#closed drabble

meisa tilted her head, lips curving in something soft—almost nervous, but still too smooth around the edges. “you’ve grown.”

cain barked a bitter laugh. “yeah, that’s what happens when you leave kids behind for a decade or two.”

meisa flinched. only a little. barely enough to be noticed—but cain caught it.

god, she was tired. tired of pretending it didn’t matter. tired of pretending that austin stepping in was enough—that burying everything under blood and fire and knuckles split raw had done anything but delay the inevitable.

meisa took a step in. slow. deliberate. cautious, like she knew what cain was capable of now. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“you left.”

“i didn’t know how to explain—”

“try.” cain’s voice cracked, loud and sharp. “try telling a kid why her mom doesn’t age. why she vanishes. why she doesn’t even call. or how about the bloodlust? we could talk about that?”

meisa’s lips parted, but whatever answer she had fell flat before it reached the air.

too little. too late.

and suddenly, cain moved.

not at her. just beside her.

her fist slammed into the wall an inch from meisa’s head—through the drywall, through the pain, through every year of silence she’d swallowed like glass. the wall caved like it owed her something, and her hand came back shredded and bleeding.

the scent of blood hit the air. thick. metallic. familiar.

cain pulled the cloth from her pocket, wrapped the hand like she’d done it a hundred times before—because she had. tight. fast. practiced.

meisa’s eyes fell to her hands. then stayed.

bruises. scabs. scars. some healed. some new. all violent.

she didn’t say anything.

cain did. her voice was low. uneven.

“you think austin was supposed to be my parent? he was a kid. he couldn’t even keep me from blowing out the damn windows when i got angry. do you know what it’s like to see your brother cry because he doesn’t know how to fix you?”

meisa stayed quiet.

because no. she didn’t know.

she didn’t know about the bloodlust. about the days cain couldn’t breathe through it. about the way she’d tear through furniture and walls and people because the darkness inside her didn’t care about right or wrong.

she didn’t know how it felt to wake up with blood on your hands and no memory of what you did to earn it. she didn’t know because she wasn’t there.

“i didn’t think you’d come out like this,” meisa finally said, voice quiet. not an excuse. just a truth.

cain’s eyes flared. “what the hell does that mean?”

meisa held her gaze. steady. for once, she didn’t try to deflect. didn’t flash a grin or change the subject or offer something pretty and meaningless.

“sometimes it skips a generation,” she said. “sometimes it stays buried. sometimes it never comes out at all.”

cain’s jaw ticked. “so you left to avoid a maybe.”

“i left because i didn’t know how to be a mother to someone like you---like us,” meisa admitted. “i was barely learning how to live with it myself.”

cain looked like she might hit the wall again. or scream. or shatter entirely.

but she didn’t.

she just stood there. breathing hard. bleeding. shaking.

meisa stepped closer. slow. “i know it’s too late to fix anything,” she said. “i know what i did. i just—i want you to know i never stopped loving you.”

cain stared at her. cold and hollow. then, quietly, she muttered: “love doesn’t mean shit if you leave.” and she walked out. hand still bleeding. rage still burning.

meisa didn’t follow.

she just looked at the blood on the wall and wondered if maybe—just maybe—the wound cain carried was one she’d carved herself.

Dirk walked to the Forge, his hands in his pockets. The fingers in one of the pockets were fiddling with something out of sight. He looked down at the slowly roiling magma in the center of the forge, the heat source to his entire metal-working enterprise. The blood of the very planet they’d created. God, he was so dramatic sometimes.

He glanced around, making triple sure Roxy was asleep and nobody else could possibly be watching. He even turned off his shades. Total surveillance blackout. There was no data, video documentation, or notes about this plan. It was all mapped out in his head. The measurements were made with precise, patient eyeballing and handling. Dirk bent down and smacked a very particular panel on the side of the Forge in a very particular spot in a very particular strength. The panel creaked and slide aside minutely, to which Dirk pulled it aside roughly. Inside was a perfect biosynthetic duplicate of Roxy’s arm, which he pulled out and set on the table. He sighed, pulling a stool out from the same panel and sitting down, looking at the disembodied arm, specifically the hand. The fingers were an exact match to the real Roxy’s, and he’d made triple sure. Officially, this was just a spare arm for the body double of Roxy he obviously had already made.

