It really was Lillian. Natalie let out a dry laugh. Her scumbag father really was useless. He'd bragged so smugly about getting rid of Lillian, said he'd tricked her into her grave. And yet, here she was, alive and kicking. Well ... not kicking exactly. Back when the chaos first broke out, Natalie hadn't gotten a good look. But now that she took a moment to actually see them—Rosalie's body was covered in oozing sores, and Lillian barely had a scrap of clothing on her, bruises painting every inch of her skin. "Alive" wasn't the word. Surviving—just barely. Natalie wrinkled her nose in disgust and glanced at Lucky beside her. "Don't go sniffing around them. They're infected with something nasty." Lucky scrunched her nose and quickly backed away. "Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Ew! I get it! They're gross! Rosalie, now propped up by Lillian, wobbled and blinked, still dazed from the hit. The moment she saw Lucky recoil in disgust, her temper exploded. A dog. A damn dog had the nerve to look disgusted with me? "You filthy mutt! And you—damn you, Natalie!" Rosalie's eyes practically bulged from her skull. "Go to hell! All of you! Just die already!" Everyone else was already gone. The hallway was now empty—except for Natalie, Cassian, Lucky, and the two of them. Natalie rolled her eyes and sneered. "What are you yelling for? Big talk for someone who can't even swing a fist. Come on, do something if you're so pissed." Then she turned to Cassian and said dryly, "Looks like she smacked her head too hard when she fell." Cassian looked down at Rosalie without much interest. Her forehead was dripping blood, and she was still flailing like a rabid animal. "She does seem a little mentally off," he said flatly. Natalie scrunched her nose and pointed at Rosalie. "What the hell even is that? Whatever she's got, it's not airborne, right?" Cassian gave her a serious look. "No idea. Never dealt with someone like her before. Better play it safe." He pulled two gas masks out of his gear and handed one to her. They both put them on. Rosalie saw the way he looked at her, like she was something rotting, and her rage spiked so high she nearly blacked out. Someone like her? What the hell did that mean? Rosalie had always acted like she was above everyone else, practically royalty in her own head. Being looked down on like this, especially by Natalie's man? It was unbearable. She tried to push herself up, fueled by pure fury. But the second she moved, the wound on her shoulder tore wider. Blood gushed out, pouring down her arm. She didn't even seem to feel it, just kept trying to stand, to throw herself at them. Natalie clicked her tongue. "Careful, Cass. She's spraying blood now. God knows what kind of crap's in it." As she spoke, she reached down and strapped a gas mask onto Lucky's face too. Lillian watched Rosalie struggle like a wounded animal, and her heart clenched. She could see it—Natalie and Cassian were deliberately twisting the knife, using the infection to humiliate Rosalie where it hurt most.Lillian couldn't take it anymore. She snapped, "Enough! Stop it! You're hurting her on purpose!" Natalie's mouth pulled into a tight line. She took two steps forward and slammed her boot into Lillian's chest. Lillian flew backward and crashed hard to the floor. "You yelling at me now?" Natalie handed the rifle off to Cassian, then reached into her storage pouch and pulled out a pair of gloves. As she slipped them on, she started walking toward where Lillian had landed. "You seriously think that your ending's gonna be any better than your daughter's?" she said coldly. Natalie might've hated Rosalie, but when it came to Lillian? She despised her. This vicious woman had done more than just wreck her mother's marriage—she'd poisoned her with spiced herbs, no less. Natalie could've killed her 10,000 times and it still wouldn't have been enough to calm the rage boiling in her chest. Rosalie, with her filthy mouth, was nothing more than the byproduct of that woman and her garbage father. Just like them—selfish, vain, jealous, and rotten to the core. But for Natalie, the real threat—the one she needed to eliminate—was Lillian, the woman who murdered her mother. "You haven't forgotten what you did to my mom, have you?" Before Lillian could answer, Natalie swung her fist hard and cracked her right across the mouth, knocking a tooth clean out. Then another punch—straight to the jaw. Her chin twisted with the force. One hit after another, fists landing like thunder. Natalie didn't stop. She didn't want to. Her knuckles burned, sweat poured down her face, but it felt good to land every blow.Cassian didn't say a word. He just turned and casually fired another shot into Rosalie, who had started to crawl again. Their lives clearly belonged to Natalie, so Cassian made sure not to aim for anything vital. He shot Rosalie in the leg instead, just enough to take away her ability to move. As Rosalie screamed in agony, Lillian—now a bloody, broken mess on the ground—suddenly lifted her head, trembling, and slammed it down in a desperate bow. "Natalie ... I'm begging you ... I'm on my knees ... What happened to your mother, Rosalie didn't know anything, I swear. It was all me. Just me. I'll take the punishment. Please ... please let Rosalie go ... She's your ... she's your sister." Natalie paused, breathing hard, wiping sweat from her brow. Then she let out a cold, bitter laugh. "I'm an only child. I don't have a sister." She turned her head and glanced at Rosalie. "Funny, though ... you do seem to care about her."