Chapter 9: Blood Ties
Sylvia pushed open the front door, exhaustion weighing on her limbs. She had barely slept after the intense discussions with the Justice League, her mind racing with possibilities, strategies, and fears. But all of that vanished the moment she stepped inside.
The air was thick with an unnatural silence. Something was wrong.
Her instincts screamed at her, her breath hitching as her senses sharpened. The house smelled off. Stale whiskey. Blood. Her mother's scent was faint, but it was there—alongside something more pungent, something that made every muscle in her body coil with dread. Sabretooth. She rounded the corner into the living room, and her blood ran cold. Her mother lay unconscious on the floor, her auburn hair splayed out over the hardwood, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. And there, sitting in her mother's chair like he owned the place, was Victor Creed. "Sabretooth."
He looked comfortable, legs stretched out, arms draped lazily over the chair's arms, a sickening smirk curling his lips. The golden gleam in his eyes was sharp with amusement as he twirled a whiskey glass in his massive hand, watching her like a predator enjoying the moment before the kill. "Morning, kid," he drawled, lifting the glass in mock greeting. "Figured you'd be back soon." Sylvia's heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself to breathe. Her claws ached to extend, her body tensed to lunge, but she hesitated. One wrong move and he could snap her mother's neck in an instant. "What did you do to her?" she hissed, voice low, controlled. She wouldn't let him see the fear twisting in her gut. Sabretooth sighed, shaking his head. "Now, now, is that any way to talk to your old man? She's fine. Just a little... nap. Didn't want her interfering while we had our family reunion."
His smirk widened as he patted the arm of the chair. "Come, sit. Let's talk." Sylvia didn't move. Her breath was shallow, her fists clenched so tight her nails threatened to break skin. "I have nothing to say to you." "Oh, but I have plenty to say to you," he countered smoothly, his tone laced with something sinister. "See, I've been watching, and I don't like what I see. You're running around with the capes, playing hero, trying to be something you're not." He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "That ain't you, kid. It never was." Sylvia's jaw tightened. "You don't know me." Sabretooth chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly. "Oh, but I do. I know you better than anyone else ever could. You feel it, don't you? That itch under your skin? That fire in your veins? The anger, the hunger? They've got you on a leash, but sooner or later, that leash is gonna snap. And when it does... you'll see that I was right all along."
She gritted her teeth, forcing back the rage clawing its way up her throat. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "You're wasting your time," she spat. "I'm nothing like you."
His smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew. "That's where you're wrong, darlin'. You and me? We're the same. And it's time you stopped pretending otherwise." His golden eyes flickered to Anne's still form before returning to Sylvia's face. "So here's the deal," he said, his voice calm, almost casual. "You come with me, like a proper daughter should, and I walk away. Your mother never has to see me again. Never has to fear me showing up in the middle of the night. She gets to live her nice little life in peace."
His smirk turned razor-sharp. "Or... you refuse, and we see just how much she can take before she breaks."
Sylvia felt her pulse hammering in her ears. The walls felt like they were closing in. She had fought villains, had stood before the most powerful beings in the world—but this? This was different. This was personal. And worse, he knew exactly how to push her, exactly where to sink the blade. She glanced at her mother. Pale. Still. Vulnerable.
Sabretooth sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Tick-tock, kid. I ain't got all day."
Sylvia forced herself to stand straighter, pushing down the overwhelming urge to lash out. She had to be smart. Had to think. He was stronger, more experienced—if she fought now, she wouldn't win. And her mother... Her claws flexed at her sides, but she didn't move. Then, slowly, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with defiance burning in her eyes. "Fine," she said, the word like acid on her tongue. "I'll go with you. But you leave her out of this. You never come near her again."
Sabretooth's smirk stretched into something wider, something triumphant. "Now that's my girl." Sylvia forced herself to hold still as he stood, looming over her, his presence suffocating. He reached out, ruffling her hair like she was some obedient pup, and she barely held back a snarl. "We'll have some fun, you and me," he murmured, low and smug. "Just wait and see."
Sylvia's hands trembled at her sides, rage bubbling beneath her skin, but she kept her voice steady. "Let me say goodbye." Sabretooth arched a brow. "Make it quick." She turned, kneeling beside her mother, brushing a shaking hand over Anne's face. She was breathing. Still warm. That was all that mattered. Her mother had spent years protecting her. Now it was Sylvia's turn. She looked back at Sabretooth, her expression unreadable. "Let's go." He grinned, pleased. "Good choice."
As he led her toward the door, Sylvia's mind raced. She wasn't giving in. She wasn't surrendering.
She was buying time. Because no matter what it took, she was going to make sure Sabretooth never hurt anyone she loved ever again. Even if it meant burning him to the ground.