Page 193 of Savage Throne
The indignity of it hit me like a blow to the chest. Not that her body—ruined as it was—could stir desire, but the disrespect in the act was undeniable. My father had reduced Chanel, a woman who had once commanded rooms and controlled the West, to nothing more than a prop in his twisted game.
Do you even know how to fight with honor anymore?
Rage bubbled beneath my exhaustion.
Her head lolled to the side. Her lifeless eyes stared at nothing yet still pierced through me.
Pleading.
Accusing.
So close, the stench of decay clung to the air like an unwelcome ghost. It was everywhere, inescapable, wrapping itself around me as I stood motionless, staring at Chanel’s ruined form.
But the longer I stood there, the less the smell seemed to matter.
The lesssheeven seemed to matter.
This isn’t Chanel.
Chanel had been gone for a long time.
Don’t just get angry and act. That’s exactly what he wants you to do. Instead. . .wait and think.
I looked at the situation deeper.
Okay.
This display of her naked dead body in front of the East was meant to be a mockery. A cruel imitation of the woman Chanel once was, crafted by my father who thrived on manipulation and control.
I forced my breathing to be steady.
Alright. Now go further. What else?
My father had done this for a reason—to get in my head.
To make me falter.
He thought this would shatter me, would crack my resolve and leave me vulnerable.
But he was wrong.
In the end, Chanel’s body wasn’t here because of him.
It was because ofme.
I clenched my jaw as that realization hit my chest with brutal clarity.
I was the one who had taken Chanel’s body. Stolen it like some selfish, grieving thief, believing I could somehow protect her, even in death. I’d let my guilt and anger blind me, and in doing so, I’d given my sister Yan—and now my father—the perfect weapon to use against me.
I stared at Chanel’s lifeless form, the cracks in her skin, the emptiness in her eyes, and felt something shift inside me.
For the first time since I’d seen her, there was no surge of anger, no desperate wave of guilt.
Just. . .absolute acceptance.
Chanel wasn’t here anymore. Not in any way that mattered. She had died long ago, her vibrant light extinguished by the same man who stood across from me now.
Her death wasn’t my fault.
