Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter 61

"I'll kill General Sorrengail," I declared, the words dropping like a stone into the silence that followed. The air in the room thickened, as if the very weight of what I said was enough to make it suffocating.

"It's clear she's involved in the creation of the Vein."

Violet's face twisted into an expression of fury, her hands slamming onto the table with such force I could feel the vibrations in my bones. "My mother had nothing to do with this," she hissed.

I didn't flinch. My eyes met hers, unblinking, unwavering. The fire in her gaze was nothing compared to the coldness in mine. Slowly, my attention moved to her siblings. They sat in silence, their eyes deliberately avoiding mine. Their lack of a response spoke louder than any argument could.

I lifted an eyebrow, my voice cutting through the tension. "If you truly believed that, then why isn't anyone else speaking up?"

The silence that followed felt suffocating. The room was heavy with the unspoken truth that no one dared to address. It was a truth too hard to face, but one I knew all too well.

"That's what I thought," I said, my voice biting, before turning away. With a few swift movements, I gathered my things—parchment, ink, anything to occupy my hands, to steady myself in the face of everything that was unraveling. The rustle of papers echoed in the quiet room.

Violet's voice broke through the stillness. "Where are you going?" The disbelief was clear in her tone.

I didn't look back as I continued to pack, my movements sharp, purposeful. "To kill your mother."

Her shock was palpable, and for the briefest moment, I almost felt something stir inside me. But I pushed it away. There was no room for hesitation now. "You can't," she said, her voice shaking, pleading.

"I can," I replied, my words cold, final. I turned to face her for a moment, locking eyes with her. "And I will."

I rode alongside Garrick, the wind tearing at my face as we cut through the sky. His dragon, massive and steadfast, tore through the clouds, a powerful force in the air. The others weren't coming to Basgaith. I couldn't bear the thought of them following me, especially not Xaden. His presence was a distraction, one I didn't need. Garrick, on the other hand, was steady—unwavering. He would be useful. Silent when needed, reliable in a way I could trust.

"Once we land, everyone will be alerted," Garrick shouted over the roaring wind, his voice barely making it through.

"That's fine," I called back, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I just need to get to her office."

The war college loomed ahead, its jagged towers slicing the sky like teeth. We circled it once before descending, the world below growing larger by the second. The dragon's massive wings slowed, and as we touched down, the ground seemed to inhale and exhale beneath us. I wasted no time. There was no room for hesitation.

I moved with precision, my instincts guiding me as I made my way toward the office. Guards were stationed along the path, but I knew how to deal with them. A quick shift, a few swift movements, and I was past them. It wasn't about killing them. They weren't the target. Getting to the office was all that mattered. The rest was secondary.

Garrick followed behind me, his presence a constant reassurance, though his expression remained stoic. He wasn't here for moral support. He was here to make sure I didn't falter.

We reached the door to her office. I didn't waste time. I kicked it open with force, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. The dim light of the fire flickered, casting long, twisted shadows against the stone walls. I walked straight to her desk, kicked my feet up, and grabbed the dagger resting there. I twirled it between my fingers, the cold, sharp metal familiar in my hand.

"If they could see us now," Garrick murmured, his voice tinged with irony as he leaned against the wall. I knew who he meant. Our parents. If they knew what was happening now, they would have their heads. But I didn't care.

"If only," I muttered, my voice flat, detached. The weight of my actions, the weight of what I was about to do, pressed down on me like a thousand-pound stone. But I couldn't stop. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced at Garrick, my thoughts spiraling into something darker. "What's the one thing that scares you?" I asked, my voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

"Love," he answered without hesitation.

"Love?" I scoffed bitterly, letting out a short laugh. "Of all the things we could fear, we fear love?" The idea seemed absurd to me. Something so fragile, so fleeting. Yet so many people clung to it as though it were their lifeline.

I stared at him for a long moment before speaking again. "Humanity," I said, the words carrying a weight that made the air feel heavier. Humanity—the cruelty, the deceit, the lengths people would go to in order to survive. That was what scared me. People were unpredictable. In the end, they would always do whatever it took to protect themselves. No one was above betrayal.

Before Garrick could respond, the door creaked open. There she was.

The woman I had come for. The one who had to die.

"Come in," I said, my voice sharp and commanding as I flicked the dagger toward the door like a silent invitation.

She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with an ominous click. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of me, her lips curling into a sneer. "This is my office," she spat, her voice laced with venom.

"I know," I replied coldly, my gaze never leaving hers. "Your name's on the door. I may not be a scribe like your daughter, but I can read."

Her eyes flashed with irritation, her hands twitching at her sides. I saw the weapon at her waist, but I wasn't worried. I'd already made my move. There would be no fight.

Garrick stood behind me, his presence a silent warning. He wasn't here to talk. Neither was I.

She took a step forward, her voice low, filled with contempt. "Are you here to explain yourself? To give me some reason for why you abandoned your studies? Or are you here to tell me why you left so abruptly?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I stood, my movements smooth and deliberate. The dagger in my hand was still there, cold and ready. "No," I said quietly, my voice steady, my gaze never wavering. "I'm here to kill you."

She reached for her blade in a swift motion, but she was slow—far too slow. The dagger I'd been holding went flying, burying itself deep into the soft spot of her neck. Her breath hitched, and in an instant, she crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around her as the light faded from her eyes.

"You didn't ask her anything," Garrick said, his voice thick with frustration.

"She wouldn't have told us anything," I replied, my voice cold, my gaze fixed on her lifeless body. "And I wasn't about to give her the honor of a fight."

I glanced at the sword at her side, its gleaming hilt catching the firelight. I moved toward it, my fingers brushing against the intricate designs etched into the blade. The weight of it felt oddly familiar, but it wasn't the sword that mattered. It was what it represented. Power. Legacy. Lies.

"What are you doing?" Garrick asked, his voice low, watching me carefully.

I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I took the sword in my hand, feeling the cool metal settle into my grip. It was a symbol of everything she had built, everything she had manipulated.

"For Violet," I said quietly, my voice unwavering. "It's still her mother. She deserves something from her. Something more than the legacy of lies and betrayal. Something she can hold onto."

I could feel the power of the blade in my hand, a symbol of the life she had lived, a life that had caused so much pain, but also a life that had shaped her daughter. Violet deserved more than what had been left for her. She deserved the right to have the sword that had once belonged to her mother, a symbol of power that was now stripped of its meaning.