"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'?"
The silence didn't break.
It tightened.
Abigail stood there, chest rising just a little faster than before, the tension in her shoulders barely contained as the words echoed back at her. The casual way Anissa said it, like this was expected, like this was already decided, scraped against something raw inside her.
"What the fuck was that?" Abigail repeated, sharper now, stepping further into the room. "No, actually, forget that. Why would you do that?"
Her voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
Every word carried weight, pressed down with years of trust that suddenly felt… misplaced.
"I don't get it," she continued, shaking her head once, slow, controlled. "You went behind our backs. You reported to her like we're just… assets on a board. We're your sisters, Anissa."
Anissa watched her.
Listened.
And for a moment, she didn't answer.
That alone was unsettling.
She's thinking. Calculating.
Then she shifted slightly in her seat, posture still relaxed, gaze unwavering.
"…I always looked up to you."
The words came out unexpectedly.
Quiet.
Measured.
Abigail blinked, the edge in her expression faltering just a fraction.
"What?"
Anissa didn't repeat herself.
She continued.
"You were always ahead," she said, her tone calm, almost reflective. "Even when we were children. You understood things faster. You adapted quicker. You never hesitated when it mattered." A pause. "You were chosen first. Trusted first."
Her fingers rested loosely against the armrest, unmoving, but there was something in her eyes now. Not emotion, not quite. Something colder.
"I envied that."
Abigail's brows pulled together slightly.
"…You're serious right now?"
"I'm being honest," Anissa replied, as if that should've been obvious. "You were the standard. The one we were meant to match."
Another pause.
Then softer.
"And I tried."
The room seemed to shrink around them.
"I tried to reach you," Anissa continued, her gaze sharpening just a little. "To compete. To prove that I could stand at the same level."
Her head tilted slightly.
"But I couldn't."
No bitterness in her voice.
No frustration.
Just fact.
"And I accepted that," she added. "Because you were… correct. In your decisions. In your judgment, always."
Her eyes locked onto Abigail's now.
Unblinking.
"Which is why this is disappointing."
The shift was immediate.
Cold.
Precise.
Abigail felt it hit her before she even fully processed the words.
"…Disappointing?" she echoed, a hint of disbelief slipping through.
Anissa nodded once.
"Yes."
Simple and definitive.
"If anyone was supposed to complete this mission without error," she said, her tone sharpening just enough to cut, "it was you."
A beat.
"But you didn't."
The words settled heavy.
"You hesitated. You deviated. You allowed variables that shouldn't exist... I mean just think of it this way Abi, your hot and yet somehow you can't get a guy to sleep with you..." She paused a sisnister smirk forming, "And men are like dogs, they'll fuck anything with a pulse. And yet somehow you failed at that."
Abigail's jaw tightened. "That's not what this is."
"It is Abi. Our mission is simple. Sleep with Adam and get pregnant. Once the child is born we kill Adam and the bloodright transfers into the Thorne family. What's so hard about that?," Anissa asked as if the answer was super obvious before sighing in disappointment. "You've become compromised sis'."
The word landed like a verdict.
"You've grown attached to the target."
"He's not a target," Abigail snapped before she could stop herself.
Silence.
Anissa's gaze didn't change.
But something behind it… shifted subtly.
"That," she said quietly, "is exactly the problem."
Abigail exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair as she paced once, the energy building under her skin now impossible to ignore.
"You don't even hear yourself," she muttered. "Listen to what you're saying. 'Target'? 'Objective'? He's a person, Anissa."
Anissa didn't respond. Didn't interrupt.
So Abigail kept going.
"All our lives, we've been treated like tools," she said, her voice steadier now, deeper, something more grounded beneath the frustration. "Like everything we are only matters if it serves them. Every decision, every move, every… relationship."
Her chest tightened slightly.
Every feeling.
"And we just accepted it," she continued, shaking her head. "We never questioned it. Never stopped to think maybe… maybe there's more than just what they want."
Anissa's expression remained neutral.
But her eyes…
They were watching closely.
Analyzing.
"You think this is about weakness," Abigail said, her voice lowering, more controlled now, more deliberate. "It's not. It's the first time I've actually had to think for myself. To decide what's right without being told." A pause. "And that scares you."
That… almost got a reaction.
Almost.
Anissa's fingers shifted slightly against the armrest.
Barely noticeable.
"You're projecting," she replied calmly. "You've lost clarity. That's all."
"No!," Abigail said, stepping closer now, her gaze locking in. "I've gained it."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The air between them felt charged.
Unstable.
"There is no 'more,' Abigail," Anissa said finally, her tone flattening again, returning to that cold certainty. "There is only the family. Everything else is irrelevant."
Her gaze hardened.
"And right now, you're not suitable."
The words hit harder than anything before.
"You're not fit to carry the next heir to the Blood Right," Anissa continued. "Not like this. Not with… attachments."
