Narin could see it—Ling was slipping away. She was no longer blindly following his words, no longer fueled by the same hatred for Orm. Something had shifted, something dangerous. He refused to let it continue.
Tanthira had noticed the change in Narin, too. His arrogance now carried an edge of desperation, his once carefully laid plans turning reckless. She could feel the storm brewing beneath his calm façade, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he did something irreversible.
That night, she confronted him.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway of the mansion, she blocked his path, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"What are you planning, Narin?"
He smirked, tilting his head in amusement. "Why do you care, Tan? Since when do you question me?"
She took a step closer, her voice low and firm. "Since I realized you're losing control. You're planning something against Ling, aren't you?"
Narin's smirk faded for a fraction of a second before he scoffed. "She's forgetting her place. I'm simply reminding her."
Tanthira's stomach churned. "You don't own her. She's not your pawn, Narin!"
His gaze darkened, the smirk returning, this time colder. "Neither were you, yet here you are. Still standing by my side."
Tanthira clenched her fists. "That's different."
"Is it?" Narin leaned in slightly, voice laced with mockery. "You think you're so different from Ling? That you're not just as controlled? You talk big, Tanthira, but in the end, you always follow orders. First your father's. Now mine."
Tanthira's breath hitched, something inside her snapping. "Don't bring my father into this."
Narin let out a quiet chuckle. "Why not? He made you who you are. Taught you to be obedient, to sacrifice everything for his approval. And what did it get you? Nothing. He still threw you away like you were worthless."
The words hit her like a dagger to the chest.
Her father's voice, cold and absolute, rang in her ears. "You will do as I say, or you are no daughter of mine."
The suffocating memories crashed over her—the betrayal, the pain, the way he had forced her to abandon the only person she had ever truly loved.
Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. "Shut up."
Narin took a step forward, his voice a cruel whisper. "He's dead now, Tanthira. But his hold on you? Still alive. You're pathetic."
Tanthira's entire body trembled. "I said shut up!" she screamed, her voice breaking as the first tear slid down her cheek.
She couldn't hold it back anymore.
"You don't get to talk about him! You don't get to talk about what he did to me!"
Narin simply watched, unfazed, as the anger dissolved into grief.
Tanthira took a shaky breath, her vision swimming. She wiped her tears harshly, but they wouldn't stop. She hated this. Hated that Narin had the power to hurt her like this.
With a broken sob, she turned and walked away, her steps unsteady, her heart in pieces.
She didn't stop. Didn't look back.
As she disappeared into the shadows, Narin smirked.
He was satisfied.
She was still under his control.
And that meant he could still use her.
Ling's Conflict
Ling sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, a glass of whiskey in hand. The room was silent, but her mind was loud—too loud.
She had spent years convincing herself that Orm meant nothing. But if that were true, why did it hurt every time she saw her? Why did her gaze, full of quiet pain, haunt her even now?
And then there was Sam.
Sam, who was relentless, who never hesitated to challenge her. Who made her question things she didn't want to question.
"I don't get you, Ling. If you hate Orm so much, why do you care when she's around me?"
Sam's voice echoed in her mind, and Ling scowled, gripping her glass tighter.
What was she supposed to do? Narin had always been her anchor, the one who gave her direction, even when that direction led to destruction. But now, for the first time, she felt something close to doubt.
His obsession with control. His manipulation. His way of twisting words until they became a cage around her.
She was tired.
Tired of the war inside her.
Tired of pretending she didn't feel anything.