"You've lost enough."
Those words surprised Gabbie almost as much, as when she heard the paramedics pronounce Katy and her family dead at the scene. And then she froze, her bowed form trembling on the cold tile while tears blurred the smoke outline curling from Riven's silhouette.
Behind the one-way glass, the detective watched, his breath fogging the pane, heart pounding in sync with the questions ricocheting through his skull.
Is he in shock? This looks like a shock response—hell, the kid's half-dissolved into smoke. Did he kill them on purpose, some royal power play gone public? Or was it an accident, the same freak mishap that turned his crimson hair ash and his eyes to fog? Royals don't just... unravel like this. What the hell happened to him?
Riven stirred then, unfolding from the floor with unnatural fluidity, like smoke coalescing into form. He rose, gray hair falling like a veil, and turned toward the door—casual, as if the interrogation, the assault, and the confession were all behind him now. His hand reached for the handle.
"No—" Gabbie lunged, fingers clamping around his ankle like a vice, yanking him back. The detective jolted behind the glass, eyes widening in disbelief.
What the fuck is she doing? Get off him!
"Why?" Gabbie's voice cracked through a storm of sobs and fury, her grip iron despite her shaking. "Why kill Katy? Why your family? They loved you!"
Silence fell after this and then stretched, thick as the drifting haze. Riven paused, looking down at her—those smoky eyes unreadable, fixed on her tear-streaked face.
"Why would you kill them?" she pressed, voice rising, nails digging into his leg through the ethereal fog that was his skin. "Was it for this power? They loved you—despite everything you did, the bullying, the cruelty—they still loved you!"
In a blink, the older detective teleported into the room in a sharp green flash, sparks of magic crackling in the air. He grabbed Gabbie's shoulder, hauling her back.
"Shut up, Gabby! Riven, you can go—please, you're free to leave." His voice dripped apologies as he bowed his head slightly to the royal.
We need to take advantage while he's in shock. Get him out before he snaps—or worse, calls enforcers. What the fuck is she doing? She's going to get us all killed!
But Gabbie thrashed against him, eyes wild, grief overriding fear. "No! I don't care—I can't do anything to you, fine! But I need to know why! Why did you kill them?"
Riven turned slowly, his opaque form flickering at the edges. The room grew colder. But before he could say a single word, the whole room temperature shot up dramatically, but he ignored it, and so did they.
"You shouldn't let your personal feelings about the victims cloud your judgment," he told her simply, completely disregarding her question. "It will be useful to you in a situation where you can actually do something."
"But to answer your question, why did I kill my family?" he quizzed, causing the detective's and Gabbie's breaths to hold almost simultaneously with each other.
Then for the first time that night he smirked, but his eyes didn't match in glee; they remained dead like fish as he continued, "Isn't it obvious I'm a Failed Royal?"
These words shocked both of them to their very core. Even the utterance of those words was considered taboo and could have you subject to harsh punishment or death. Under normal circumstances, no one would dare whisper that in the presence of Royalty.
Because a Failed Royal means... A Royal who's been possessed by a spirit and is no longer stirring their limbs but a puppet to a higher power and the rules that came with it.
But before anyone could make a single move.
BOOOOOOOM.
The explosion rang out beside them in a blinding flash of light, completely eviscerating the wall and sending the detective and Gabbie tumbling to the ground. The detective sheltered her with his body, taking the brunt of the rumble that was sent flying at them.
"How dare you, filthy dogs, touch him?!" a booming voice said as the sound of rubble being crushed under boots was heard.
Upon hearing the voice, a cold shiver of pure terror crawled down her spine as every instinct told her to run, but the detective with his heavy frame was on top of her, blood dripping from his head. His body had gone limp.
"You damned mongrels don't know your place," the voice continued to boom in an authoritarian tone as the footsteps drew nearer.
I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. Her inner voice screamed at her as chaotic images of severed heads, blood, laughter, and weeping played in her mind.
But just as she was about to summon the strength to run, the weight of the detective pressed on her, hitting her with remembrance.
"I can't leave him here," she muttered, that thought overshadowing any other.
I have to get him out of here—how? How am I supposed to save him or even escape? He's here; he's one of the Great seven. I barely stand a chance of escaping on my own, let alone with him on my back.
"But I still can't leave him here; he'll be killed, and his kids, wife, mother, and siblings and their families," she said as all their faces flashed through her mind.
The thought made her start crying again. It's all my fault; if I hadn't insisted on this interrogation, their lives wouldn't be at risk.
"And Julius," she croaked out as the sobs got heavier. "My baby boy."
She continued to sob as the footsteps got closer, and she could feel the heat burning the parts of her body that weren't being covered by her partner.
"Please stop!" she begged, knowing that if it was burning her, then it was cooking him.
"Please stop!" she shouted this time as she felt her partner's body start to heat up and watched helplessly as the skin and flesh of his arms started to burn away.
"Please stop; it's my fault!" she shouted, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
Then she heard it. In almost a whisper was the detective's voice. "Run...run, Gabbie."
This made her eyes widen before the tears fell harder. "I'm sorry, I can't—" she stuttered through choked sobs.
"I can't feel my legs," she muttered, while, unbeknownst to her, a length of rebar managed to pierce through the detective and into her back.
But then, as she closed her eyes for what she assumed would be the final time, she suddenly felt the heat disappear as if it were never there.
Opening her eyes, she looked to see Riven a few feet in front of them with his hand raised. All the smoke that was fogging up the room gathered up in a swirl and then condensed in a haze around his grandfather's head.
Now on his knees, the old man's eyes began bulging; he coughed violently and began scratching at his throat, leaving deep lacerations with his nails.
But what shocked her the most were the words that left his mouth.
"I said she has lost enough."