From his pocket, Dirk pulled out a ring. He stared down at it. Such a small circlet of metal. He could easily snap this in half with his thumb and forefinger. Useless, pointless, gaudy. And yet, he had spent months upon months measuring it, forging it, gently engraving every single minuscule detail. Spending months in the mountain’s depths, mining for minerals and gems until he found the proper ones.

He placed the ring on the replica hand. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. He’d made sure of it. All he needed to do was give it to her. Tell her how he felt. Show her that he was prepared to spend eternity, literal eternity, together with her. When this universe ended, they would find a new one to live in together. It was easy, it was just words.

And here he was. Hesitating. Why? Isn’t this what she would want? Did he not want to make her happy? Of course he did. But was this what he wanted. Honestly, he didn’t see a difference either way. What would change? They lived together already. He trained her, kept her in shape and battle-ready. Together, they were an unstoppable powerhouse. He could foresee no reason to ever leave her. This ring was just an old, outdated, probably problematic in someway, tradition from an Earth that neither of them ever really knew, and had been destroyed long ago in any case. There was no reason for this to be difficult to him.

Dirk stared at the ring on an exact replica of Roxy’s finger. The way the band glinted in the light of the magma, the sparkle of the small stones embedded and decorate on the top. He stared at this fragile, easily removable, easily lost representation of a bond that would supposedly last until one or both of them died for good, which theoretically may never even happen. And once again, as he’d been doing for a few months now, he hesitated.

He gently took the ring off the finger. He hid the arm again. He pushed his shades up his face, looking at the ring in the dim light with his bare eyes. His tired, bloodshot, slightly glowing eyes. He leaned in close, pulling out a small tool that would probably look at home in a dentists office. He made a very minor engraving details. Again. He’d just kept adding more and more smaller and small details. He wanted it to be perfect.

kellan made the mistake of glancing up. and luca smiled at her. cain felt her entire soul clench.

luca's head tilted slightly, studying her like she was made of starlight and warning signs. "you’ve got that stillness to you. like you’re listening for something. like a storm about to happen. it's nice. rare."

kellan tried to smile. it came out awkward and crooked. her brain was actively shutting down. what the hell did that mean? "you always like this?" she asked, nervous.

"only when i'm awake," luca said, grinning.

cain’s knuckles audibly cracked.

what made it worse was that luca wasn’t trying. she wasn’t even flirting, not really. she was just doing that infuriating thing she did—talking like the world wasn’t real and everyone else was part of some dream she was floating through. and kellan was buying it. wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, like luca had whispered a spell right into her bones. "you done?" cain said, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "or do you need a formal invitation to back the fuck off?"

luca finally turned to look at her. her expression was soft. amused. bored in a way that made cain want to throw something expensive.

"oh come on," luca said. "i'm just being polite."

"that wasn’t polite. that was the social equivalent of licking her face."

"not true. that comes later."

cain’s eye twitched.

kellan, whose heart had fully defected from her ribcage, tried to sip water and missed her own mouth slightly.

luca stood and stretched—slow, luxurious, like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb and walked away from the blast in slow motion. “anyway,” she said, already meandering toward the kitchen. “if you’re hiding more family like this, cain, you should really let me know. for science.”

cain glared after her. “if you come back in this room, i will throw you out a window.”

luca called back, “you say that every time. you never do it.”

“this time i mean it!”

she did not.

kellan sat very, very still.

cain exhaled sharply through her nose and pinched the bridge of it like she could crush the feelings right out of her skull. “don’t look at her like that,” she muttered.

“like what?” kellan asked, too fast.

cain gave her a long, dangerous look. “like she just opened a portal to god.”

kellan looked away, ears hot.

from the kitchen, luca called, “do we believe in god, or is this one of those metaphorical conversations again?”

“get out of my house!”

“you invited me!”

“i regret it!”

cain considered making a scene.

instead, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and sulked dramatically. kellan was blushing. luca was whistling. cain was thinking about clawing through drywall.

next time, she’d just fake an illness. or move states.

or sedate them both.

