Children of the Fallen: Bloodlines (BOOK #3)

Chapter 64: Tears Are For The Weak

Morgan Sinclair

My skin hasn't stop incessantly crawling with anxiety at the thought that in a few minutes my sister would be dead. Either from Victoria killing him, or Lucien killing her. Lucien would be experiencing the same symptoms Victoria is. So if Victoria was moving slow and feeling weak. So would Lucien. It would be an easy fight should it come to that.

She was starting to deteriorate, her skin gaunt, eyes rimmed with red and between her coughing up blood and the blood dripping from her nose, even if we didn't do this she would be gone in a day or two. I knew this was a mercy for what's to come. I wouldn't want her to suffer like that, to deteriorate further to the point where she would look like a living corpse and lose her mind on top of that. She's already had a few moments where she blinked rapidly and looked a bit confused during the plane ride.

He walks into the room to find me standing in front of Victoria, trying to hide her physical state right now. Suddenly the pictures in my pocket feel like a weight, pushing on my chest.

The red rim around his eyes and pale skin would have brought a smile to my face watching him be sick, knowing he's soon to die but right now it just makes me angry. He did this. He linked us, he injected her with Nephilim blood, everything is his fault. "Morgan. I figured you would be here." He stood up straight, hands behind his back, trying to appear like he's fine. Refusing to show any weakness. He probably thinks I was breaking my own nose to make it bleed or doing something to make me cough up blood. By the way he's eyeing me, he's pissed at what's not my fault. He just doesn't know it's his.

"I made a promise to Victoria, I wouldn't do what I planned," I start, motioning to Victoria still behind me, holding the dagger in her hand. "Victoria will give you the dagger but you will abide by your deal with Azrael. Go to your palace in Greenland, and never show your face here again."

Posturing, he gives his best intimidating glare. "Do you think I would take orders from my daughters?"

"I'll fight Victoria for the dagger, win, and kill myself right now. Call my bluff if you want."

Stepping closer, my skin crawls. Each step, an actual step closer to Victoria's death. "I counter that offer with you give me the dagger. I kill Victoria for being a traitorous cunt," he snarls, unable to not let this slight go unpunished. Unable to believe he has no chance in this fight as he's unable to admit his own weakness. "Then I go back my territory and my people, and you run."

I exhale, "No deal."

He lunges for Victoria, with a slowness never before seen from him. Victoria with an equal slowness tries to stab him. He blocks it, takes the dagger from her and without hesitation, without any fight from Victoria- her hands at her side accepting her fate, he plunges the blade into her heart. Only, he gasps as well. As do I, my eyes widening, burning from the tears pricking behind them.

His eyes widen. "What?" he murmurs.

"Feel that?" Victoria, grins.

He stumbles back nearly tumbling into the leather chais, touching his matching bleeding wound, slowly coming to the conclusion that he's dying. Shock, confusion, and fear flood his face. He looks to me standing unscathed. Not bleeding, not in any pain, perfectly fine. His wound only matches Victoria's, who now lifts her palm to reveal the blood bond mark now branding her instead of me. "No," he says just as he drops to his knees. A single tear rolls down his face and despite whats going on the corner of my lips lift at the sight.

"Tears are for the weak Lucien," Victoria mocks, breathlessly as blood coming up from the wound paints her lips and she struggles to remain upright.

Before she drops I run over to her and lower her down gently while Lucien flops back to the floor like a ton of bricks, gagging on blood, hoping for some miracle to save him. There's no fan fare for his death, no blinks, no acknowledgement. He's dying an insignificant death. As insignificant as I'm going to make his name.

She smiles up at me with her blood stained teeth. As I take hold of her hand, the tears pour out of me, there was no stopping them or trying to stop them. I looked her over frantically. Fading fast, her heart rate slowing exponentially.

"I'm okay." She gags on more blood. I adjust my grip on her hand. "I'm okay." She repeats significantly frailer than before trying to reassure me.

"I love you," I tell her. She smiles once more before the light in her eyes dims, and slowly, her smile fades, as a stream of blood streams out of the corner of her mouth.

Her vacant deep brown eyes stare up at me. I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Victoria?" I call for her but I know I'll get no answer. She's so limp and empty. There's no daggers being stared, no blunt comments. No Victoria. She wasn't here.

I take the dagger from her chest, the distinct sound of a blade in flesh had bile rising in my throat. Putting it on the floor next to us, I pull her into me hugging her as I sob, unrestrained not caring who heard, or who saw.

In my peripheral, I catch blonde hair waving around. Chloe stops sprinting, frozen in the doorway staring at Victoria's body. "She's gone," I say.

Chloe kneels down next to me, hand on my back rubbing back and forth as we both cry.