Seamus let out a quiet, bitter laugh. In the end, they were no different from Isolde. Different methods, same hunger. Power, dominance, control.
The realization made his stomach twist with disgust, as if invisible chains were closing around him again.
It feels like choosing the lesser of two evils.
"Then my answer is no," Seamus said flatly. "I despise your kind, and I choose my own."
Mark laughed, unfazed. "That is fine. There is always another way."
Behind Seamus, mechanical cables slid into motion, needles gleaming as they surged forward toward his spine.
He reacted instantly. His eyes closed as something within him shifted, restraints tearing apart under his grip.
He caught the needle midair and crushed it, the fragments dissolving into ash before they touched the floor.
When Seamus stood, the world fractured.
The sterile white dissolved into darkness as the ground bloomed with crimson flowers, their petals burning like open flames.
