When Katelyn and Vincent opened the door, they found Sophia bound, her hands suspended from a rack. Her body was streaked with fresh wounds, though none appeared life-threatening. The smell of blood filled the air.
Sophia, her head drooped low, slowly lifted her gaze at the sound of approaching footsteps. Seeing Katelyn, she smirked faintly, her voice laced with mockery. “Katelyn, are you that worried I’ll die? You came so soon.”
Katelyn frowned at the sight of her. “Sophia, there’s no need to do this to yourself. Why don’t you—”
“No!” Sophia interrupted before Katelyn could finish.
Katelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Sophia’s icy interruption sliced through the air between them.
A guttural growl escaped Sophia’s throat, barely above a whisper. The facade of pleasantry melted from Sophia’s features as she fixed her gaze on Katelyn. “Stop playing the saint in front of me. It makes my skin crawl. I’d rather you just end this—end me.”
Raw hatred blazed in her eyes as she glared at Katelyn. The intensity of her loathing was almost tangible, threatening to swallow Katelyn whole.
Bewilderment crossed Katelyn’s features. Since this all began, she’d been at a loss to understand Sophia’s unprovoked hostility. The answer had eluded her from the very beginning. Yet studying Sophia’s current state, she could tell that Sophia didn’t feel like confessing anything.
However, without warning, Sophia’s body began to convulse violently. The sudden spasms tore open her healing wounds, sending fresh crimson streaks down her skin.
Katelyn immediately recognized something was terribly wrong with Sophia’s condition. Her forehead creased with concern as she asked, “Did you take drugs?”
Sophia’s symptoms mimicked drug use, but the onset was unnaturally sudden—lacking the typical gradual progression. If this were typical substance abuse, the symptoms would have manifested more slowly. But this attack had come out of nowhere.
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Even Vincent watched Sophia with mounting alarm. Her full-body tremors and contortions certainly resembled the effects of drugs.
Yet Sophia herself was a master of drugs. Common street drugs held no power over someone of her expertise. For her to display such textbook signs of addiction seemed impossible.
Katelyn stepped closer, examining Sophia with a clinical eye before declaring, “No, this isn’t drug-related!”
When Sophia’s unfocused eyes found Katelyn, her jaw remained clenched so tight it could crack teeth, refusing to respond.
Katelyn studied Sophia intently. Turning to Vincent, she ordered, “Vincent, get me a blood collection kit. We need to test her blood.” Sophia’s condition was deteriorating rapidly. These weren’t the reactions of a healthy person.
Sophia thrashed even more violently at Katelyn’s words. She forced her own words through gritted teeth. “Fuck off! Don’t touch me!”
Katelyn ignored Sophia’s protests, drawing closer with purposeful steps. Her trained eye caught something alarming—Sophia’s blood ran darker and thicker than normal, a telltale sign that something sinister was at work. The abnormality was unmistakable.
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