The floor was cold beneath her knees.
Elira barely felt it.
Her hands were slick with blood—Delilah’s blood—and the gold-handled knife Golderdy had left behind still trembled where Damien had slammed it into the wall.
Amelia was gone.
Amira was missing.
And now the sound in her ears wasn’t crying—it was her own breath, shallow, ragged, like she was drowning again.
Just like she had when she was a child.
“Elira,” Damien knelt in front of her, gripping her arms. “You’re spiraling. Breathe.”
“I remember,” she choked out. “I remember what I did to Leah.”
His eyes flickered. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “No. You don’t want to hear this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her nails dug into her own skin. “I tried to drown her, Damien.”
His whole body went still.
“I took her into the pool,” Elira whis
