Cassel — POV
I don't know what came over me.
I don't know whether I had been possessed by a demon, or whether something—anything—had taken control of me.
All I know is that I was furious.
Furious at Rosalia's behavior toward that man.
Furious at how easily she threw her life away every single time, as if life and death meant nothing to her.
Furious at how she never once considered my feelings as she kept risking herself without a second thought.
I was angry at the idea of losing her.
Angry at the thought of something happening to her.
Angry at the idea of her being hurt—or dying—for the sake of others.
If she was going to die anyway, then why not let it be by my hands?
Why shouldn't she die because of me, instead of sacrificing herself to save others?
If death was going to take her no matter what, then why shouldn't I be the one to kill her with these very hands?
If she died, then we would die together.