…sedation was sounding better by the minute.

cain’s eyes burned with a dark hunger, jaw clenched so tight her knuckles whitened. the moment the two men sauntered too close, spurred on by dylan’s whispered provocations, her rage ignited like dry tinder set aflame. the first man sneered, chest puffed with misplaced confidence, but cain was no ordinary predator. she was a maelstrom of raw power and tortured grace, a blend of relentless fury and cold, calculated menace that could shatter bones and souls alike.

her voice, low and brutal, cut through the thick air like a serrated blade. “you walk into a storm blind, expecting the rain to cleanse you. but i am the thunder that rends the skies, the lightning that burns your fragile flesh.”

the first punch came swift, but cain caught the man’s fist midair, twisting it cruelly. a sick crack echoed, and he collapsed to the floor, writhing as pain claimed him. she didn’t hesitate—her boot slammed into his ribs, breaking what was left of his pride.

the second man, eyes wide with panic now, made a mistake. he lunged. cain moved like a shadow turned flesh, a blur of brutal precision and barely contained savagery. her palm cracked against his jaw, the sound snapping through the bar like a gunshot. blood bloomed from his lips as she followed up with a brutal knee to the gut, stealing his breath and resolve.

through it all, dylan hummed softly—an eerie, ethereal melody that slipped through the chaos like a spell. her gaze never wavered from cain, the ferocity only deepening the twisted affection in her eyes.

“you think this a game?” cain snarled, stepping close enough to lean in, her breath hot and ragged against the man’s ear. “i am the reckoning you begged for in your darkest prayers. the shadow that devours hope. and tonight, you bleed for your sins.” her fingers curled like claws around his throat, the pressure merciless. “remember my name when the darkness finds you—when you see the stars flicker out one by one.”

the man’s eyes glazed over, barely clinging to consciousness, and cain pulled back with a cruel smirk, leaving him gasping on the floor. dylan clapped softly, giggling. “magnificent, darling. absolutely magnificent.” she rose from her seat, signaling towards the door. and for cain to fall in line and follow.

cain’s chest heaved, rage still burning hot beneath her skin. the crowd parted instinctively, whispers chasing them as they moved toward the exit.

outside, the cool night air was sharp, biting into cain’s skin but failing to quell the wildfire in her veins. dylan stepped close, the flicker of her smile wicked and knowing.

“take it out on me, puppy,” she whispered, voice honey-sweet and edged with command.

her hand rose slow, fingers sliding to cain’s throat with a light touch that was all dominance and promise. a pulse flared—a silent claim marked in the space between breath and skin—before dylan’s eyes softened, melting back into doe-like innocence.

cain snarled low, the beast inside her roaring beneath the surface, and dylan smiled, savoring the wild ferocity that made her so dangerously irresistible.

_____

the night pressed close, thick and heavy with tension, the city’s distant hum swallowed by the storm crackling between them. cain’s chest rose and fell like a beast on the hunt, muscles taut beneath bruised skin, every nerve screaming for release. her eyes, wild and feral, locked onto dylan’s—hungry, fierce, raw.

dylan’s fingers tightened slightly at cain’s throat, a silent tether pulling the chaos just a fraction closer, stoking the fire. “come on, little beast,” she murmured, voice slick with dark amusement. “let me see how deep that hunger really runs.”

cain growled low, something primal and ancient clawing its way up from her gut. she lurched forward, closing the space in a heartbeat, lips brushing dylan’s jaw in a rough, possessive kiss that tasted like fury and want. her hands didn’t hesitate—clawing into dylan’s hips, dragging her closer, needing the solid heat to match the storm raging inside.

there was no tenderness here, not yet. only the raw, desperate need to tear through the suffocating tension, to shred the weight of rage into something feral and alive. cain’s breath was ragged, a mix of growls and whispered curses as she pressed harder, nails digging in, a silent promise of pain and pleasure tangled together.

dylan’s laugh was a dark thrill, low and throaty, as she leaned into the wild assault. her own hands slid up cain’s back, sharp and sure, the touch like fire tracing along scars and sinew. “you’re a beautiful disaster,” she breathed, voice soaked in wicked affection. “a calamity wrapped in flesh.”

cain’s eyes flicked shut for a moment, the tension in her jaw loosening just enough to hiss, “i’m yours to break.”

