My Sister Framed Me, I Joined The Army

Chapter 2

The next morning, I changed into a black high-collared dress to hide the bruises Tristan had left on my neck the night before. The wound at my temple hadn't yet scabbed over, and blood was still seeping through the gauze. When the housekeeper saw me heading out, she hesitated. "Madam, should we let the master know?"

I shook my head. There was no need. From today on, where I went, who I saw, whether I hurt or not, whether I lived or died, none of it had anything to do with Tristan anymore.

My first stop was City Hall.

Five years ago, I married Tristan in this very building. The wind was fierce that day, but he gripped my hand so tightly, as though afraid I might be blown away. After we walked out with the marriage license, he pressed it to his chest and grinned like a fool.

"Selene, from today on, you're not alone anymore."

I had believed him then. Believed him so completely that on the anniversary of my parents' deaths, when he knelt beside me at their graves with red-rimmed eyes and swore he would protect me in their place for the rest of my life, I never once doubted it.

Now I stood at the foot of the same steps, an old photograph clenched in my palm. In the picture, he was bending down to kiss my forehead. Outside the picture, the wound on my forehead still throbbed.

I tore the photo in half and dropped it into the trash.

The second stop was the Old Linden Tree on the south side of the city. The bark was rough beneath my fingers as I traced the names we had once carved into it. Tristan and Selene. Between them, a crooked little heart. He had carved it the day he proposed.

The young, dignified Major General Locke dropped to one knee in the dirt, fumbled the ring out with clumsy fingers, and stammered through the words,

"Selene, I'm not good with words, but I'll be good to you. I've taken lives in my time, I've seen blood, and I've never believed in any god. But today, I'm asking the heavens to let me protect you and grow old with you."

When he slipped the ring onto my finger, I cried so hard I could barely stand. The names on the trunk had been weathered smooth by years of rain and wind, and now only I still remembered. As it turned out, the first thing to fade was never the letters. It was the heart.

The third stop was the Riverside Bench. This was where I had first met Tristan.

I was fifteen that year, and the Whitmore family had been hunted down by their enemies. Fire had consumed half the mountain, blood had run down into the river, and even the water had turned red.

I could have fought my way out. I was the most gifted child the Whitmore family had produced in a hundred years. At ten years old, I could catch bullets with my bare hands, at twelve, I could sense an explosion before it happened, and by fifteen, if I had wanted to, no one within a hundred meters would have been able to lay a finger on me.

But in their final moments, my parents used the last of their power to drive seven Binding Pins into my major pressure points. They sealed away my Psionic Abilities, and they sealed away my combat skills too. My mother, her hands soaked in blood, held me and wept. "Selene, don't seek revenge. Don't get drawn in. Just live like an ordinary person." My father took the final blade meant for me, his voice raw. "Staying alive is what matters most."

I watched them die in front of me. I couldn't save them. I couldn't avenge them either.

Tristan happened to pass by afterward, moved by pity, and sent his men to take care of my parents' bodies. He was still a young officer then, sharp and striking, brows like swords and eyes like stars. He saw me crying so hard I was hiccupping, took off his coat, draped it around my shoulders, and patted me lightly on the back.

"Everything will be fine. You can come with me."

I looked up at him. The wind off the river had pasted tears all over my face. In that moment, I thought I finally found a home again.

And for a long time, he made good on his word. He would hold me tight when I had nightmares, cover my ears on stormy nights, and tell me, "Selene, your enemies are mine to carry. Whatever path you walk, I'll walk it with you."

Now, with his own hands, he had pushed me back into that fire. Crueler than the enemies who had killed my parents. They had only killed my parents. He killed my heart.

The last stop was the cemetery. I knelt before my parents' graves, my forehead pressed to the cold stone. The wind moved past me like my mother's hand once had, and at last, I broke down crying.

"Dad. Mom. I'm sorry. You sealed away my blade because you wanted me to live. But I can't go on living as an ordinary person."

I pulled out my phone. The reply from Section 9 was still there on the screen.

Section 9: The Binding Pins can be drawn out. The process is excruciating, the risk extreme. Confirm?

I stared at my parents' names on the stone, my fingertips tightening little by little. "I don't want to keep hiding. I don't want to keep begging others to protect me. They've trampled my marriage, destroyed my sister, and turned your daughter into a joke. So this time, I'm going to defy your last wish."

I tapped "Confirm".

I had only just risen to my feet when the phone buzzed again. It was the asylum. The voice on the other end was rushed. "Ms. Whitmore, your sister has had a sudden episode. She keeps screaming your name. You need to come right away."

The blood drained out of me in an instant. From the other end of the line came Daisy's sobs, ragged and desperate.

"Sister, don't provoke them... Please, don't provoke them anymore...!"