Kat took another deep breath and poised herself for the next part.

“One day, our family came back to find the inside of our house turned upside down. Like it had been ransacked. We thought someone had broken in and heard noises upstairs. We went upstairs, expecting an intruder, but instead, we found Millie in her room, going through every cabinet and drawer. When she saw us, she screamed, ‘Where are they?! Where did you hide them?!’ When we asked what she meant, she said, ‘My meds, where did you hide my meds?!’ All of us claimed that we didn’t touch any of her medications. I saw the empty medication bottles scattered around her room, and said she must’ve used them all up herself. She called me a ‘liar’ and that we wanted to make her suffer ‘just like the clan head.' She then started turning aggressive towards me. My father moved in front to stand between me and Millie, and my mother and Adrian tried to grab her in case she tried to hurt me. Millie is usually fast enough to dodge them, but the withdrawal effects slowed her down.”

Kat gritted her teeth as she exhaled the next set of words.

“When they grabbed Millie, she started to scream, as if she was in pain. It was the most horrific scream I’ve ever heard. It’s as if touching her was actually killing her. She started to thrash out, punching and kicking my mother and brother. She didn’t stop until she passed out from my mother’s chokehold. I’ve rarely seen my mother cry. She’s the strongest Takagi of her generation, but a stream of tears wouldn’t stop coming down her face when she had to put her arms around Millie’s neck.”

Rudy sat there in stunned silence at Kat’s story.

“D-did you figure out what was making her like this? This doesn’t sound like a simple addiction,” Rudy anxiously asked.

“We took her to the ER afterward, while she was still unconscious. We told them that she was going through extreme opioid withdrawal symptoms and that she was a danger to herself and others. We tried to convince the medical staff to strap her down before she woke up. There was a psychiatrist there, who told us that it wasn’t necessary. She told us that she would administer sedatives that would calm Millie down. We urged the psychiatrist to strap Millie down in case she tried to harm her, but the psychiatrist said she didn’t want Millie to feel like a prisoner. We trusted her judgment, and luckily, she was right. Millie was calmed enough by the sedatives when she woke up. She even began to cry when she saw my face, sobbing and apologizing for what she’s done.”

“I can see why you’re a psychiatrist now. She did the right thing,” agreed Rudy.

“Yes, she was an amazing psychiatrist. She was constantly checking up on Millie during her recovery and always responded to our calls and questions. She told us that Millie had developed an extreme sensitization to pain, but she still could not figure out why, even with an extensive workup in the hospital. She told us Millie was stable enough to be discharged, but had to be closely monitored and put on medications to reduce her cravings and withdrawal symptoms. She would have a follow-up appointment a month later, where they would check on her recovery and perform further testing to figure out the cause behind her pain sensitization. The medications were helping, and Millie was getting better. Even her old smile came back.”

Kat sucked in her breath again before continuing.

“On the day of that follow-up appointment, I went to get Millie in her room.”

Kat scrunched her face, fighting the urge to cry.

“That’s when I found her lying on the floor—unresponsive—no breathing. I called for help as I performed CPR. I don’t know how long I was doing that for. I didn’t stop until the paramedics pulled me off. They checked her pulse and told me that she was dead— that there was nothing else I could do. I yelled at them, telling them I could still save her. This time, I was the one being held back by my mother and brother—to keep me from fighting with the paramedics.”

Kat let out a deep breath and slumped back in the chair.

Rudy stared at Kat, aghast.

“C-can I ask how she died? I thought the medications were helping her withdrawal symptoms? I thought she was getting better?!” Rudy asked with vested concern.

“The medications were helping. She was getting better. But what I saw next to her body was a small paper package with the symbol of a feathered serpent on it. Inside was some type of substance. I had the paramedics take it with them for the autopsy. The coroner confirmed that Millie died from a lethal fentanyl overdose.”

“That’s the symbol of El Quetzalcōātl, the org of the Third Finger! How could you continue to take orders from the council seated by him?!”

“We don’t have a choice as Takagis,” bit Kat, her eyes fizzling with resentment. “We are bound by the Devil’s Hand to do their bidding. It’s the only way we’ve survived as a clan. The Underworld would finish us off otherwise, just like they tried 100 years ago. I would have killed that bastard wearing the Third Finger’s ring long ago otherwise. Even my patients are the victims of his drug empire. If he never existed, none of this would have ever happened, and Millie would still be alive. He's the source of all this suffering. Maybe I should finish him off now, once and for all.”

Kat looked out the window, eyes locked on something far away in the darkness.

“What’s another dead Finger... and a second rogue Takagi to add to the list?”

Rudy’s eyes flicked to Kat’s nails as they clawed into the wooden chair.

“Kat, that would put the rest of your family in even more danger. Millie’s death wasn’t your fault. You can’t let yourself go mad over revenge like that.”

“You of all people should understand me, Rudy!” Kat hissed. "Knowing that you could’ve saved the person you loved by putting a bullet in someone else’s skull first."

Rudy gritted her canines—she had no response to Kat’s answer. She lowered her gaze to her wine-red nails, thinking about her mother.