Chapter 3 - Sharks(ii)

𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞

I clutched the urn to my chest, still kneeling on the floor where I'd caught it, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might crack my ribs.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ryder's voice cut through the room, sharp and commanding.

I looked up at him slowly, taking in the cigarette dangling from his fingers, the burn holes he'd punched into my couch, the casual cruelty in his posture as he sprawled across my furniture like he owned it.

"Practice," I said flatly, rising to my feet. "Where I always am."

"Practice," he repeated, his lip curling. "Right. While we've been trying to reach you for weeks."

"I blocked you." I turned away from him, carefully placing my mother's urn back on the shelf where it belonged, away from their destructive hands. "For a reason."

"Ungrateful little—" Aunt Agatha started, but I cut her off.

"I already sent the upkeep for this month. Two thousand dollars. Same as always." I faced them again, spine straight despite the exhaustion pulling at my bones. "You'll get it by Friday."

"Two thousand," Ryder scoffed, pushing himself off the couch. The cigarette tumbled to the floor, still lit. He ground it out with his heel, leaving another burn mark on my cheap carpet. "You think that's enough?"

"It's what we agreed on when you kicked me out," I said, keeping my voice level. "The terms haven't changed."

"Listen to your brother," Aunt Agatha said, her voice taking on that sickeningly sweet tone she used when she wanted something. "Family needs to stick together, especially now. Especially with all this good fortune you've had."

There it was. The real reason they were here.

"The money from the game is mine," I said, crossing my arms. "I earned it. You have no claim to it."

Ryder took a step toward me, and I instinctively shifted my weight, readying myself. "No claim?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "After everything we did for you? After we took you in when your mother—"

"Don't." The word cracked like a whip. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"You need to learn some respect," Aunt Agatha interjected, moving to stand beside Ryder. The united front was deliberate, calculated. "Your brother is the head of this family now. What he says goes."

I almost laughed. "Head of the family? He still lives in your basement."

Ryder's face flushed red, his hands clenching into fists.

"I think it's time you all left," I said, moving toward the door. "I need my space and you've overstayed your—"

The bedroom door creaked open.

I froze.

Footsteps padded softly across the floor, and then Ivy appeared in the doorway, a bundle of blankets cradled in her arms.

My stomach dropped.

She smiled at me, that same cruel, triumphant smile I'd seen a thousand times before. "Hey, sis. Long time no see."

The bundle shifted. A tiny fist emerged from the blankets, followed by a soft cooing sound.

A baby.

My eyes locked on the small face nestled against Ivy's chest. Pale skin. A dusting of dark hair. And when the baby's eyes opened, staring up at nothing in particular with unfocused newborn wonder, I saw them.

Jade green.

The exact shade I'd stared into for two years. The eyes that had looked at me with what I thought was love. The eyes that had promised me forever while their owner was busy making a child with my sister.

Atlas's eyes.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Ivy cooed, adjusting the blanket. "Three weeks old today. Born healthy, thank God. No complications."

The room tilted. I gripped the edge of my desk to steady myself.

"You look pale, Selene," Ivy said, her voice dripping with false concern. "Are you alright? I know it must be a shock, seeing your nephew for the first time."

"Nephew," I repeated, the word feeling like gravel in my mouth.

"Well, yes." Ivy shifted the baby higher on her shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of tiny fingers curling and uncurling. "This is Atlas's son. Your ex-boyfriend's child. The man you introduced me to."

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"You vouched for him, remember?" Ivy continued, her voice taking on a wounded quality that made my skin crawl. "You said he was trustworthy. A good guy. Someone I could rely on."

"Don't—"

"And then he left." Her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. "The moment I told him I was pregnant, he disappeared. Changed his number. Blocked me on everything. Left me to raise his child alone."

Aunt Agatha made a sympathetic noise. "Poor dear. She's been through so much."

"It's your fault," Ivy said, her tears flowing freely now. "You brought him into our lives. You made me trust him. And now I'm a single mother because of you."

The scar on my abdomen pulsed.

It was sudden and violent, like someone had pressed a hot iron against the surgical site. I gasped, my hand flying to my stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt.

The scar where they'd cut me open. Where they'd taken a piece of my liver and transplanted it into Atlas's failing body. Where I'd bled and suffered through recovery because I loved him and would have given him anything.

The scar that proved I'd literally given him a part of myself.

And he'd thanked me by fucking my sister and abandoning their child.

"You need to take responsibility," Aunt Agatha said firmly. "This baby is family. Your nephew. And since Atlas isn't here to provide, you need to step up."

"Step up?" I repeated, the pain in my scar making it hard to breathe.

"The million dollars you won," Ryder said, his voice hard. "It should go to the child. To help Ivy raise him properly."

"You can't be serious."

"Dead serious," Aunt Agatha said. "You introduced them. You vouched for him. This baby exists because of you. The least you can do is—"

Laughter bubbled up from my throat.

It started as a choked sound, almost like a sob, but quickly morphed into something darker, more unhinged. I pressed my hand harder against my scar as the laughter poured out of me.

Everyone stared.

"What's so funny?" Ivy demanded, her tears stopping as quickly as they'd started.

"You," I managed between gasps of laughter. "You're what's funny."

