Chapter 220: The Cruelty of Family

All her laughs had been dark and nasty, but this particular one came from somewhere deeper, something dark and twisted that had been waiting patiently for the right moment to come out.

“What?” Beatrice stared at her.

Della laughed harder.

“What the fuck is so funny?!” Beatrice demanded.

“Oh, Beatrice.” Della wiped the corner of her eye, as though she had laughed hard enough to produce a tear. “You really did it.”

“Of course I did! Now fulfil your end of the pact!”

“Fulfil my end?”

“Yes!” Beatrice screamed. “You promised to let me go! We made a blood pact! You said if you didn’t keep your promise, your blood would kill you!”

Della looked down at the blood still dripping from her palm, then she looked back at Beatrice. “You’re right.”

Beatrice’s expression brightened with desperate hope, “So let me go!”

“No.” The word was so simple, so casually delivered, that it took Beatrice a moment to understand it.

“What?”

“I said no.”

“You can’t!” Beatrice’s voice rose. “You can’t do that! The pact—”

“Oh, the pact?” Della interrupted, raising her injured hand between them. “You mean this one?”

Beatrice nodded furiously.

Della turned her arm over, watching the blood slide along her fingers. The cut was already beginning to close, the edges of the wound drawing together as though her body had grown bored of being injured.

Then Della looked up and asked a question that had everyone going still, “Did you forget what I am?”

The words hung in the room.

“I’m a Rotblood.”

Jaime’s eyes widened. Evangeline stared at Della’s hand, watching the wound close completely before her eyes. Even Augustus seemed to have found enough strength to lift his head, his remaining eye fixed on her.

Everyone knew that rotbloods can absorb harmful substances and render them harmless. Moonfire, poison, corruption — all things that could destroy ordinary wolves could be taken into a Rotblood’s body without destroying them.

But none of them had considered what that meant for a blood pact.

Della watched the realisation slowly settle over their faces, and then she spoke, “Blood pacts are binding,” Almost patiently. “They punish you when you fail to fulfil your end of the agreement. They can turn your own blood against you, just like they did to Leopold.”

Beatrice’s mouth fell open, and she started to shake her head aggressively again, “No…”

“Oh, yes.”

“No! You can’t just—”

“I can.” Della’s smile widened. “And I will.”

She continued to shake her head, refusing to understand, “But we mixed our blood! I cut you myself, and we made the pact! Everyone saw!!”

“Yes, Beatrice. We made a perfectly valid blood pact. You made sure of that yourself, didn’t you? You chose where to cut me. You watched our blood mix. You were very careful, and you were so confident that the same thing that happened to Leopold would happen to me the moment I refused to keep my own end of the agreement,”

Beatrice’s breathing quickened, and she staggered back one step, “But your blood…” she whispered.

“My blood is mine to command, sweetheart. And my body doesn’t react to harmful substances the way yours does. It absorbs them, changes them, and leaves them harmless to me.” Della held out her hand again, showing Beatrice the place where she had been cut, “That includes the punishment from a blood pact.”

Beatrice began to tremble. She was now understanding that every desperate decision she had made to escape had only brought her deeper into a trap.

She had killed Leopold for nothing.

No. Worse than nothing.

She had killed the only person in that room who might have helped her, the man who had loved her even when she had given him every reason not to. She had driven the dagger into his body because Della had promised her freedom, and now she was still trapped in Blackwater Keep, surrounded by Moonfire, a monster, with no way out.

And Della had known.

She had known from the beginning.

“You…” Beatrice’s voice came out as a broken whisper. “You fucking bitch. You tricked me!”

“Did I?” Della smirked once again.

“YOU FUCKING TRICKED ME!” Beatrice screamed, pulling against her restraints so violently that the metal bands cut into her skin. “You made me kill him! You made me kill Leopold!”

Della’s smile disappeared, “No, Beatrice. You killed Leopold because you wanted to live. I simply gave you the opportunity to remind everyone what kind of person you are. Also, don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy stabbing him. I’m sure you’ve been dying to do that to him since the night of the wedding,”

Beatrice’s face twisted with hatred, “I’ll kill you!”

“Really?” Della stepped closer, obviously taunting the maniac, “How?”

Beatrice lunged as far as her restraints allowed, her claws scraping uselessly against the metal. She was still trying to fight, still trying to convince herself that there was something she could do to change the situation.

