Chapter 8 Shots Fired, Shadows Loom

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Lucifer Argent P.O.V.

"There you are. She's useless; she has to go." my father declared with a chilling detachment that sent a shiver down my spine.

A flicker of something unfamiliar—hope, perhaps—stirred within me. "You're releasing her?" I asked, the words surprising even me as they left my lips.

"Of course not. I'm going to kill her. What happened to you?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, scrutinizing me for any sign of weakness.

"Nothing happened to me. I still hate them," I insisted, forcing the words through gritted teeth. But deep down, I knew it wasn't entirely true.

My gaze fell upon Valentine, crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from fresh slashes on her skin. The sight of her battered form ignited something primal within me—a fierce, protective instinct that I couldn't explain. I wanted to rush to her side, to shield her from any further harm, but I stayed rooted in place, battling the tumultuous emotions within.

"Oh really? Ready to do a task I'm about to ask you now?" he challenged; his tone laced with a sinister edge that made my blood run cold.

Valentine stirred, her body trembling as she regained consciousness. Relief washed over me, a strange and unwelcome sensation that I quickly tried to suppress.

For the first time in my life, I felt unprepared for the task my father had in mind. It wasn't about my ability to carry it out—it was about the choice I was about to make. The lines between loyalty and morality blurred, leaving me standing at a precipice that threatened to change everything.

"Kill her." he ordered, tossing a gun in my direction.

I caught the weapon, the cold metal heavy in my hands. The weight wasn't just physical—it bore down on my soul, threatening to crush me under its burden. I turned to look at Valentine, her tear-filled eyes locking onto mine, pleading for something, anything, but expecting nothing.

Aiming the gun at her was like aiming at the last shred of humanity within myself. Her broken state, the resignation in her gaze, tore at something deep inside me. The hope that had once glimmered in her eyes was gone, replaced by the bleak acceptance of what she believed was inevitable.

Did she really think I could do this? That I would pull the trigger and end her life as if she meant nothing to me? I had convinced myself I could, that I had to, but now, standing there with the gun in my hand, the truth hit me like a tidal wave—I couldn't do it.

One of the guards grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to give me a clearer shot. My father's voice boomed in the background, demanding I prove my loyalty, but his words barely registered. The room around me blurred as I focused on Valentine, the tears that streamed down her cheeks, each one a tiny dagger to my heart.

"I can't," I finally whispered, my voice trembling, betraying the storm inside me.

"Why can't you? You're disgracing me!" my father roared, his face contorting in rage as he stormed toward me.

His hand cracked across my face, the force of the blow sending me reeling. But the pain didn't matter—it was nothing compared to the turmoil in my chest.

"No!" Valentine tried; her voice raw with desperation. "Kill me, but don't hurt him."

"Got your wish, child." my father sneered, snatching the gun from my hands. Before I could react, he pulled the trigger, and the deafening crack of the shot echoed through the room, shattering the world I thought I knew.

As Valentine crumpled to the floor, the life draining from her eyes, I felt something inside me break. The reality of what had just happened hit me with the force of a thousand storms.

I fell to my knees beside her, the weight of the gun still lingering in my hands like a curse. All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking.

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