“oh, i know that, my loyal little wolf. always mine to break. over and over and over.” dylan’s fingers tightened again, a wordless command that sent a shiver spiraling down cain’s spine. she tasted like danger—like a promise that no one could tame the fire burning behind those storm-dark eyes.

and maybe that was the point. the chaos wasn’t a curse; it was a tether, binding them together in this reckless, hungry dance. cain snarled softly, fingers twisting in dylan’s shirt as the city blurred around them—two wild things, carved from pain and fury, locked in a brutal, exquisite kind of devotion.

dylan snapped.

the psychic threads lunged at her. sharp, precise. luca felt it—like the brush of cold fingers over the back of her neck. it might’ve been chilling if she hadn’t already been drifting three inches off the ground in a haze of weed and apathy.

“oh, we’re doing this,” luca mumbled, lazily blinking. “aight.”

the pressure in the room shifted. dylan’s power tried to wrap around her nervous system, tried to string her limbs like a marionette. luca could sense the command in it—compel. override. dominate.

she just… didn’t let it.

with a flick of two fingers, luca rerouted the probability around her. dylan's power slipped. backfired. snapped like a rubber band and nearly knocked her off her feet.

"okay," luca yawned. "that was actually kinda cool. you’ve been practicing."

dylan’s expression darkened. there was something unhinged in her eyes now—quiet, brilliant malice. sociopathic precision. "you really think you can just—"

“—exist? yeah. it’s kinda my thing,” luca muttered, pulling the bong back to her lips. she took another slow drag, held it, let the smoke seep through her teeth as dylan’s eyes lit up with fury.

dylan struck.

the air cracked with tension. she moved like a scalpel—every gesture calibrated to cut deep. veins in her hands bulged, eyes glowing with that feral glint she wore when she stopped playing and started hunting. will-bending and puppetry twisted around each other like a double helix, vicious and beautiful. stepped forward physically, her hands outstretched and aiming for luca's throat.

luca dodged. not with grace. more like… a slouching sidestep. luca moved like liquid gravity. no rush. no panic. just a soft shift of reality around her like space parted out of respect. she ducked. spun. kicked dylan in the stomach hard enough to send her flying into the far wall.

then she whistled the opening notes of kid cudi's pursuit of happiness. she whistled the hook, low and off-key, as if the fight bored her more than it threatened her. dylan’s lips curled into a snarl.

luca ducked under a psychic lash, flipped dylan off mid-dodge, then caught her own sandal midair when it was psychically thrown at her.

“yo,” luca blinked. “was that my shoe?”

dylan rose. bloody, snarling, grinning. her power surged again—tense, invisible, controlling. she reached into luca’s nervous system with cruel precision.

luca froze. just for a moment. and then she chuckled.

"oh shit," she mumbled. "i forgot we were fighting."

her fingers twitched. the probability field around her warped like glass under heat. dylan staggered back as the very laws of cause and effect rewrote themselves in real time.

luca sat up fully, pupils blown wide, starlight swimming in her irises now. she looked high—and she was—but beneath it, there was something vast. incomprehensible. a dormant being waking up from a nap she never meant to end. dylan lunged. luca blinked—and suddenly dylan was on the ceiling, back contorted, screaming.

"okay," luca said, rising slowly. "you’re being a little dramatic."

the air grew thick, electric. luca stepped forward and with each motion, the world shifted to accommodate her. gravity bent. light dimmed. she moved like the universe held its breath for her—because, in a way, it did.

dylan reached for her mind again. luca turned her head. the room cracked. the floor beneath dylan gave out, not from force—but because luca decided it should. space twisted around her fingertips, time jittered. for a brief moment, luca was nowhere and everywhere, fractal and divine.

and then all of it collapsed. luca’s hand closed. dylan dropped like a marionette whose strings had been incinerated. she didn’t move. not out of unconsciousness, but stunned awe. fear. her body trembled as she stared up at the sister she thought she could control. luca knelt beside her, still chewing on the stem of a lollipop she'd forgotten she had.

