Page 15 of The Devil's Canvas

That’s what stops m, not her beauty, her presence. Not even the way she looks in a dress she clearly hates. It’s her emptiness.

Something inside me pulls tight. Painfully tight.

I don’t know what it is. But I know it’s never happened before.

I inhale sharply, pulse steady but pounding too loud in my ears. And before I can think, before I can even try to understand why this feels like fate snapping into place— A force rips through me, through the room, through everything.

It isn’t a shift. It isn’t a warning. It’s a reckoning. Something I was told would come for me one day. Something I never truly believed. My parents, my aunt, my uncle. They all warned me.

I never listened, never thought it was possible. But now, it’s happening. And there’s no stopping it.

The air thickens, pressing down like an invisible hand closing around my throat, suffocating the moment into existence. Pressure builds—not just around me, but inside me, in my ribs, my veins, something ancient and undeniable forcing itself into reality.

The first spark hits—a flicker of gold beneath her skin. It slithers through her veins like fire, curling, twisting—spreading.

Her body seizes, jerking violently as heat erupts from within, searing through her, deeper than bone, into her soul.

She screams. Not a sound. A rupture.

Raw, agonized, primal—not just pain, but something being ripped from her very core. It crashes through the room, through me, the force of it sinking into my ribs, my lungs, my very being.

And I feel it.

A sharp, visceral sting lances through my chest, piercing muscle, threading through marrow, a burning that isn’t mine but still binds itself to me.

Cassius moves before anyone else.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He doesn’t check if she’s breathing, doesn’t kneel beside her, doesn’t even acknowledge the way she writhes on the floor, gasping for air.

Instead, his jaw tightens, his eyes burning with something sharp, not fear—but rage.

"Get up," he snaps.

She doesn’t move. She can’t.

Her body is still wracked with pain, her breath ragged and uneven. She presses her forehead against the floor, fingers digging into the marble as if she can anchor herself, as if she can make it stop.

Cassius doesn’t care.

His fingers clamp around her arm, yanking her up like she’s nothing.

She stumbles, legs barely holding her, knees buckling under the weight of whatever just tore through her. Another broken cry slips past her lips as she tries to wrench away, but his grip only tightens.

"You are an embarrassment," he hisses. "Do you hear me? An embarrassment to this family."

Her chest heaves, her body still trembling, but she doesn’t speak.

She doesn’t have to.

I see the way she bites down hard, pressing her lips together, her shoulders locking into place. She won’t fight back.

Not because she agrees with him. Because she knows it’s useless.

Cassius shoves open a door—a small, dimly lit room,somewhere to discard her, to keep her out of sight, out of mind—and throws her inside.

She hits the floor, gasping, curling into herself.

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