Chapter 8

Eleanor POV:

The command hung in the air, a chilling death sentence. "No!" I screamed, lunging forward, but Blake's men were faster, pinning my arms behind my back. I struggled, my heart hammering against my ribs, watching in horror as one of Blake's hulking goons raised a heavy boot, then brought it down on Ethan's already bruised leg. A sickening crack echoed across the pier. Ethan cried out, a guttural sound of pure agony.

"Stop it! Blake, stop!" I shrieked, tears streaming down my face. "He's your friend! He's always been loyal to you!"

Blake watched, his face impassive, a cold, empty look in his eyes. Hayleigh, sniffling delicately beside him, leaned into his arm. The goon kept kicking, Ethan's screams slowly fading into whimpers. My own blood ran cold. This wasn't the Blake I knew. This was a monster, fueled by lies and rage.

Finally, the goon stepped back, leaving Ethan a crumpled, bleeding mess on the ground. Blake turned, a dark satisfaction in his eyes, and walked away with Hayleigh, leaving us there.

I broke free from the guards, scrambling to Ethan's side, my hands shaking as I tried to staunch the blood flowing from his wounds. "Ethan, stay with me! Please!" His eyes were glazed, his breathing shallow. He looked at me, a faint, sad smile on his lips.

"Eleanor... I'm sorry," he whispered, a cough wracking his body. Blood bloomed on his lips. "Couldn't... save it. Your empire... your dream..." His eyes rolled back, and he went limp.

"No! Ethan!" I cried, cradling his head, his blood soaking my hands. The pain, the grief, the utter despair overwhelmed me. My vision blurred, and a sharp, searing pain tore through my chest. I gasped, a choking sound, and then my own world spun into darkness. I collapsed beside him, the last thing I saw was the cold, grey sky.

When I awoke, it was to the sickening sensation of falling. A dizzying, stomach-lurching plunge into nothingness. My eyes snapped open, and my breath caught in my throat. I was suspended in mid-air, a thick rope biting into my wrists, my feet dangling precariously over the churning, black ocean far below. The salty spray kissed my face, a grim welcome.

Beside me, Hayleigh was also suspended, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror, whimpering hysterically. "Help me! I can't swim! Blake! Mom! Dad!"

I looked up. Above us, on the cliff edge, stood Brock Hawkins, his men, and to my horror, Blake, his face a mask of anguish. My biological parents, Hanson and Eleni Frye, stood beside him, their expressions grim.

"Choose!" Brock's voice echoed across the chasm, amplified by the wind. "One lives, one dies! Blake, you pick your precious Hayleigh! And the Fryes, you pick your 'long-lost' daughter!" He laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. "Or they both fall!"

My heart hammered against my ribs. A twisted game. A choice. I looked at Blake, then at my parents. My real parents. A sliver of hope, a desperate, foolish hope, flickered within me. Surely, they wouldn't choose her. Not over their own flesh and blood.

Brock started a countdown. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"

I watched Blake, his eyes darting between Hayleigh and me. He was torn. And then, his gaze settled on Hayleigh, a desperate longing in his eyes.

"Five! Four!"

My parents, their faces a picture of tortured indecision, looked at each other. Eleni' s hand reached for Hanson' s. They nodded.

"Three! Two! One!"

"Hayleigh!" Blake screamed, his voice raw.

"Hayleigh!" my parents cried, almost simultaneously.

The world went silent. My hope, that fragile, foolish thing, shattered. They chose her. All of them. They chose the lie. They chose the manipulation. They chose the one who had brought me so much pain.

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped me. Blake. He was still so blind. He still played the hero to her manufactured innocence. He would never see. He would never learn.

I closed my eyes. A wave of profound peace washed over me, a strange sense of liberation. The pain, the betrayal, the never-ending struggle – it was all over. I wouldn't have to fight anymore. I wouldn't have to carry the weight of a love that was never truly mine.

The rope gave way with a sickening snap.

I fell. A deafening roar of wind and water, then the icy shock of the ocean engulfing me. Darkness. Cold. Freedom.