Page 104 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

Then, out of nowhere, her mother moves—inhumanly fast—and drives her handthroughthe enforcer who struck her daughter.Through his ribcage. It’s an inhuman gesture. Bones crack. Blood sprays. He drops like a rag doll, lifeless. Just like that.

She yanks her hand free, slick and dripping, and the room goes still.

Aria sags in my arms, her breath rattling against my throat. I drop with her, cradling her against my chest as we crumple to the floor, together. One hand presses to the wound—hot, wet, endless blood spills over my fingers. My hands won’t stop shaking.

“Aria?” I choke. “Aria, stay with me.”

She doesn’t answer, just whimpers between gasps.

Her mother stares at us, a pale statue, black eyes flicking between Aria’s pale face and my frantic hold. She’s not triumphant. Not furious. Just… still. Her black eyes track every movement, but she doesn’t speak.

Her silence is worse than her cruelty.

“Fool,” she murmurs, voice low. “You’d die for this mortal?”

Aria shifts, barely, her lips parting. But there’s no voice behind the breath she exhales. I feel her slipping—slipping right out of my grasp.

And Ibreak.

I pull her tighter to me, jaw clenched so hard it aches. “You don’t get to speak like she’s nothing,” I snap, rage cutting through the terror. “You don’t get to watch her die!”

The mother blinks. Something flickers behind her gaze—not pity. Not yet. Maybe… curiosity. Then, to my shock, she turns away from us both. She doesn’t strike; she doesn’t finish me off. Instead, she gestures to the few remaining enforcers, an order of retreat. Most leave, one lingers.

When she turns back to us, her steps slow, calculated. She tilts her head like she’s studying something foreign behind glass. “Intriguing,” she murmurs. “You love her as well.” A pause. A faint narrowing of her eyes. “I wonder… why?”

The words strike something raw inside me.

My jaw clenches, rage rising so fast it nearly chokes me. I can’t believe I’m still kneeling here, bloodied and gasping, while this woman dares to askwhy. While Aria—my Aria—lies barely breathing in my arms.

I hold her tighter, her weight pressing against my chest like the world is trying to crush me. Her blood is warm and slick beneath my hands, and I’m doing everything I can not to fall apart.

“Because she’s good,” I rasp, my voice shaking with fury. “Because she’sbrave.Because she left everything behind to be better than what you made her into. That’s why.”

I look up, eyes burning. “And because I’d rather die here with her than live in a world where she doesn’t.”

Her mother says nothing.

The foyer is too quiet. The kind of quiet that rings in your ears and makes your heart feel like it’s the only sound left in the world. Aria’s blood keeps soaking into my clothes. I can’t stop it. Ican’t stop it.

“She’s dying,” I whisper, my voice cracking, raw. “Help her. Please.”

Her mother stares down at me with that unreadable expression, her gaze flicking from Aria’s face to mine like she’s reading a ledger—measuring loss, weighing cost. She doesn’t move. Just watches. As if she’s deciding whether Aria’s life is worth the price of mercy.

My gut twists.If she says no—

“Why?” the woman finally asks, cool and calm, as though my desperation is some academic curiosity. “What drives you to beg your enemy?”

Isnap.

A scream tears from my throat. “Because she’s everything!” I shout, voice ragged and wild. “Because I love her! Because I don’t care what happens to me—just fucking save her!”

I don’t wait for her to answer. Ican’t. I draw my dagger and slash a deep line across my wrist. The pain barely registers. Blood flows, fast and hot. I press it to Aria’s lips, my fingers trembling.

“Come on, Mouse,” I beg, my voice cracking. “Just a little. Please. You have to drink.”

She doesn’t.

Her lips stay slack. Her breathing is shallow, fading by the second.

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