The Harding servants and bodyguards scattered like rats, arms over their heads.
I followed the pull of my divine soul and strode toward the basement level of the Harding estate.
The iron door to the underground was sealed with a coded lock.
I stepped back.
Brick pulled out the hydraulic cutter he always carried. One clean snap, and the lock sheared apart.
I kicked the door open.
The smell hit me first. Blood, thick and metallic, layered over the sharp sting of disinfectant.
The moment I saw what was inside, my vision went red.
This wasn't a storage room. It was a fully equipped sterile operating theater.
Amy Harding. My best friend. The goddess who had once stood serene and untouchable in the Moonlit Palace.
She was strapped to a freezing surgical table.
Her face was the color of ash. Her eyes were shut, and her breathing was so faint it barely registered.
Her back had been cut open. A tube as thick as a grown man's forearm was jammed into her spine.
Dark red bone marrow was being siphoned out of her body, inch by inch, through that tube.
On a second bed beside her, plush and pristine like something out of a luxury recovery suite, lay the Harding family's fake heiress.
Lena Harding.
Lena's cheeks were rosy. She was propped against her pillows, watching a variety show on a tablet, giggling every few seconds.
Georgia Harding sat at the edge of Lena's bed, spooning bird's nest soup into her mouth one careful bite at a time.
"There's a good girl, eat up. Once they finish extracting your sister's marrow, you'll be completely cured."
The private doctor in a white coat frowned and spoke up. "Mrs. Harding, Miss Amy's vitals are dropping. The volume of marrow extracted has already far exceeded the safe limit. If you continue, she will die."
Georgia didn't even look up. Her voice dripped with impatience.
"Her worthless life, traded for my Lena's health? She should count herself lucky."
"Increase the dosage. As long as it cures Lena, even if she dies on that table, consider it her filial duty to the Harding family."
Filial duty?!
Something inside my skull snapped clean in two.
"Filial duty my ass!"
CRACK.
I brought the rod down on the extraction machine with everything I had.
Sparks exploded outward. The machine shrieked, shorted, and went dead.
The crash sent the bowl of soup flying from Georgia's hands. It shattered on the floor.
"Who are you?!" Georgia shrieked, scrambling to her feet, staring at me in terror.
Lena burrowed under her blankets like a frightened animal.
I didn't spare either of them a glance. I grabbed the doctor by the collar with one hand, lifted him clean off his feet, and slammed him into the wall.
"Who gave you the guts to extract her marrow?!"
He was shaking so hard his teeth chattered. He pointed a trembling finger at Georgia. "It was... it was Mrs. Harding's orders! I was just doing what I was paid to do!"
I drove my knee into his stomach.
He screamed, crumpled to the floor clutching his gut, and retched up bile.
Brick and Nat stormed in with the rest of the crew and locked down the operating room in seconds.
I rushed to the surgical table and fumbled with the restraints buckled around Amy's wrists.
Deep purple welts had been gouged into her skin where the straps had bitten in.
When my fingers touched her, she was cold. Not cool. Cold. The kind of cold that doesn't belong to the living.
"Amy! Amy, wake up!" I patted her cheek. My voice was shaking and I couldn't stop it.
Her eyelids fluttered open, barely. Her pupils were unfocused, drifting.
When she recognized me, her cracked lips pulled into the ghost of a bitter smile.
"Pansy... you came..."
"Mortals... are truly terrifying..."
My tears fell before I could hold them back.