When she couldn’t reach Della, she spat on her instead.

The salive fell right on Della’s cheeks, and the woman’s eyes darkened further, “Well,” she murmured, “That was stupid,”

In the blink of an eye, a terrible sound had cracked throughout the chambers. Beatrice’s head snapped sideways, and a startled cry escaped her. Before she could recover, Della grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please—”

Della struck her again, this time across the mouth. Beatrice’s head jerked back, and blood appeared at the corner of her lips.

“Tell me, sister. How does it feel?”

Beatrice couldn’t answer. Her breathing had become uneven, and tears were streaming down her face. She tried to pull away, but Della caught her by the throat and shoved her back against the chair.

“Does it hurt?” Della asked.

Beatrice whimpered.

“Does it hurt to know that there’s nothing you can do? That nobody is coming to save you? That you can scream until your throat tears apart, and the only person who will hear you is the woman you tried so hard to kill?” Della’s fingers tightened around her throat just enough to make Beatrice gasp, “Because I remember what that felt like. I remember being helpless while you all took turns making my life a living hell. I remember being alone, and I remember wishing someone would come and save me.”

After a few more slaps — wicked, nasty ones that left Beatrice’s face red, bruised, and swollen to the point where she was almost unrecognisable…Della finally let go of her.

Beatrice coughed violently as she stumbled away from the ghost behind her, dragging her weak, torn body across the floor.

Then, Della reached down and picked up the bloody dagger still lying on the floor beside Leopold’s body.

Beatrice saw the movement, and horror crypt up her bleeding eyes again, “No,” she whispered.

Della examined the blade, turning it slightly in the blue light, “This is a nice dagger.”

“Please…”

“It’s the same one you used on me, isn’t it?”

Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you with it.”

Beatrice opened her eyes again, and whatever little hope she had left disappeared when she saw Della smiling, “That would be too easy.”

Della crouched in front of her once more and placed the dagger against the armrest of the chair, just beyond Beatrice’s reach.

“Besides, we have so much time together. You, me, Evangeline, Jaime, and Augustus. A lovely little family reunion.” She then looked around the room, taking in the blood, the broken bodies, and the terrified faces staring back at her, “And I have so many things planned.”

Jaime tried to speak, but the ruined side of his face made the words come out as a painful, broken sound. Evangeline was crying silently, while Augustus stared at Della with an expression that had finally lost every trace of authority.

They were all looking at her differently now.

Not as the weak daughter who had been an embarrassment to IronRidge. Not as the unwanted sister who had deserved every beating and every insult. Not even as the Rotblood they had all despised and ruined.

They were looking at her as something they could no longer understand.

Something they could not control.

Something they had created and could no longer destroy.

“There’s something else I want you to understand before we continue.” Della started.

Beatrice stared at her, trembling.

“Lian’s death. I heard everything you said the night you all confessed everything. I was standing right outside the door,”

Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut. Just when she thought this couldn’t get any worse…!

“You knew exactly what you were doing when you found the room where he was being treated. You tricked the maids into changing his medicine by telling them it came from Annelise. You knew he was sick. You knew how much I loved him.” Della’s expression remained unchanged. “And you did it anyway.”

Beatrice’s lips parted, but no words came out, “You weren’t responsible for his care, so don’t pretend you made a mistake while trying to help him. You went looking for him because you knew what he meant to me. Even after you stabbed me in the heart many times, even after you believed I was dead, hurting me wasn’t enough for you.” Della sucked in a deep, harsh breath and continued calmly, “You wanted to make sure there was nothing left for me to return to. You wanted me to lose the one person who had never betrayed me.”

Her gaze dropped briefly to Beatrice’s trembling hands. “You succeeded, Beatrice. Lian is dead. I buried him myself, and I will never get him back. So when you tell me you’re sorry, understand something. Your apology means nothing to the dead. And it means even less to me.”

Beatrice began crying harder. “I didn’t know you’d survive. I thought you were dead!”

“I know.” Della tilted her head. “That’s what makes it so interesting. You did all those terrible things when you thought there would never be any consequences, but I’m alive, and you’re going to have to live with everything you’ve done.”

Then, Della straightened and smiled again , “Now, who’s ready for the next round?”

Nobody answered, and she laughed.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be shy. We’re family, after all.”