The study felt colder than the rest of the estate.
Not by temperature, but by presence.
The hearth crackled low, orange light licking the edges of dark wood shelves lined with books that hadn't been touched in years. Shadows stretched long across the carpet, bending and shifting with each flicker of flame, swallowing detail, leaving only silhouettes and tension behind.
Abigail knelt in the center.
Head slightly bowed. Back straight. Hands resting neatly over her thighs.
Amber to her right, Anissa to her left.
All three identical.
All three silent.
And yet the weight pressing down on Abigail felt entirely her own.
How does she know?
The thought settled heavy in her chest, refusing to move.
Their mother leaned against the edge of her desk, arms loosely crossed, posture relaxed in a way that made everything worse. She wasn't pacing. She wasn't shouting. Her stillness carried more authority than anger ever could.
Disappointment, however, lingered in every word.
"You've had more than enough time."
Her voice cut clean through the room, calm and controlled, each syllable deliberate.
"And yet here we are."
Abigail kept her gaze low, eyes fixed somewhere near the carpet fibers, though she wasn't really seeing anything. Her mind ran ahead, scrambling, calculating, searching for ground that no longer existed.
Stay composed. Don't react. Don't give her anything.
"The objective was simple," Elizabeth continued, pushing herself slightly off the desk, her silhouette shifting as the firelight caught her face at a sharper angle. "Get close. Build trust. Secure the Blood Right."
A pause.
Then quieter.
"And yet, not one of you has managed to complete the task."
The words settled over them like ash.
Amber shifted slightly beside her, subtle but noticeable. Anissa remained perfectly still, head dipped, expression unreadable.
Abigail's jaw tightened just a fraction. "It's not—"
"Don't."
The interruption was immediate. Soft. Absolute.
Abigail's mouth closed.
Her throat felt dry.
Elizabeth's gaze locked onto her now. Not the group. Not the sisters.
Her.
"You took responsibility for this," Elizabeth said, her tone narrowing, sharpening without raising in volume. "You insisted on handling it personally."
Each word landed heavier than the last.
"And I trusted your judgment."
Abigail felt it then. That sting.
Not from the accusation.
From the truth inside it.
"I am handling it," Abigail replied, her voice steady, controlled, though something strained beneath it. "These things take time. Rushing it would—"
"—Would what?" Elizabeth cut in, tilting her head slightly, eyes narrowing with faint curiosity rather than anger. "Compromise your… connection?"
The word hung there.
Deliberate.
Precise.
Abigail's chest tightened.
No. Don't react.
"I don't know what you're implying," she said, but even to her own ears, it sounded thinner than she intended.
Elizabeth watched her for a moment.
Then she smiled. Not warmly.
Not cruelly.
Just knowingly.
"I'm implying," she said softly, "that you've allowed emotion to interfere with function."
Silence.
The fire cracked.
Somewhere in the distance, the house shifted with a faint creak.
Abigail's fingers pressed slightly into her thighs.
"That's not true."
But the words came slower this time.
Less certain.
Elizabeth straightened, stepping forward just enough for the firelight to fully catch her face. The shadows retreated from her eyes, revealing something far more unsettling than anger.
Clarity.
"I know you better than you think, Abigail."
A pause.
Then, quieter.
"You've grown attached."
The words didn't echo.
They sank.
And for the first time since the conversation began, Abigail's composure slipped.
Not outwardly and not in a way most would notice.
But inside, something shifted.
A crack.
No…
Her thoughts faltered, pulling up memories she hadn't meant to revisit.
Adam laughing. Adam looking at her, not like an objective, not like a target.
Like a person.
Her stomach twisted.
That's not… that's not what this is.
She opened her mouth to respond.
Closed it again.
Because the argument forming in her mind felt… weak.
Incomplete.
And that terrified her more than Elizabeth's words.
"…I haven't," she said finally, but the conviction wasn't there.
Not fully.
And Elizabeth noticed.
Of course she did.
The smile faded.
"Disappointing."
The word wasn't harsh and somehow that made it worse.
Abigail's gaze dropped further, her thoughts spiraling, trying to piece together when exactly things had started to blur.
When the mission stopped feeling like a mission.
When Adam stopped feeling like a target.
When did that happen…?
"I expected better from you," Elizabeth continued, her tone returning to that calm, measured cadence. "Which is precisely why I made a contingency."
Abigail's brows knit slightly.
