The silence after Dr. Theron left was a physical weight. Kaelen remained frozen in the doorway of her suite, her body thrumming with the aftershocks of the System's punishment and the artificial high of the Dominion gel. The number -100% was a ghost burned onto her retinas, a constant, accusing reminder.
From the living room, she could hear the soft, even sound of Sera's sedated breathing. It was a sound that should have signaled relief, but to Kaelen, it was a testament to her failure. She had shown a flicker of decency, and the universe or rather, the vindictive spirit of the original Kaelen had responded with absolute condemnation.
She needed to move. To do something. The gel was already making her feel jittery, her thoughts racing down dark, panicked paths. She pushed away from the doorframe and paced the cold floor of her suite, her smart lenses automatically dimming the room's lights to a somber glow in response to her elevated stress levels.
Schedule Reminder: Morning Briefing with CEO Blackwood. 08:00. Executive Suite. Mandatory.
The notification was a cold splash of water. Magnus Blackwood. Her… father. The ruthless architect of all this misery. Facing him, mere hours after this catastrophic failure, while trying to maintain the facade of his cruel, dominant heir, felt impossible.
A new, different chime echoed through the penthouse, this one from the main entrance. It wasn't the soft tone of the doctor's access; it was sharper, more imperious.
Lilith Blackwood. Alpha. Sibling. Access: Granted.
Before Kaelen could even process the alert, the front door slid open. Lilith stood there, silhouetted against the brighter hallway lights. She was every bit the corporate Dominant Alpha tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored slate grey suit, her dark hair pulled into a severe knot. Her scent, a cool blend of ozone and sandalwood, cut through the lingering traces of Heat Surge and distress.
Her sharp eyes scanned the room in one efficient sweep, taking in the scene: the discarded Bonding Bracelet, the empty suppressant applicator on a side table, the still form of Sera on the sofa. Her expression remained an unreadable mask, but her gaze lingered on Sera for a fraction of a second too long before snapping to Kaelen.
"Well," Lilith said, her voice a dry, low alto devoid of warmth. "Cassian's little bird told him you were finally making a mess of things. I see he wasn't exaggerating."
Kaelen's heart hammered against her ribs. She crossed her arms, hoping to hide the tremor in her hands. The Dominion gel fed her a surge of defensive arrogance. "It's handled. It's none of your concern."
Lilith took a few steps into the room, her heels clicking softly on the concrete. She didn't look at Sera again, but her presence seemed to make the air itself tense. "Everything in this family is my concern, little sister. Especially when it involves a spectacle that could damage our reputation." She finally turned her full attention to Kaelen, her gaze analytical, dissecting. "Father heard. He's… displeased. He expects control. Not this fumbling theatrics."
The words were a direct hit. Kaelen flinched, and she saw Lilith's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.
Warning: Display of weakness in front of a perceived threat. Approval at risk.
The System's message was redundant. She knew she was failing. She forced a sneer. "I have it under control. The Vesper is exactly where she belongs. Broken and compliant." The words tasted like poison.
Lilith didn't respond immediately. She simply stared, and Kaelen felt like a specimen under a microscope. The silence stretched, becoming more unnerving than any of Cassian's vitriolic outbursts.
"You're shaking," Lilith observed, her tone flat.
"Dominion spike," Kaelen lied quickly, the excuse ready on her tongue. "Needed it to deal with… that." She jerked her chin towards Sera.
"Hmm." It was a non committal sound. Lilith's eyes drifted away, landing on the small wooden photo frame tucked behind the sculpture. Her expression didn't change, but something in her posture shifted, a minute tightening. "Clean this up before the morning briefing," she said finally, her voice losing none of its coolness. "Father's displeasure is not a thing to be courted. And for God's sake, get your pheromones in check. You smell… conflicted."
Without another word, she turned and left, the door sliding shut behind her, leaving Kaelen alone once more with the crushing silence and her own terrifying incompetence.
She had survived the encounter, but it felt like a loss. Lilith hadn't bought her performance. She'd seen the cracks.
As if on cue, the System delivered its judgment.
Analysis: Interaction with sibling "Lilith" concluded. Performance assessed as inadequate. Failure to project convincing dominance or control. Underlying anxiety and physical tremors noted.
The number remained, a stagnant pool of failure. No further penalty came, which was somehow worse. It was as if the System had given up on punishing her, accepting that she was simply, irredeemably, a perfect negative.
Kaelen's eyes were drawn back to Sera, sleeping fitfully on the sofa. This woman was the key. The source of the original's hatred and the focal point of the plot. To survive, to maybe just maybe claw her way out of this negative hell, she had to understand the hatred. She had to embody it, even if every cell in her body rebelled against it.
She walked slowly into the living room, her steps silent on the floor. She stood over Sera, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. The brutal mark on her neck was an ugly contrast to her delicate features.
"Your family took my mother from me!" the memory of the original's rage screamed in her head.
Kaelen closed her eyes, trying to summon the feeling, to tap into the borrowed grief. She pictured a woman she'd never met Lilia Blackwood. She imagined the fire, the panic, a mother choosing to save her child and dying for it. She imagined a little girl, the original Kaelen, watching it happen, her life defined by that single, catastrophic moment. And then she imagined that girl being forced to live with a reminder of that loss every single day.
A strange, cold sensation began to uncoil in her stomach. It wasn't her emotion. It was a phantom limb of rage, a deep, ancient bitterness that belonged to the body she now inhabited.
When she opened her eyes, her gaze on Sera's sleeping form felt different. Less like pity, and more like… recognition. Recognition of a pain so vast it could only be met with equal fury.
The smart mirror in her bedroom reflected her face from across the suite. The expression there was not her own. It was harder. Colder.
The -100% flickered.
For a single, heart stopping second, it changed.
Approval: -99%.
Then it snapped back to -100%.
It was a fluctuation. A glitch. But it was something. A sign that the path forward, however horrifying, was through the hatred. Not away from it.
The abyss was still there, but she had seen a single, precarious handhold. She would have to claw her way up using the very darkness that wanted to consume her.