Morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the expensive furnishings of the room, waking a slender girl, her eyes still heavy from sleep slowly came alive. Her long black hair spilled across her face, she had no clothes on and barely covered up, as she stretched, yawning deeply. For a moment, she looked like any other young woman waking up to a quiet morning.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, her face finally visible. Her almond-shaped eyes were fringed with light lashes—that screamed elegance. The deep brown color was rich and inviting, like a perfectly brewed cup of cocoa on a winter morning.

  She stood and made her way to the bathroom, minutes later, she stood before the mirror. She had changed into a slender black gown, the fabric hugging her frame with a sharp slit up the left side. As she adjusted the dress, she caught her own reflection and smiled softly at what she wore, reflecting on what happened the night before.

  The carnage. The screams. The rhythmic torture. It had all been her doing.

  A sinister grin spread across her face, her brown eyes darkening to an unsettling, shade. "Wow," she whispered to her reflection. "You have outdone yourself again. Kimona"

  Returning to the bedroom, Kimona rummaged through a drawer until her fingers found a specific photograph, a sly smile spread across her face.

  Seated back on the bed. "Asher Knight," she murmured. "I’m sorry, but your time just had to come."

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  A sharp knock at the door shattered the silence.

  Kimona’s expression flipped instantly. The predator vanished, replaced by a mask of startled innocence. She frantically hid the photo. "You can come in!"

  The door opened slowly. Her mother stood there, dressed in a long, black button-up gown with a matching hat that made her skin look deathly pale. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days.

  "If you're ready, we can go," her mother said, a hint of worry trembling in her voice.

  Kimona offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Okay. I'll be right down, Mom."

  Her mother gave a weak, tired nod before exiting the room. Kimona took a deep breath, then padded downstairs, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps.

  She stepped out into the morning light, where the car engine was already purring in the driveway.

  The funeral was a sea of black.

  As Kimona stepped out of the car, her eyes sparkled with a hidden amusement. She gazed out at the mourners, feeling a thrill of satisfaction. To witness this spectacle—the tears, the wailing, the futile words of condolence—it was better than she had imagined.

  It was all just a show. And she was happy to had orchestrated it.

  Suddenly, her mother’s eyes met hers. For a terrifying second, Kimona felt exposed, as if her mother could see right through the deception and into the dark void that had swallowed her soul.

  Then, her mother’s expression softened. She gave a subtle, grieving nod and looked away.

  Kimona exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. For a second, kimona thought she knew. Nah, she made sure everything was perfect, even her expression was perfectly summarized for this day. Her smile grew wider, she felt no guilt, no remorse—only a cold, soaring sense of pride.

  When the final farewells forever were over and the crowd began to thin, Kimona remained behind. She stood alone, staring down at the casket with a look of calm finality.

  "Goodbye, Knight family."