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The voice continues, unrelenting. “Mal will have to choose between savingyou, Freya, or Hana.”
Hana grabs my arm, her face pale.
“You’re fuckingsick,” I hiss into the darkness. “You think the people who care about us are going to let you do this? You thinkIam?”
The voice shifts tone, growing darker. “As I said, you can help him, Freya. There is a way by which both youandHana can be freed.”
I glare into the shadows of the room, my chest heaving. “How?” I snap.
The voice’s next words drop like boulders, heavy and crushing. “By killing your father.”
The room falls silent.
I freeze, my mind going blank.
“Kill your father,” the voice repeats, “and you and Hana both go free.”
The air feels thick, suffocating. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears that it drowns out everything else.
“My father is dead, you fucking idiot,” I snarl. “He died years ago.”
The voice laughs, cruel and mocking. “Oh, I’m afraid not, Freya. He is very much alive.”
“Freya…”
I turn to Kir when I hear his voice. His tone is still faint and fragile sounding, but he’s no longer looking at me in pain.
He’s looking at me with a look of…disbeliefon his face.
Confusion.
Guilt.
“That surname,” he says quietly. “What… What did he just call you?”
I shake my head. “Kir, you need to rest?—”
“Well?” The voice mocks.
I grit my teeth as I turn away from Kir again. “I just fucking told you!” I roar. “My father is fuckingdead!”
“That’s simply not true, Freya—not yet, anyway.”
“I’m not playing your fucking games, you stupid?—”
“In fact, he’s sitting right next to you.”
A hundred different emotions roar though my head. Anger at the situation and the lies. Humor at the absurdity of it.
Sadness that it’s not true.
But as the storm of emotions whips through me, there’s a certain numbness that sticks.
A clawed little something, hanging on until the storm passes.
The silence in the room isdeafening.
I turn quickly to look at Kir.