"you done with your tantrum?" she asked softly.

dylan blinked. her mouth opened. nothing came out. luca smiled, soft and lazy again, and patted dylan’s shoulder.

"you’re lucky i love you," she said. "i could’ve unmade you. but that feels like… a lot of effort."

then she stood, wandered back to the couch, and took another hit.

the universe stitched itself back together around her.

and dylan finally understood what elias meant—why luca’s power wasn’t a threat.

it was a choice.

"yeah, babe, right there’s good," luca breathed from the couch, half-lidded eyes watching her sub settle on the floor between her legs. a lazy exhale of smoke drifted from her lips, curling around her words like punctuation. "you look real pretty down there. like some kinda cosmic gift, you know? all wrapped up and just for me."

she didn’t move much. barely even lifted her hand—just rested it on her sub’s head, fingers carding slowly through their hair. soothing. aimless. like a high tide rolling in and out without a care in the world.

"you’re doin’ so fuckin' good," she said, grin slow and lopsided. eyes fluttering as those gorgeous lips wrapped around her cock like second nature. the suction was slow and concentrated....just how she liked it. "don’t need to rush. time’s fake anyway, right? just a made-up concept."

her phone buzzed once on the coffee table, but she didn’t even glance at it. too busy enjoying the weight of her sub’s obedience, the quiet control without needing to bark commands. control was like gravity—pulling everything toward her with no effort at all.

"mm... you want praise or you just vibin’ with the energy?" she asked, voice molasses-thick and amused. "either way, you’ve got my attention. that’s rare, y’know. most things can be glossed over in this reality. not you, though. you? you’re like... a lucid dream i don’t wanna wake up from. i like when you use your tongue like that."

she passed the joint down, a lazy flick of her fingers. “hit this. yeah. share the frequency, baby girl. then lemme feel that mouth, okay? just empty you mind and part those pretty lips for me again.”

“i didn’t fucking touch her,” cain snapped. “i was angry, yeah, but i left the room. i always leave the room.”

“this time,” price said gently. “you left the room this time.”

cain turned on her so fast the air shifted.

“you think i’d hurt her?” she snarled, voice cracking. “is that what you think of me now? that i’m just some rabid dog you keep around on a leash?”

“don’t twist my words, cain.”

“then say what you mean.”

the power flickered again. darkness swallowed the room for half a second, then spat it back out. shadows danced over cain’s face, and for a moment—just a breath—she looked inhuman. all teeth and fire and eyes that burned.

“you scare her,” price said softly. “you scared me.”

silence dropped like a blade.

cain’s lips parted. her hands opened and closed like she couldn’t decide what to do with them. there was blood beneath her fingernails. she took a step forward, and something in her shoulders twitched, like violence wasn’t just a possibility—it was a reflex.

“you think i’m a monster,” she said, voice too small now. “you really think i’d hurt her.”

price didn’t move. didn’t flinch.

“i think rage eats people alive,” she said, stepping into cain’s path. “i think you forget who you are when you let it have you. and i think love is not always enough to keep a person safe from the fire they sleep beside.”

cain’s hand twitched again. it rose, halfway between them. just high enough that for a breathless second, it looked like she might—

but price stood her ground. head held high, eyes steady.

“go ahead,” she whispered. “hit me if that’s what it takes. strike the one person who’s never run from you. see if it makes you feel any less like a ticking bomb.”

cain’s hand dropped. she backed away like she’d been burned. like her own body disgusted her.

“i didn’t mean—i would never—”

“but you could,” price said, softer now. “and you know that.”

cain’s breath broke. a choked, splintered sound. she turned away, fingers curling into the edge of the countertop hard enough to crack it.

“i black out sometimes,” she said, voice hollow. “i see red and i forget what room i’m in, who’s talking. sometimes i hear screaming and i don’t know who it’s coming from.”

the words hung in the air, awful and honest.

“i love her,” she whispered. “i love you. i’d rather die than hurt either of you.”

price moved then. slow, measured.

she stepped up behind cain and rested a hand on her back. gentle. grounding.

