Page 2 of A Touch of Madness

The two stand, mere inches apart, Sylvie looking as if she’s lost everything and everyone she has ever loved, and Lara radiating nothing but disdain and contempt. The way she glares at Sylvie makes even my blood boil, causes a shift in my demeanor to the point that I’m nearly about to lose my carefully constructed poise. I move to stand directly next to Sylvie, placing an arm tightly around her waist to show her I am here, and I am not going anywhere. Lara scoffs as her eyes travel from where my hand rests against Sylvie’s hip back to my own gaze.

Lara’s voice hardens, taking on an edge of unshakable conviction. “I am their weapon now. And I will rid this world of the plague that took everything from us. That you seem to have been able to look past because a monster is the only godforsaken fuck who will ever even glance your way. I will make every single one of them pay for ruining us.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, her expression twisting into something cruel and vengeful, those blackened eyes striking something deep within me. “Starting with you.”

I step forward now, firmly placing myself between her and Sylvie. My movements are calm, unhurried—a stark contrast to the storm violently brewing around us.

“This is not your sister,” I say.

“She is,” Sylvie insists, her voice trembling with desperation.

“No,” I reply, my gaze never leaving Lara. “Not anymore.”

Sylvie’s hand clutches at my sleeve, her grip tight with desperation. “She’s my sister, Lucian. I can save her. I have to?—”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” I say, my tone firm but not unkind.

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”Lara twists her face and mocks me, tilting her head from side to side as she speaks, like she’s putting on a performance. She laughs again, the sound sharp and grating. “How noble. Protecting her, even now. But it won’t matter. You can’t stop what’s coming.” She pauses as if to think, but quickly adds, “None of you can.”

Her words are a distinct promise of violence, and the air around her seems to hum with restrained power.

Sylvie makes a move to come around me, to face Lara again, but I stop her in her tracks, unwilling to allow it.

“Sylvie,” I say, turning to her. “Stay behind me.”

But she doesn’t listen. She steps forward again, her hand outstretched, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Lara, please,” she begs. “This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are.”

“Who Iwas,” Lara corrects, her voice cold. “I’ve changed, Sylvie. And so have you. Only one of us for the better.”

Her gaze flicks to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “I see it now. You really are weak. And he’s made you weaker.”

Before Sylvie can respond, a voice I’d hoped to never hear again cuts through the air, dripping with command.

“Lara!”

Amara.

Her shrill voice is a sharpening blade in the moment. The sound sends a chill down my spine. I glance toward the edge of the property, and there she stands, just beyond the barrier of the warding spell—a dark, imposing figure shrouded in shadow.

She wasn’t supposed to return.

Amara’s presence is a shock to us all, her sudden reappearance a reminder of the power she wields. She stands just outside the invisible boundary, her posture regal and unyielding. Her voice, when she speaks again, is laced with authority.

“Lara. Come!”

Just like one would beckon a hound.

Lara hesitates for a moment, her expression flickering with something unrecognizable—perhaps doubt, or perhaps something deeper.

“Lara,” Sylvie whispers, her voice trembling with hope. “You don’t have to go with her. You can stay. We can figure this out. I will do anything to help you, to make you see…”

But Lara doesn’t respond. Her expression hardens, and she steps away.

Amara’s lips curl into a faint, triumphant smile as Lara crosses the boundary, leaving us behind.

“You made the wrong choice, Sylvie. I will always be one step ahead of you,” Amara says as they walk away, their backs to us. “This is only the beginning,” she sing-songs on the wind, flicking one hand in the air, her voice carrying the weight of a promise. “You’ll see soon enough.”

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