All Chapters of Reborn: Make Them Pay: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The hospital is too quiet. Not silent. Never silent. There’s always something; the steady rhythm of machines, the distant echo of footsteps, muted voices bleeding through walls. But it’s controlled. Contained. Nothing like the chaos from earlier. Nothing like the darkness. Nothing like him.Callum lies in front of me, pale against the white sheets, the harsh overhead lighting making him look younger than he is. Smaller. Sixteen feels too young like this. Too fragile. Wires run from his chest to the monitor beside him, each soft beep anchoring me, reminding me he’s still here. A bandage wraps around the side of his head, too stark, too clinical, covering the damage I can’t stop seeing.I sit beside him, my hand wrapped around his. I haven’t let go. Not once.His fingers twitch faintly under mine, a small movement, barely there, but enough to make my chest tighten.“Callum?”His eyes don’t open. But he shifts. Just slightly.That’s

For a moment, no one moves. Carter’s words linger in the air, dry and deliberate, cutting through everything like none of it matters. I exhale slowly. Of course. Of course this is how this goes.“It’s nothing,” I say, brushing it off as I step further into the room. “You’ll all be fine.”“Right,” Carter replies, leaning back slightly against the pillows, wincing just enough to acknowledge it. “Because this feels like a perfectly normal Tuesday.”A quiet groan comes from the bed beside him.“What happened?” Cole mutters, dragging a hand down his face.“Apparently,” Carter says, “we’ve all decided to experiment with poisoning as a family bonding exercise.”“Not funny,” Cian mutters.“It’s a little funny.”Another shift, slower this time. My father exhales, steady but controlled, eyes opening fully as he takes in the room. Relief tightens in my chest again. Seeing it is different.“Well,” Carter says, glan

Two weeks. The rest of my family were discharged a week ago. And Callum is still here. That alone tells me enough. Not precautionary. Not routine. Wrong. The room hums with quiet machinery, steady and controlled, the kind of silence that feels like it’s holding something back. Callum looks smaller like this, too still, too pale, the bandaging gone but the damage still there. He got the worst of it. I don’t hesitate. I move straight to him.“Callum.”His eyes are open, but slow to find me. Too slow. When they finally do, something in my chest tightens.“Hey.”The word is thin. Weaker than before.“Hey.”I sit beside him, closer than I should be, like distance might make it worse.“How long have you been awake?”He frowns faintly.“I don’t… know.”A pause.“They said something.”His voice drifts, like he loses it halfway through.“And how do you feel?”Another pause. Longer.“Wrong.”That lands harder than anything else.“Wrong how?”He swallows.“Like… I’m here.”A beat.“But not… full

The distance between us disappears. One second I’m standing, the next I’m on her. The impact knocks the breath out of her, her back hitting the floor hard enough to echo through the penthouse. My hand fists in her hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to look at me.“Say it.”She winces, fingers clawing at my wrist.“What—”“Say it.”My grip tightens.“What you did.”Her eyes flash, something sharp, something almost amused.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Rage hits, clean and immediate. My hand pulls harder.“Callum.”Her expression flickers for a second.“Crowbar,” I say, quieter now.Her lips part.Then she smiles.Small.Crooked.Wrong.“He was in the way.”Everything narrows. My other hand lifts.A sharp crack follows. Not loud, not dramatic, just enough.The world tilts.Then disappears.When I wake, it is slow. Pain comes first, dull and heavy, wrapping around my head and settling behind my eyes. My body feels distant, like it belongs somewhere else. I stay still be

The corridor outside my room is quieter than it should be. Private floors always are. Carpeted, muted, insulated from the rest of the hospital as if money can soften reality. The lighting is warmer here, but the scent of antiseptic still lingers beneath it. Clean. Controlled. Temporary.Callum is one door down.Of course he is.Azriel never said it outright, but he did not need to. Influence moves things without announcement. Rooms shift. Access changes. People look the other way.I stop outside the door for a moment, my hand resting against the handle. The last image I have of Callum presses forward. Still. Pale. Machines doing the work his body could not.Then I push the door open.The room is dimmer than mine. The blinds are partially drawn, sunlight softened into something almost calm. The machines hum low and steady. Callum lies in the bed, his breathing more natural now, the tension in his body eased.And then I see him.Dr Li.He stands at Callum’s bedside, reviewing a chart li