His Choice To Love, His Kin To Kill 소설 & 이야기

When we finally part, his eyes are silver-bright in the starlight. "I love you," he says. "Whatever happens down there, whatever we find, I need you to know that. That loving you is the first real choice I've made in my entire life. Everything else has been survival or duty or the curse. But this? Choosing to love you? That's all me." Tears sting my eyes. "I love you too. And I choose you. Every single day." We stand there under the stars, holding each other, knowing that tomorrow we embark on a journey that might kill us.

"Making us choose between the people we love until there's nothing left." He was right. Vincent wasn't trying to kill us. He was trying to destroy us. From the inside. By forcing impossible choices. By making us complicit in deaths. By... By breaking us so completely we'd never recover. "It's working," I said quietly. "I chose your mother over my brother. That choice...that will...." My voice caught. "That will always be between us. You'll always know I saved your family. I'll always know I sacrificed mine. That's..."

I don't like this at all, I had no idea they could track us in that way, or from a trail that old. The first hunter and his children had to make a sacrifice in order to gain the ability to track the werewolves, as well as the immunity to vampire venom. They gave up their wolves, sacrificing half of themselves in order to exact revenge on the wolves. Not just the wolves that betrayed them, but on all werewolves. Hunters do not remember their origins story, they have no idea that they are infactt the bad guys, willing to kill anyone who gets in the way of their mission to rid the world of all supernatural creatures. Including all creatures with powers, senses, or gifts that the average humans

I would never be able to forget how Amy's small hands clawed desperately for breath as she turned purple. Nor would I ever be able to forget how Sam clamped a hand over my mouth when I tried to call the police, nor how he told me, "We can have another child, so don't kill my mother." I would never forget how they worked together with those charlatans they called exorcists, and how I was struck with a "holy scepter" until I died. Hatred surged through my chest like a tidal wave, and for a split second, I wanted nothing more than to storm into the kitchen, grab a knife, and butcher that venomous old hag where she stood.

“I will make sure that bastard of yours never sees the light of day. I will make you watch while I kill everyone you love.” My breath catches in my throat, and my hands begin to tremble. “And then, I will end your life.” He finishes calmly and silence follows his words. My mother’s hand squeezes mine, but she says nothing. “Well?” My father asks, his voice cold as he looks at me. “Do you understand your choices?” He asks and my throat feels tight. I swallow hard, before nodding my head slowly. “You either do this… or everything you love dies.” My father says.

“When I was but a boy, he did something unforgivable. Something my father claimed only I could absolve him for. While my father loved his brother, he knew that there were consequences for such things. Given that I was the one who had been harmed, it was only fitting that I decided what those consequences might be.” The food in my stomach hardened to cement. “What did you do?” “A disease such as that has but one cure, don’t you think?” He asked carefully, “Had I gone against our family motto and shown mercy, how many other children would he have harmed? Death was the only option.” I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “You’re saying if I chose to kill Kimberly you’d stand by my side?

Her hair. If it was her, what then? Turn her over to my father and watch him carve ‘justice’ in public? Hand her to the men who would make an example of her, satisfying old loyalties at the cost of something I hadn’t yet admitted I had? Or take the darker route, take matters into my own hands, remove the threat, prove the Moretti name meant more than sentiment? Each option tasted wrong in different ways. Loyalty to my family had always been currency, proving my usefulness to my father countless times had always been all i ha ever done, But whatever I did, there would be consequences I can't escape.

He’s the greedy one that’s filling their heads with poison. My mother will be a widow, but I have no choice. I love my father, and I die inside every time I think about what I’m going to do to him, but I was a child when I agreed to this. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know I would fall for him. All I could think about was making my family proud. It was the only thing I understood — love for my family. But now I know so much more, and I’ll never be able to live with myself if I kill Paris—nothing will be worth anything without him.

She averted her gaze back to her brother, her eyes widened as he traced the gun on his chest. “I know you can do it. It’s what mom and dad said right? Protect what you love if you didn’t kill me at this point you don’t love me; think of it this way Lil sis, ‘you kill the people you love because you don’t want them to be hurt anymore from this cruel world. Isn’t that what they mean? If you don’t kill me now, I’ll be hurt, I’ll be beaten up, the organization will have me and put all the blame on me. They’ll treat me as inhuman can you imagine that? So if you love me, kill me, cause that what love is.”

"You're not sorry." "For what? For trying to kill you? For using your sister against you? For wanting to wipe out the last traces of a woman who betrayed me?" He shook his head. "No. I'm not sorry. She made her choice. She chose love over family. Love over loyalty. She paid for it. You're still paying for it. That's how blood works." I stood. My legs were steady. That surprised me. "I'm nothing like you," I said. "No. You're like her. Stubborn. Idealistic. Willing to die for love."