The knife trembled in Nathalie's grip, her breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps as she pressed the blade against my throat. Her eyes were wide, wild with fear and desperation, but her voice was fierce, trembling with the weight of her words.

"I'll kill you," she hissed, her knuckles white, her body shaking with the effort to keep her hand steady.

I chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling through my chest. Beside me, Angela let out a soft, mocking laugh, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

They both knew the truth—nothing Nathalie did could hurt me. Tyler's voice cut through the tension, raw and shattered. "Mother... no..." His sobs filled the room, his body straining against the bed, his face twisted in agony as he watched the scene unfold.

I looked at Nathalie, my gaze unflinching, my voice a velvety taunt. "Why don't you try?"

Her breath hitched, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. She thought she had the upper hand, thought she could control this moment. But she was wrong.

Before she could react, I reached up and wrapped my hand around her wrist, my grip firm but not painful. She tensed, expecting me to wrench the knife away, to disarm her and leave her helpless.

But I didn't.

Instead, I held her hand in place, my fingers guiding hers as I slowly, deliberately pushed the blade closer to my throat.

Nathalie's eyes widened in horror, her voice breaking as she realized what was happening. "Don't—" she screamed, her body jerking as she tried to pull away, but my grip was ironclad. "Don't! I don't want to—!"

The knife pressed against my skin, the sharp edge biting into my flesh, but still not leaving a mark.

Nathalie's breath came in frantic gasps, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at my neck. "Stop! Please!" she begged, her voice cracking, her body trembling violently.

Angela's laughter echoed through the room, cold and triumphant, her crimson lips curling into a smirk as she watched Nathalie's humiliation unfold.

"Oh, this is priceless," she purred, her voice dripping with sadistic delight, her fingers tracing the edge of the knife still clutched in Nathalie's trembling hand. "Look at her, Dexter. She thinks she's a killer, but she doesn't even have the stomach for it."

Nathalie's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes flickering with a mix of shame and fury. She turned her gaze to Tyler, her son's face twisted in agony, his sobs filling the room like a broken record. Something inside her snapped.

With a sudden, desperate cry, she wrenched the knife from Angela's loose grip and spun toward me, her arm flashing out in a wild, angry arc. The blade aimed straight for my stomach; her face contorted with rage. "You monster!" she screamed, her voice raw with hatred.

But the knife never sank into my flesh.

Instead, the blade scraped against my skin, the metal screeching as if it had struck stone, leaving nothing but a faint, silver line where it should have plunged deep. Nathalie's eyes widened in horror, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbled back, her body shaking violently.

"How... how is this possible?" she whispered, her voice trembling, her fingers still clenched around the knife's hilt. "What are you? You're not human... you're—" Her voice broke, her face pale with terror. "You're a devil."

I chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling through my chest like thunder. My fingers wrapped around her wrist, not to stop her, but to pull her closer, my grip unyielding. "Clever girl," I murmured, my voice a velvety taunt, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"But did you really think a little knife could hurt me?" My free hand slid up her arm, my fingers tangling in her damp hair, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to meet my gaze. "I'm so much more than human, Nathalie. And you? You're about to find out just how deep that truth goes."

Angela's laughter filled the room again, sharp and mocking. "Oh, this just keeps getting better," she purred, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Look at her, Dexter. She finally realizes what she's up against."

She reached out, her fingers tracing the line the knife had left on my skin, her touch deliberate. "And yet, here she stands, still breathing. Still fighting." Her voice dropped to a whisper, her lips curling into a smirk. "Still useless."

Nathalie's breath came in short, panicked gasps, her body trembling as she stared at me, her eyes wide with terror. "What do you want from me?" she choked out, her voice breaking, the knife slipping from her fingers to clatter to the floor.

The knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clink, the sound sharp in the heavy silence of the room. Angela's laughter was a cold, mocking melody, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the blade as she wrenched it from Nathalie's shaking grip.

"Even if you had the chance, you couldn't do anything to Dexter," she sneered, her voice dripping with sadistic delight, her crimson-painted lips curling into a smirk. "As a punishment..."

With a swift, brutal motion, Angela slashed downward, the blade slicing through the flimsy fabric of Nathalie's nightie like it was nothing. The sheer black silk split open with a tearing sound, the remnants slithering to the floor in tattered strips, leaving Nathalie standing there in nothing but a scrap of lace bra and panties so thin they might as well have been invisible.

Nathalie let out a choked, humiliated gasp, her face flushing a deep, furious crimson. "You bitch!" she snarled, her voice trembling with rage and shame as she stumbled back, her hands flying up to cover herself.

"How dare you—!" Her breath hitched as she realized just how exposed she was, her arms crossing over her chest in a futile attempt to shield her heavy, trembling breasts, her other hand darting down to cover her pussy, her fingers pressing desperately against the damp lace of her panties.

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