SILAS POV.
The hot water burned against my skin as I stood under the shower, watching the blood swirl down the drain. It wasn’t mine. It never was.
I tilted my head back, letting the water wash away the filth, the grime, the remnants of my brother’s weak, pathetic body. He had been nothing more than an obstacle—a stepping stone to something greater. And now, there was nothing left of him except the blood staining my hands.
I had been the youngest. The least important.
The one they never bothered to think about.
Not once had they searched for me after I left home all those years ago. Not once had they called my name. It was easier to forget me. And they had.
But soon… oh, so soon… they would remember.
Soon, they would come crawling, begging for a place at my table.
But this time, I
