratch on them had been enough to pain her. And there he had been, dying—because of me.

    And for Alice’s sake, I could never wish death on any of them. Her brother, their friends were the people she cherished.

    I still remembered her saying. "All five of them are just perfect together. I hope their friendship will never change, at least not because of any girl. That Sophia, I sometimes wonder if she will harm their friendship. I don’t know why Kael even likes her. That rich polished good for nothing doll."

    Once she even asked me, "Do you like anyone of these five? If so, tell me and I will try my best to hook you with them, ept for one. You know I like him, right?"

    I could only nod at that time, but didn’t dare confess to her that I was already with one of them. I wish, I had told her back then like an honest friend. She was so good to me, while I hid things from her.

    I didn’t bother searching for soap or shower gel. I didn’t care. There was a time when I did care—when I would think about how I looked, how I smelled—because of him. That boy with the most beautiful eyes. But not anymore.

    When I stepped out of the shower, I looked down at my soaked bandages. Water and blood had blended into a diluted red. I tore them off and threw them into the trash without hesitation, leaving a trail of bloody footprints as I walked.

    I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped into the room. A simple act like this left me breathless, and the pain in my chest never left.

    If they had kicked my chest, they should have done it properly. Put in enough strength to end it. These Alphas were useless—they couldn’t even kick someone well enough to kill them. Not even someone as weak as me.

    I saw the shirt Jason had tossed onto the bed for me. Picking it up, I caught a faint, familiar scent clinging to it. I ignored it and slipped it on, my wet hair soaking the fabric along my back.

    I was just about to dry my hair when something caught my eye—a photo frame on the shelf. One nce was enough for my breath to hitch.

    Alice.

    The towel slid from my fingers as I crossed the room quickly, my hands almost trembling when I picked it up. I stared at her face, a small smile curving my lips even as my eyes burned with tears.

    Her face was luminous, as though it held its own gentle light. Shoulder-length hair, the color of warm honey-brown, framed her features in soft waves. Her eyes shone like distant stars, always alight with warmth and mischief, and her smile—pure, unguarded—held the innocence of a child. She carried with her an aura of life itself, a quiet joy that seemed to fill the air around her, making the world feel brighter simply by existing in it.

    After all these years, I was finally looking at her again. I traced my thumb over the ss, imagining I could reach through it, touch her, speak to her.

    Sitting on the edge of the bed, I clutched the frame and let my tears fall freely.

    "Alice... I was afraid one day I’d forget how you looked. Finally, I can imprint you into my mind again," I whispered.

    A choked sob escaped. "I’m sorry... I want toe to you, but I can’t. I don’t know how. You must be lonely there. You must miss me, right? I’ll try... I’ll try my best toe to you soon. I’m sorry I didn’t know about my powers back then. If I had... I would have saved you. I’m sorry... I’ve always been useless, you know. I still am."

    The door creaked open, and before I could even turn, the frame was ripped from my hands.

    "How dare you touch her picture?"

    Lucian.

    I didn’t meet his eyes. He had every right to be furious when it came to his sister.

    "Just because you’re allowed to stay in my room doesn’t mean you can go around touching my things," he spat, striding to the wardrobe. He shoved the picture into a drawer and turned to re at me. "Don’t you dare touch anything in here, or I’ll burn it all. Keep your filthy hands to yourself."

    I stayed silent, the tears still slipping from my eyes. His words didn’t wound me—it was the loss of Alice’s picture from my hands that hurt. All I wanted to look at her for a while and talk to her, but...

    His sudden growl broke the quiet. "What the fuck is this? Blood? Your existence isn’t enough that you’re leaving your filthy blood everywhere now?"

    I lowered my gaze to my feet, the cause of the mess.

    I didn’t answer. I heard him moving about the room with sharp, impatient steps, and then he was in front of me, kneeling with a first-aid box he set heavily on the floor.

    He took my foot in his hand. I flinched and tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. He didn’t look at me, and I kept my eyes averted as well. I had almost caused his deathst night, and for Alice’s sake, I would endure whatever he wished without protest.

    He worked quickly, wrapping fresh bandages around my wounds. His voice was ice when he finally spoke. "Spill your filthy blood around here again, and I’ll make sure to chop your feet. The scent is nauseating."

    He sounded utterly disgusted, and I couldn’t me him. I was disgusted with myself too. There wasn’t a part of me—flesh or soul—that wasn’t tainted and foul by now.

    When he finished, he stood, tossed a small napkin onto myp, and ordered, "Clean the blood from the floor. I don’t want a single trace left. And dry your hair. You look disgusting this way. Though you are just a fuck toy, I would like to fuck something that is at least a little pleasing to eyes."

    I took it without a word as he crossed to the wardrobe, pulled out a few of his belongings, and stalked out of the room, his anger following him like a shadow.

    Quietly, I set to work, wiping every crimson stain from the floor. When I was done, my gaze drifted to the wardrobe. Inside, in the drawer, was Alice’s picture. My fingers itched to open it and take it back into my hands—but I stopped myself.

    What if he took that picture away from here? It’s enough that she is right there, in the same room.