The silver charm bracelet felt like a brand against her palm. Every time the tiny violin charm clinked against her skin, Charlène saw Leo's face—pale, fragile, and counting on a sister who was currently trapped in a house that felt more like a prison.
He was alive. He had to be. Viktor wouldn't send proof otherwise. He needed leverage. He needed her desperate.
She couldn't wait for the 24-hour clock to run out. She couldn't wait for Lucien's plans or his security details. She moved alone; that was the only way she knew how to survive.
She didn't knock.
She shoved the doors to Lucien's study open, her pulse uneven, her thoughts louder than reason.
He was already there.
Of course he was.
Standing behind his desk like he owned the air itself, sleeves rolled, eyes dark and unreadable.
"Give me the key, Lucien," she said.
No greeting. No hesitation.
His gaze dragged over her slowly, assessing, calculating.
"You said you wouldn't run."
Her jaw tightened. "I said I wouldn't leave without a reason."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping.
"Now I have one."
"I need to go. I'll find him. I won't try to escape your estate—I just need to find the drop point."
She expected a fight. She expected him to lock her up or pin her against the marble until she submitted. Instead, Lucien looked at her with an expression she couldn't decipher—a mixture of exhaustion and a strange, flickering intensity.
"You think you can find him alone?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.
"I have to."
Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the blackened-gold key. He held it out, his fingers brushing hers. She was stunned by how easily he let go. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she snatched it, not waiting for him to change his mind.
She ran towards the door.
She shoved the key into the lock.
She didn't know where Viktor was.
Didn't know where he was keeping Leo.
Didn't know anything—
Except his face.
She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, forcing the image into her mind.
Take me to him.
She twisted the key.
For a heartbeat—
Nothing happened.
Then—
A sound like tearing fabric echoed. Instead of a path to the city, the air in front of the door began to ripple. A raw hole tore open, revealing a vacuum of absolute, terrifying nothingness. The darkness began to howl, pulling at the rugs, the curtains, and her soul.
"Charlène!"
She felt herself being dragged toward the void. Her feet left the floor. Just as the darkness was about to swallow her, a hand clamped around her waist.
Lucien hauled her back, slamming her against his chest as the rift snapped shut with a thunderous crack.
She gasped for air, but the air was scorching. Her back was pressed against his shirt, and it felt like leaning against a furnace.
"You're… you're burning," she choked out, trying to twist away.
His skin wasn't just hot; it felt like molten metal beneath his clothes. She looked down at his hand on her waist. The veins were turning a deep, obsidian black, pulsing with heat. Lucien didn't pull away. He stared at his own hands, his eyes wide and flooded with a terrifying, amber light.
"What is happening?" he whispered.
...…
An hour later, the urgency had taken over. They had to move. Lucien drove the black SUV himself, his grip on the steering wheel so tight the material began to crack.
They reached the drop point—an abandoned warehouse near the docks.
"Stay close," Lucien ordered.
They stepped inside, and she immediately felt the pressure in the air. The warehouse was empty, but it wasn't quiet. It felt heavy with a leftover terror.
"Viktor?" she called out, her voice echoing. No answer.
She walked toward a velvet armchair that sat in the middle of the grime. The fabric was destroyed. Not by a knife or a tool—but by something that had left four deep, parallel marks. It looked like the work of a massive claw.
"Lucien, look at this," she said, her hand trembling as she touched the ruined material. "This looks like an a..animal claws."
Lucien didn't answer. He was standing in the center of the room, his head tilted. He began to growl—a low vibration that started deep in his chest. It wasn't human.
"Lucien?"
His vision shifted. For a minute, it seemed as though his pupils expanded until the hazel disappeared, replaced by a glowing heat. To her, the room was grey and dusty. To him, it was something else entirely—like the room had turned into a map only he could read.
"I can see it," he said, his voice vibrating in her bones.
He began to move, tracking a scent she couldn't smell. He bypassed the cameras and the desks. He followed a glowing trail that only he could see—a path of blue heat that led toward a door at the back.
"Where is Leo? Lucien, focus! Is he here?" she scrambled after him, but he was moving with a fluid, frightening grace.
What the hell was going on? Had Lucien finally lost it?
He ignored her. The smell was too strong.
Lucien stopped in front of the door. code. He raised his hand. She saw the black veins on his skin.
"L..lucien y..your hand," she took two steps back.
"I can smell him, Charlène," he said, his voice a deep rasp. "I can smell your brother's fear. But I don't know how I'm doing it."