Page 17

17

KENDALL

I walk for hours.

Through alleys and down cracked sidewalks. Past shuttered shops and flickering streetlamps and the too-loud hum of a city that never really sleeps, just mutters to itself in low, mechanical tones. I try to feel normal, like a girl on a late-night aimless wander and not someone with blood under her nails and a war pounding inside her skull.

I told Stefan I was going to see Adora. That was the lie I left him with—because it felt easier than saying, “I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore.”

But the truth is, I didn’t want to go to that place. To see her. Until now.

Until the silence between us is louder than it’s ever been, and I can’t keep pretending we’re fine when we haven’t spoken— really spoken—since she landed in that hospital bed torn to hell.

So I go.

The hospital smells the same as always— like bleach and microwave dinners.

When I get to her room, the door’s cracked open and she’s standing by the closet, shoving clothes into a duffel with mechanical movements. She’s got a bandage still tucked behind her shoulder, and she’s muttering something under her breath I can’t make out.

“You weren’t gonna tell me you were leaving?” I ask, stepping in.

She startles, then scowls. “I told Mom.”

“Cool. So I get nothing?”

“Kendall, not now?—”

“No,” I snap, slamming the door shut behind me. “You don’t get to duck out and ignore me again. Not when you know I know.”

Her jaw tightens. “Know what ?”

I step closer. “That it happened to me. The night you were attacked—it happened to me, too.”

Her face pales.

“I need you to tell me what you saw,” I say. “What it felt like. I need to understand , and I think you do. I think you’ve known this whole time and didn’t say anything. And in my opinion, that’s fucking selfish.”

She stares at me.

Then turns away, lips pressed tight.

“Adora—”

“ You don’t get it ,” she snaps, spinning around. Her eyes flash with something between rage and heartbreak. “You think we’re the same, but we’re not.”

I blink. “I didn’t say we were. Listen, Dad’s been trying to help me, but I need you– ”

“Oh, that’s perfect. You’ve got Dad now. You’ve got someone teaching you, guiding you. He bit you. You were chosen. I obviously wasn’t.”

My mouth goes dry. “He’s the one that did this to you, didn’t he?”

She flinches. Doesn’t answer.

“He admitted it,” I say, quieter now. “Said it wasn’t supposed to go that way. That he was trying to help like what he did to me. That it… broke something in both of you.”

She laughs—sharp and humorless. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

I want to tell her the rest.

About how Dad said she wasn’t really his.

About the truth of who she is—who we are. But I can’t tell her when I don’t even know the answers for her. So I stop myself because I don’t know what she knows. And this... this isn’t the time.

“You should’ve told me,” I say instead.

Her eyes shine, but she blinks it away. “I didn’t know how .”

“Neither did I.”

“It’s not the same, Kendall!” she shouts. “You have help. You have answers. I’ve been alone in this over a week, even longer mentally—freaking out and hiding it and pretending to Mom that I was fine while I was literally losing my fucking mind .”

I take a breath, but she doesn’t stop.

“He shouldn’t have done it to you. He sure as hell shouldn’t have done it to me. And if you think I’m just gonna sit around while he molds you into some secret weapon for whatever bullshit war he’s prepping for, then maybe you don’t know me at all.”

I step toward her. “What are you saying?”

But she just shakes her head, grabs her bag, and brushes past me.

“You better talk to Mom and ask her why this happened!” I finally shout as she reaches the door.

Adora freezes and for a moment I think she might ask me more. I’m ready to tell her what I know if it means she’ll stay. She’ll listen. That she’ll be my sister and with me in this.

But instead she takes another step away.

“Where are you going?” I demand.

“Anywhere that isn’t here ,” she throws over her shoulder. “I can’t breathe in this family anymore.”

And then she’s gone.

I stand there for a long time, staring at the door she walked through, trying to decide if I should chase her.

I don’t, but only because I’m too full of rage to move.

And by the time I make it home, my hands are trembling, my pulse skipping. The air feels thick. The scent of rain that hasn’t fallen. That static . That pull . My anger and irritation are boiled to the top and I can’t suppress it anymore.

And then I see Stefan leaning against the porch railing like he’s been waiting. Like he never stopped.

“Kendall,” he says, standing straight. “We need to talk.”

“Not now?—”

“No,” he cuts in, voice harder than I’ve ever heard. “No more deflecting. No more vague bullshit. You’re not the same, and it’s killing me trying to figure out why.”

I go cold. “Stefan?—”

“You smell different. You move different. You look at me like I’m a stranger half the time. And I keep giving you space thinking it’s temporary, that it’s just stress or trauma or something we can work through?—”

“You can’t work through this,” I say, voice sharp. “You don’t want to.”

“Try me!”

I clench my fists. Feel my nails start to stretch, my bones ache. The moon’s not even full, but the heat is there . I haven’t changed since the bite, but I recognize what’s trying to happen. It can’t though.

“You don’t get it,” I whisper. “You never will.”

He takes a step closer. “Then make me understand.”

Something snaps.

Suddenly I’m not holding it back anymore.

My body shifts —bones cracking, skin pulling tight, muscles flexing under too-thin flesh. It’s not a full shift, not quite, but my hands claw out, my eyes glow gold, and a low snarl rips from my throat.

Stefan stumbles back.

And the horror on his face hits me harder than any blade ever could.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. “What the fuck are you?”

I freeze.

The adrenaline dies. The shift fades. But the damage is done.

He steps back again, like I might lunge.

“I—I didn’t mean to?—”

But he’s already running.

Gone before I can figure out if I should go after him, just like I did with Adora.

Just like that, the last thread to my old life snaps.