Serena POV:
Julian folded his arms across his chest, his posture radiating a contempt so profound it seemed to lower the temperature of the room.
"Do you have any conception of the pack resources we just squandered on your pathetic life?" he growled.
I lay there, my throat too raw and swollen to form a reply.
"You are a low-level Omega," he continued, each word a stone thrown at me. "You bring nothing but shame to this family with your histrionics."
Tears, hot and useless, welled in my eyes.
I remembered a time when I was a child, my fingers stained with paint as I tried to capture the forest and the moon. The pack had forced me to abandon my canvases for ledgers on territory management, desperate to make me useful. They had even stripped my room of its light colors to suit Tanya's gothic sensibilities.
"I have dragged you back from the brink more times than you deserve," Julian said, his voice dropping to something colder. "If your death could somehow restore what was lost, I would not lift a finger to stop it." He glanced toward the window, his jaw set in a hard line. "The rooftop is thirty stories high. If you want to make a point, at least have the decency to do it cleanly."
I stared into his eyes, searching for the boy who had held me through the agony of my first shift.
There was nothing left of him. No warmth. No love.
A cold, heavy thing settled in my chest, where a heart used to be.
My hand shot out, my fingers closing around the silver IV needle embedded in my arm.
I tore it free with a single, violent jerk.
Blood arced across the white bedsheets—a sudden slash of crimson—but I felt nothing.
I grabbed the heavy metal IV stand and, with a desperate surge of adrenaline, shoved it sideways. It crashed to the floor between us with a loud clang, a momentary obstacle. He flinched back, surprised not by my strength, but by my sudden, feral defiance.
I scrambled past Julian and ran from the room on bare, silent feet.
"Hey! What are you doing?" a young Omega nurse shouted.
She planted herself in front of Julian, blocking his path.
"How can you say such things to her?" the nurse scolded my brother. "She just survived a poisoning!"
Julian's face contorted with rage, and he shoved the nurse aside to give chase.
But I was already a fleeing shape down the sterile white corridor.
My shoulder slammed against the heavy steel door to the rooftop, forcing it open.
A blast of wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes.
I stood on the edge of the gravel-strewn roof.
I looked down at the insignificant specks of cars and people below.
I would destroy this broken body so Tanya could have it back in pieces.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the void.
The wind roared in my ears.
But gravity was not granted its swift, clean victory. My thirty-story fall was brutally cut short—a jarring screech of metal on metal as my spine slammed into the suspended platform of a window-washing crane.
A sickening crack echoed in the air as my legs and ribs shattered on impact.
I lay on the cold metal grid, coughing up blood.
An old human cleaner, who was on the platform, rushed to my side.
"Oh my god, child!" the old man cried, his hands trembling as he gently cradled my head. "Hold on, help is coming!"
He stripped off his worn, warm jacket and wrapped it around my shivering body.
His simple human kindness caused hot tears to finally spill down my cheeks. I had endured so much from my own family, only to be shown mercy by a complete stranger.
The platform was quickly winched back toward the hospital window.
Julian climbed out onto it.
He seized my arm, his grip careless of my broken bones.
He crouched down, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back, ignoring my cry of pain. Then he slapped me hard across the face.
My head snapped to the side, and blood trickled from my lip.
"Your acting improves," Julian hissed. "You even calculated the crane's position to ensure you wouldn't die."
