The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Twenty Three: Charlotte ❦

I stand outside the heavy wooden door of my father's office, the imposing barrier between us. The list in my hand feels heavier than it should, every name on it a gamble I'm ready to take. It's not just a piece of paper; it's a declaration of my choices, a small act of rebellion against my father's unyielding expectations.

Taking a deep breath, I knock. The voice from within is gruff and impatient. "Enter."

I push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. The air is thick with the scent of old leather and the sharp, acrid tang of whiskey. My father is seated behind his desk, his posture rigid and his expression hardened by years of ruling and resentment. He lifts his gaze slowly from the papers scattered in front of him, his eyes narrowing as they settle on me.

"Charlotte," he says, his tone cold but controlled. "What brings you here?"

I approach the desk, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. I hold out the list, trying to keep my hands steady. "I've narrowed down the candidates for the Crown Circle."

He takes the list without a word, his fingers brushing mine as he examines it. I watch his face closely, looking for any hint of approval or disapproval. His eyes dart across the names, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

"What is this?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Jameson, Oliver, Sebastian, Alexander, Everett and... Atlas?"

"Yes," I reply, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Those are the names I've chosen. Jasper is not on this list."

His expression darkens immediately, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looks at me. "So you've decided to defy me?"

I feel a shiver run down my spine. The hatred in his eyes is palpable, an almost physical presence that I've grown used to but never lessened in its intensity. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, the sharpness of the whiskey mixing with the bitterness of his anger. I brace myself for what's to come, knowing that both the mental and physical onslaught is imminent.

"You're making a grave mistake," he says, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "A Five? Do you have any idea what that means?"

I keep my voice steady, though my hands are trembling slightly. "I believe in giving people a chance, regardless of their Stratum."

His gaze turns icy, and before I can react, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a blade. The metal catches the light, and I barely have time to process what's happening before the sharp edge is biting into my neck. The pain is immediate and searing, a fiery sting that makes me gasp.

I don't scream. I can't afford to. I know that if I make any noise, it will only provoke him further. Instead, I grit my teeth, trying to remain as still as possible, my body frozen with a mixture of fear and determination.

The pain is almost unbearable, a red-hot line of fire cutting across my skin. My vision blurs slightly, but I focus on the wall behind my father, the only thing I can bear to look at right now. The seconds stretch into an eternity, each one marked by the rhythmic, agonising burn of the blade.

Finally, he pulls back, his breathing heavy, his eyes still seething with anger. The blade drips with my blood, and I feel a hot rush trickle down my collarbone, staining my dress. I wait, my pulse racing, for the moment when his rage will dissipate.

"Who do you want?" I ask quietly, my voice strained but steady. I try to keep my tone as calm as possible, though the pain makes it difficult.

He looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of contempt and frustration. "Jasper," he says finally, his voice cold. "He stays. As for the Five, you should have known better."

I swallow hard, my throat dry and scratchy. "No. Jasper will be added, but Atlas stays."

The room falls into a tense silence, the air heavy with unspoken fury. My father's eyes bore into me, and for a moment, I fear he might lash out again. But he only nods slowly, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

"Very well," he says through gritted teeth. "But remember, Charlotte, this is your final chance. One more mistake, and you'll regret it."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, each step a careful manoeuvre to avoid drawing more attention to the wound that's still bleeding, though now less profusely.

Once I'm in the hallway, away from his office, the tears come. They start as a quiet, stifled sob, but soon they're pouring down my cheeks in a torrent. I try to keep my breathing steady, my vision blurring as I make my way back to my room.

Kaius is waiting there, his face a mix of concern and worry. When he sees the blood on my dress, his expression shifts to one of horror. "Charlotte!" he exclaims, rushing to my side. "What happened?"

"I—I went to see Father," I manage to say between sobs. "He was angry... I tried to show him the list, and he—"

"Shh," Kaius interrupts gently, taking my arm and guiding me to the bed. "Let me see."

I sit down, feeling the exhaustion weigh heavily on me. Kaius quickly grabs the medical kit from the dresser, his hands steady despite the worry in his eyes. "I'm going to fix this," he says softly, his voice filled with determination. "Just stay still."

He carefully begins to clean the wound, his touch both gentle and practised. The antiseptic stings, but it's a welcome distraction from the pain of the cut. I wince but try to stay as still as possible, knowing that he's doing this for me.

"Why did he have to—" I start, but my voice cracks and I can't finish. The emotional pain is almost as overwhelming as the physical.

"Don't," Kaius says firmly, but his voice is tender. "You did what you had to do. You stood your ground."

I nod, tears continuing to fall. "I couldn't let him... let him decide. Not after everything."

Kaius is focused on stitching the wound now, his hands steady as he works. The stitches feel tight and uncomfortable, but they're necessary. "I know," he says, his voice low. "And I'm proud of you for standing up to him. It's not easy."

I can't help but let out a shaky laugh. "Proud? I'm just a mess."

"Everyone makes mistakes," he says, his voice soothing. "But you're strong, Charlotte. Stronger than you think."

As he finishes the last stitch, he sits back, looking at me with a mixture of relief and sadness. "All done," he says softly. "You should get some rest."

I look at him, my brother, who's always been there for me despite everything. "Thank you, Kaius," I say, my voice filled with gratitude.

He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here for you."

He helps me clean up, making sure I'm comfortable before he heads out. As he leaves, I sit on the edge of my bed, the weight of the day's events pressing down on me. The tears have stopped, but the ache remains, both in my neck and in my heart.

I look at the list of names again, feeling a mixture of hope and dread. Atlas. Jameson. Sebastian. Oliver. Nate. Jasper. The names are a reminder of the choices I've made, the alliances I've forged, and the battles I'm still fighting.

I lie back on my bed, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up with me. Sleep doesn't come easily, but I close my eyes, trying to push away the images of my father's fury and the pain of the blade. Instead, I focus on the future, on the hope that somehow, things will get better.

Tomorrow is another day. Another chance to fight for what I believe in, despite the obstacles in my path.