Abigail's hands curled slightly at her sides.
She really believes that.
"I can complete the mission," Anissa added. "Without hesitation. Without corruption."
A pause.
"That's why I was chosen. That's why i should've been chosen from the beginning."
Silence.
Then Abigail let out a quiet breath, something shifting behind her eyes now. Not anger.
Not just anger.
Something deeper.
"You're wrong," she said.
Anissa tilted her head slightly.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
Abigail's voice didn't waver this time.
"There's more to this than just her. Than just the Thornes. You just… refuse to see it."
"And you've convinced yourself that this 'more' justifies failure," Anissa replied.
"It's not failure," Abigail snapped. "It's choice."
"Then you've already chosen wrong."
That did it.
The tension snapped tighter, the space between them shrinking as Abigail took another step forward, her pulse steady but heavy, something dangerous building beneath the surface.
"If you go through with this," she said, low and sharp, "I'll stop you."
Anissa didn't flinch.
"If you interfere," she replied, just as quietly, "you prove my point."
A beat.
"And more importantly… you betray the family."
The word hung there.
Treason. The unforgivable sin.
Abigail felt it press against her chest, heavy, suffocating.
"Don't pretend this is about morality," Anissa continued. "Pick a side."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you with us… or against us?"
Silence.
The kind that feels like it's about to explode.
For a moment, it looked like Abigail might move.
Might close the distance.
Might strike.
And Anissa…
She didn't shift.
Didn't brace.
Didn't prepare.
She just watched. Waiting.
She wants me to do it.
The realization hit clean.
Sharp.
She wants me to cross that line.
To make it undeniable.
To give her exactly what she needed.
Abigail's jaw tightened.
Her breath steadied and then…
She stepped back.
Anissa's eyes flickered, just slightly.
Barely noticeable.
But it was there.
Abigail turned without another word, her steps quick, controlled, the tension still burning under her skin as she moved toward the door.
"Run from it if you want," Anissa said behind her, voice calm, almost indifferent. "It won't change anything."
Abigail didn't respond.
The door opened.
Closed.
And just like that, the confrontation ended.
But nothing about it was resolved.
The hallway felt colder than before as Abigail moved through it, her pace quickening, thoughts racing faster than she could organize them.
Pick a side.
The words echoed.
Again.
And again.
Her room door shut behind her with a muted thud.
Silence.
Real silence this time.
Her space and her control.
The room reflected her in ways few things did.
Dark wood furniture, polished and expensive, lined with quiet precision. A large bed sat centered against the far wall, layered in deep charcoal and muted violet tones, the fabric soft but heavy. Tall bookshelves filled one entire side of the room, packed tight with worn spines and neatly stacked volumes, some marked, some half-read, some memorized.
The curtains were drawn, thick and dark, letting only a sliver of moonlight slip through, casting a faint silver line across the floor.
Minimal and intentional.
Everything had a place and more importantly, everything made sense.
Unlike this.
Abigail exhaled slowly, moving toward the sink, turning the tap on as cold water rushed out. She cupped it in her hands, bringing it to her face, letting it soak into her skin, grounding her for just a second.
It didn't help.
Not enough.
Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, identical to her sisters, yet now it felt… different.
Uncertain.
She grabbed a towel, drying her face, then moved toward her bed, picking up a book from the side table without really thinking about which one.
Familiar weight.
Familiar texture.
She sat.
Opened it.
Tried to read.
The words blurred almost immediately.
Pick a side.
Her grip tightened slightly on the pages.
She's wrong.
Another line.
She's not entirely wrong.
Her jaw clenched.
What are we even doing?
The question lingered longer than she wanted it to.
For the first time… it didn't feel easy to answer.
All their lives, everything had been clear.
Serve the family.
Fulfill the objective.
Nothing else mattered.
But now…
Now there was Adam.
And that complicated everything.
Not because he was the target.
But because of what he represented.
Choice and something real.
Something that didn't come with conditions attached.
Her fingers pressed harder against the book without her noticing.
If I follow through with this…
The thought trailed.
Didn't need to finish, she already knew.
...And if I don't…
Her chest tightened. Anissa's voice echoed again.
Treason. Unforgivable, right?
A slow breath left her. long and controlled.
Then I choose...
The realization settled in, not rushed, not emotional, but deliberate.
...I choose the side that would choose me back.
Her grip tightened fully this time.
The pages crumpled slightly under the pressure.
She stilled. Blinking before looking down.
The book in her hands had bent inward, the spine strained, pages warped from the force she hadn't realized she was applying.
A quiet, almost bitter exhale escaped her.
"…Shit."
Her fingers loosened immediately, but the damage was done.
The cover was creased and the pages uneven. It had been one of her favorites.
For a moment, she just stared at it. Then leaned back slightly, the weight of everything settling in all at once.
The choice had been made.
And there was no going back.