A flicker of confusion cutting through the weight pressing down on her.
"…A contingency?"
Elizabeth's gaze shifted.
Not far.
Just enough.
Toward Anissa.
Both Abigail and Amber followed the movement almost instinctively.
Anissa hadn't moved.
Still kneeling. Still composed. Still silent.
Eyes lowered and expression empty. But now… now it made sense.
"I had assigned Anissa to observe," Elizabeth said, her voice even. "To ensure progress remained on track."
The words landed like a quiet explosion.
Abigail's head snapped slightly toward her sister.
Amber turned as well, her expression tightening with something sharper. Surprise. Irritation. Maybe even betrayal.
But Anissa…
Didn't react.
Didn't look up.
Didn't defend herself.
She simply existed in that same still posture, as if the revelation had nothing to do with her.
You…
Abigail felt heat rise in her chest, sharp and immediate.
"You were reporting on us?" Amber muttered under her breath, though the words carried.
Still, Anissa didn't respond.
Elizabeth, however, did.
"I chose her because she is the least likely to be… compromised."
Another deliberate pause.
"And I was right."
The implication was clear.
Painfully so.
Abigail's teeth clenched, her pulse picking up as the pieces locked into place.
Every moment.
Every interaction was watched, measured and judged.
By my own sister.
"She has provided… valuable insight," Elizabeth added, her tone almost approving now as she glanced at Anissa again. "Which is why the mission will proceed under her leadership moving forward."
That hit harder than anything else.
Abigail's head lifted slightly, eyes widening just a fraction.
"You're… reassigning it?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No room for negotiation.
"Amber will stand down. You will stand down."
Each word was final.
"Anissa will complete the objective."
For the first time, Anissa moved.
Just slightly.
Her head lifted, eyes opening fully as she looked forward.
Not at Elizabeth.
Not at her sisters.
Just ahead.
"I understand," she said quietly.
Her voice carried no excitement.
No hesitation.
Just acceptance.
"I'll ensure results before the end of the month." She pasued a beat. Then, almost as an afterthought. "Willingly… or forcefully if it comes to that."
The room didn't react.
But the meaning settled heavy.
Cold and clinical.
Abigail felt something twist violently in her chest.
She means it.
There was no emotion in Anissa's tone.
No hesitation.
Just purpose.
And that… that was what made it worse.
Elizabeth smiled again, faint but satisfied.
"Good."
She turned away slightly, signaling the end.
"You're dismissed."
No further discussion. No space to argue.
Just like that, it was over.
The three of them rose in unison, movements synchronized out of habit more than intention. The door opened with a soft creak, the hallway beyond dim and quiet in contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the study.
And then they stepped out.
The door closed behind them with a quiet click.
Silence.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Then Amber exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.
"…Whatever," she muttered, her tone laced with irritation more than anything else. "Not my problem anymore."
She didn't look at either of them.
Didn't wait.
She just turned and walked off down the hall, her footsteps fading quickly into the distance.
Anissa moved next.
No sigh.
No visible reaction.
She simply turned in the opposite direction, her steps calm, measured, as if nothing of importance had just occurred.
As if nothing had changed.
But Abigail didn't move.
She stood there still.
Frozen in the aftermath.
She… snitched on me.
The thought looped, sharper each time.
Her chest felt tight. Her mind louder.
Anger began to rise, slow at first, then all at once.
Hot. Focused and personal.
Her eyes snapped up, locking onto Anissa's retreating figure just before she turned the corner.
No.
That wasn't happening.
Not like this.
Abigail turned sharply, her steps quick, purposeful, heels striking the floor with controlled force as she followed.
The rec room door creaked open.
Dim light spilled out.
Anissa was already inside.
Of course she was.
Seated comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed in a way that felt almost… intentional.
Waiting.
Abigail stepped in, the door shutting behind her with more force than necessary.
"What the fuck was that?"
The words came out sharp, cutting through the room without hesitation.
Anissa didn't flinch.
Didn't even look surprised.
Instead, she leaned back slightly, her gaze lifting to meet Abigail's with calm, almost detached curiosity.
"I had a feeling you'd come," she said simply.
A pause.
Then, tilting her head just slightly.
"Do you have something to say?"
Her eyes held steady.
Unmoving.
"…Or is it just 'what the fuck'?"
Silence stretched between them.
Thick.
Unresolved.
And just beneath it…
Something ready to snap.