Chapter 74

Lucas’ POV

Sabrina and I learned early on that survival wasn’t something handed to you—it was something you fought for. We learned this from our father’s fists and our mother’s silence. When Dad lashed out, Mom never flinched. She didn’t intervene, didn’t shield us. She just watched, her arms folded, detached and cold, as if the chaos in her home wasn’t her problem.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe we weren’t.

Dad had a special kind of hate reserved for Sabrina. She was too much like him—ruthless, quick to anger, always calculating. He couldn’t beat that instinct out of her, so he settled for trying to snuff out her spirit. I was the opposite. I inherited his power, but not his cruelty. My softness—the thing he called weakness—drove him mad.