Her face flushed red. "How dare you—"

"You fucked your sister's boyfriend," I said, straightening up and meeting her eyes. "You spread your legs for a man who was in a relationship with me. You played the victim while actively destroying what I had. And now you want to blame ME because he abandoned you?"

"He wouldn't have left if you hadn't—"

"Hadn't what?" I stepped toward her. "Hadn't introduced you? Newsflash, Ivy—he would've found someone else to cheat with. That's what cheaters do."

"You don't understand—"

"No, I understand perfectly," I cut her off. "You're a whore who got exactly what she deserved. You fucked your sister's boyfriend, got knocked up, and got abandoned. And now you want me to pay for your mistakes?"

Ivy's mouth fell open in shock.

"That's what you are," I continued, my voice cold and even. "A bloody whore who destroyed her own sister's relationship and expected a fairytale ending. How's that working out for you?"

"How dare you speak to her like that!" Aunt Agatha shrieked.

"I'll speak to her however I want," I shot back. "She came into MY apartment, with HER mistakes, trying to make them MY responsibility. No. I'm not paying for that baby. I'm not paying for her choices. And I'm sure as hell not paying for Atlas's cowardice."

Ivy's hands trembled as she clutched the baby tighter. "You're a monster."

"I'm honest," I corrected. "There's a difference."

"You need to help your family," Ryder said, his voice dropping dangerously low.

"No," I said simply. "I don't."

Ivy's smile returned, sharper this time. She shifted the baby to one arm and reached into her pocket with her free hand, pulling out something that made my blood run cold.

Photographs.

She tossed them onto my desk, and they scattered across the surface. Dozens of them. Printed surveillance photos, screenshots, maps marked with red circles and arrows.

And at the center of it all, one face repeated over and over again.

Golden eyes beneath thick brows. Dark hair framing a tan face. The man from my nightmares.

My biological father.

"What is this?" I whispered, staring at the evidence of my obsession laid bare.

"Your dirty little secret," Ivy said cheerfully. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? All those late nights 'studying.' All those 'tutoring sessions' that took you to the other side of town. All those maps and files hidden in your closet.

She'd been in my room. Going through my things. Finding the one thing I'd kept hidden from everyone.

"You've been stalking him," Aunt Agatha said, her voice filled with disgust. "The man who— the monster who—"

"Why?" Ryder demanded. "So you can have some tearful reunion?"

The room went silent.

"You're not my family," I said quietly.

"We're the only family you have!" Aunt Agatha shrieked.

"Then I have no family."

Ryder's hand shot out and cracked across my face.

The slap echoed in the small apartment, sharp and vicious. My head snapped to the side, my cheek exploding with heat. For a moment, I just stood there, tasting blood where my teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.

"You will show respect," Ryder growled, grabbing me by the collar. "You will listen when we talk to you. And you will—"

He slammed me backward onto the desk.

The photographs scattered, fluttering to the floor. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, and for a second I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the pressure of his hands pinning me down.

And then something inside me snapped.

My hand shot up, grabbing his wrist. He tried to pull away, but my grip was iron, unyielding.

"Let go," he snarled, trying to wrench free.

I twisted.

The pop was loud and wet, echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Ryder's scream followed immediately after, high and agonized as his shoulder dislocated.

I shoved him away and he stumbled backward, clutching his useless arm, his face white with shock and pain.

"What the—how did you—" He stared at me, eyes wide with something that looked almost like fear.

My wrist burned. The crescent moon tattoo pulsed with heat, glowing silver beneath my skin.

And then I felt it—the change in my vision. The world sharpening, colors becoming more vivid, sounds amplifying until I could hear everyone's heartbeat thundering in the silence.

"Your eyes," Aunt Agatha whispered, backing away. "Your eyes are—"

"Red," Ivy finished, her voice strangled. "They're glowing red."

I blinked, but the glow didn't fade. I could feel it, the heat behind my eyes, the power thrumming through my veins like electricity.

"What are you?" Ryder gasped, cradling his dislocated arm.

I didn't have an answer.

The twins started crying. Aunt Agatha grabbed them, pulling them toward the door. "We're leaving. Now."

"Good idea," I said breathlessly.

Ryder scrambled toward the exit, still clutching his arm. Aunt Agatha and her husband were already pushing through the doorway, the twins wailing in their arms.

Ivy stood frozen, staring at me with the baby in her arms.

"You too," I said. "Get out."

She took a step backward, then another, unable to look away from my eyes.

And then the door burst open.

Five men filed in, moving with military precision. All dressed in black, tactical gear, faces hard and expressionless. The one in front had a scar running from his left eyebrow down across his eye to his jaw.

He looked at my family, then at me, then back to my family.

"Well," he said, his voice like gravel. "Isn't this cozy."

Aunt Agatha made a small, frightened sound.

The scarred man smiled, and it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been avoiding our calls, Jamesons. That's very rude."

"I—we were going to pay—" Ryder stammered.

"Save it." He waved a hand dismissively. He moved faster than Ivy could process, plucking the baby from her arms before she could tighten her grip. The infant barely stirred, still wrapped in his blankets, oblivious to the danger. "You can pay with the baby. The black market loves newborns."