CHAPTER THIRTY THREE: WHEN MERCY BLEEDS

The scream cut through the lower district just after midnight.

Aria felt it before the alarms sounded. A sharp pull in her chest. A ripple through the bond she now shared with the city itself. Fear. Pain. Anger twisted together into something volatile.

She was already on her feet when Luca entered the room, fastening his jacket with swift, practiced movements.

“A hybrid,” he said. “Lower market. Two injured. One dead.”

Aria closed her eyes for a single breath.

So soon.

They arrived to chaos. Crowds pressed back by guards. Blood staining the stone near a collapsed stall. The body lay still beneath a thin covering, human by scent, young by the weight of grief clinging to the air.

The hybrid responsible stood restrained a few feet away. Male. Early twenties. His eyes were wild, glowing faintly with panic rather than malice.

“He attacked without provocation,” one guard reported. “Lost control.”

Aria stepped closer, ignoring the murmurs that followed her movement. She felt everything. The victim’s fading echo. The hybrid’s terror. The crowd’s hunger for punishment.

This was the moment the council had been waiting for.

Luca’s voice was low. “Say the word and I end this.”

Aria shook her head slowly. “No.”

She knelt beside the body, placing her hand flat against the cold stone near it. Her throat tightened. This was the cost she had feared. Not abstract. Not distant. Real.

She rose and turned to the hybrid.

“Look at me,” she said.

He hesitated, then lifted his gaze. Tears streaked his face. “I did not mean to. It just happened. I heard voices. I felt hunted.”

Aria believed him.

She also felt the anger stirring deep inside her. Not rage that demanded destruction, but something colder. Something steadier.

“You broke the law,” she said clearly. “A life was lost because you failed to control yourself.”

He dropped to his knees. “Please. I will leave. I will disappear.”

“That will not bring him back,” a voice from the crowd shouted.

The tension spiked instantly.

Aria raised her hand, and the crowd fell silent without her needing to force it.

“Mercy does not mean absence of consequence,” she said. “And justice does not mean cruelty.”

She turned slightly toward Luca. “Bring the council witnesses.”

Several arrived moments later, expressions tight, expectant.

Aria faced them all. “This city cannot survive if restraint is mistaken for weakness. He will be punished. Publicly. Permanently.”

The hybrid’s shoulders sagged in relief mixed with dread.

“You will be stripped of enhanced access to the city,” Aria continued. “You will work under supervision. You will carry the weight of what you have done every day you live.”

“And if he refuses?” a council member demanded.

“Then he is exiled,” Aria replied calmly. “Not executed.”

Murmurs erupted again.

The eastern leader stepped forward sharply. “This proves our fears. Your mercy invites blood.”

Aria turned on him, her gaze hard. “No. His lack of control invited blood. My response determines whether more follows.”

Luca watched her closely. He could feel it too. Her power responding not to anger, but to grief. It pressed outward, quiet but undeniable.

The hybrid bowed his head fully. “I accept.”

Aria nodded once. “Then you live with what you have done.”

As the guards led him away, the crowd slowly dispersed. Some satisfied. Some uneasy.

Luca stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You just drew a line no one can ignore.”

“I know,” she said softly.

They returned to the mansion in silence. Inside, the weight finally crushed down on her.

Aria sank onto the edge of the bed, hands trembling. “Someone died because I believed in restraint.”

Luca knelt in front of her, gripping her hands firmly. “Someone died because the world is broken. Not because of you.”

She looked at him, eyes shining. “What if this happens again?”

“It will,” he answered honestly.

Her breath hitched.

“And when it does,” he continued, “you will face it again. And again. That is leadership.”

A knock echoed through the room.

One of Luca’s lieutenants entered, expression grim. “There is more.”

Aria straightened instantly. “Say it.”

“We intercepted a message,” he said. “From your mother.”

Aria’s pulse spiked. “To whom?”

“To the families of the victim,” he replied. “She is offering protection. Compensation. A promise of justice under her rule.”

The room went cold.

“She is turning grief against me,” Aria whispered.

“Yes,” Luca said. “And she chose her timing perfectly.”

Aria stood slowly, something settling inside her. Not fire. Not fear.

Resolve.

“She wants me to choose between mercy and authority,” Aria said. “Between heart and rule.”

Luca stepped close, his hand resting against her back. “And what will you choose?”

Aria looked out the window, toward the city lights flickering like fragile stars.

“I will choose both,” she said quietly. “And if that makes me her greatest threat, so be it.”

Far away, unseen, her mother smiled.

The game was no longer about power.

It was about breaking Aria from the inside.

And for the first time, Aria understood just how personal this war was going to become.