“i believe you,” she said. “but love isn’t a shield. it’s a choice. it’s what you do when the monster wants out and you choose to lock the door anyway, babes.”

cain’s shoulders shook. not with rage this time—but with something older. sadder. shame, maybe. guilt. the weight of too many rooms destroyed.

“i’ve spent years watching people justify their destruction in the name of love,” price murmured. “i won’t let you become one of them.”

cain turned, slowly, brokenly. her eyes glistened. “what are you saying?”

price stepped closer. cupped cain’s face with both hands, gentle but unyielding. “i’m saying this: if you ever lay a hand on her in anger, if you ever let that fury carve its name into her skin—i will not scream. i will not plead. i will not let you stay.”

cain swallowed hard. her lip trembled.

“i will still love you,” price said, voice shaking now. “but i will leave. and i will take her with me. and you will never see us again.”

cain’s breath hitched. she looked like she might collapse. price leaned forward and pressed her forehead to cain’s.

“come back to yourself,” she whispered. “before there’s nothing left of you to come back to.”

outside, the storm raged on. but in that quiet space between them, something shifted. a choice made. a door closed. and cain—bloodied, trembling, burning alive inside her own skin—chose to stay. chose not to run.

for now.

“breathe,” he said under his breath, already guiding her away. not rough. not scared. just knowing.

they cut through the room in silence. no one dared stop them. not when cain looked like a loaded gun, and bradley—the man built of fault lines and old wars—held her like he’d done this before. because he had.

because she was his, even if not by blood.

he didn’t speak again until they were tucked in a forgotten corner of the marble hallway, where oil paintings watched and the music dimmed to a ghost. he cupped her face gently.

“eyes on me.”

she met them. electric blue and glass-sharp. her lip trembled with restraint.

“you’re alright,” he whispered. “she doesn’t win. not tonight. not if you stay with me.”

her voice was a rasp. “i’m trying.”

“i know.” his thumb traced her cheekbone, grounding. “but i think you need more than trying, don’t you?”

cain didn’t answer. her nails dug crescents into her palms. her breath stuttered.

bradley stepped back and extended a hand. “come with me.”

they stepped out onto the balcony. night swallowed them whole. the estate lights spilled gold over the garden but didn’t reach here. here, there were no witnesses. no eyes. just wind and cold stone and a sky full of judgmental stars.

“let it out,” he said simply.

her shoulders curled. “i’ll hurt you.”

“yes.”

“bad.”

“i know.”

her eyes flared bright, blue lightning flashing at the edges. she shook. her voice cracked. “you’ll bleed.”

“then bleed me.”

and with that—something inside her snapped.

she lunged, faster than instinct, faster than thought. claws carved down his chest, shredding through fabric and skin like paper. her mouth opened wide, unhinged and wild, and sank into his shoulder—deep. she bit until the bone groaned beneath her teeth.

he grunted, pain flashing white-hot behind his eyes. but he didn’t move. didn’t flinch. just wrapped his arms around her and held her there.

like a father.

his hand found the back of her head, threading through her hair, steadying. “good. that’s it. i’ve got you.”

blood soaked through his shirt, hot and wet. her growls became screams muffled against muscle. she clawed at his ribs, ripped open more of him, until the scent of copper drowned the stars above them.

he endured.

“you’re not a monster, cain.” his voice was low. hoarse. but full of love that cut through her frenzy. “you’re hurt. and hurting things lash out. but you’re not lost. you’re still mine.”

her breath hitched.

he felt her waver—the weight of her body shaking, stuttering—and then a sob, sharp and broken, tore from her lungs.

“i hate her,” she cried into his shoulder. “i hate her so much, and i don’t want to—”

“then hate her here,” bradley whispered. “with me. where it’s safe. you don’t have to carry it alone.”

her claws retracted. her fangs dulled. he felt her strength begin to ebb, the storm receding, leaving salt and silence in its wake.

“you’ll help me?” she asked, voice so small it didn’t seem to belong to her.

he didn’t hesitate. “always and forever.”

they stood there for a long time, blood seeping between them, the wind howling low like it mourned something ancient. but bradley didn’t mind the pain. because cain hadn’t destroyed the world. she’d chosen him instead.

and he’d carry her through fire, if that’s what she needed. he already had the scars to prove it.