Athena had to repeat her question again before Matthew deemed it necessary to give her a response.
"She was going to talk, so I had to take care of it. I won’t lose on both ends," he said, smiling as he spoke.
Athena stared at him, disbelief flickering across her face. How had she missed it—that he was the most psychotic of the duo?
She had always thought Mary was the outspoken one, the name that appeared in the news during every successful research, the visible brain of their monstrous partnership. Naturally, she had concluded that Mary was the pioneering force of their evil twinship.
But she could see now that she had been wrong again.
He looked devilish, Athena thought, clutching her gun tighter. Not the kind of "devilish" authors used to describe dangerously gorgeous men—no, just plain devilish. Reeking of evil and rot.
"You’re going to kill your sister?" Athena breathed out, her voice shaking as her gaze darted to Mary, who had fallen from the stool into a heap on the floor, coughing blood. "Your twin sister? Because of what? Because she might tell the truth? Are you crazy?"
The unnecessary last question hung in the air—because the male doctor was clearly more than crazy.
He confirmed this by chuckling, barely hiding the twist in his expression as though pain was lacing through some part of his body. Athena felt chills crawl down her spine when she realized what was happening.
"You were going to commit suicide," she whispered, voice trembling as her eyes widened, "and so involved her without her knowledge—knowing that she wouldn’t go for it."
She tried to move toward Mary, who looked up at her pleadingly, her expression tired and resigned; looking done with being surprised by her brother’s wicked acts; looking done with life.
Ewan reached out instinctively and held Athena’s arm, keeping her back just as Matthew coughed out blood while trying to talk.
"Don’t bother," Matthew rasped, blood dribbling down his chin. "She is already a dead woman."
Athena turned to Ewan, her breath catching. He saw the stubborn determination in her eyes and released her arm, knowing she was hell-bent on trying to save Mary.
Ignoring Matthew’s now maniacal laughter, Athena strode carefully toward the fallen woman, her hand steady on her gun in case the lunatic decided to make one last attack. She crouched, pressing her thumb gently against Mary’s neck.
Her heart sank when she felt almost nothing. Exhaling weakly, she realized Matthew had been right—and she could already smell the faint metallic tang of the poison used in the same vein. They wouldn’t be able to get Mary out of here alive.
"I’m... sorry..." Mary muttered, swallowing thickly, painfully.
Athena nodded slowly, wishing—aching—that there was some way she could save her.
"My daughter..." Blood slid from the corner of Mary’s lips as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
Athena’s pity welled up like a storm. How could a brother do this?
"I will make sure she is taken care of," Athena murmured, voice soft but sure, as Mary’s eyes fluttered shut and the woman exhaled one final breath.
Athena shut her eyes and sighed audibly, sadness tightening her chest. She rose slowly to her feet, turning toward Matthew, who was gripping the edge of the table for balance as the poison tore through him.
His earlier laughter had subsided into labored, wet breaths.
"Are you happy now?" she asked quietly.
He shrugged—or tried to—but it came out as a spasm, interrupted by spurts of coughing.
Athena instinctively stepped back, maintaining her distance so his blood wouldn’t touch her. One could never tell with that idiot.
"It needed to be done," he rasped. "If I didn’t do it, he would."
Athena frowned. "Who is he? Kael?"
And before jack could be said, he snatched a knife from beside the table—a blade Athena hadn’t even noticed—and in one swift motion, drove it into his own neck.

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