The summons came unexpectedly late in the night. The vampire escort was silent, his footsteps echoing ominously in the halls as he led Luke through the labyrinthine mansion. The destination, however, was unmistakable: Malric's chambers.

When Luke entered, the room radiated quiet menace. The walls were lined with ancient tomes, their spines gilded with symbols that seemed to shift under the flickering firelight. At the center, behind a massive desk, sat Malric. He exuded a regal calm, his crimson gaze sharp enough to strip away lies.

"Ah, the bold one," Malric said smoothly, motioning for Luke to sit.

Luke obeyed, gripping the edge of his chair to steady himself.

"I understand you've been... restless," Malric began, his voice like velvet over steel. "Such a dangerous quality, restlessness. It can lead to hope, rebellion, even ruin. Tell me, Luke, what is it you hope to gain?"

Luke hesitated, weighing his words. "To leave this place alive," he said finally.

"Alive." Malric let the word linger, his lips curving into a faint smile. "An ambitious goal. And what of those you leave behind? Are they worth sacrificing for your freedom?"

Luke's fists clenched. "If I stay, I'll die. So will they. At least outside, we have a chance."

Malric rose, circling Luke with a predator's grace. "A chance," he echoed, his voice quieter. "And do you understand the weight of what you ask? Freedom is never without cost."

He stopped behind Luke, placing a cold hand on his shoulder. "But perhaps you already know that. Let's see."

A flash of silver caught Luke's eye as Malric drew a slender blade and pricked his wrist. Blood welled up, and Malric dipped his finger into it, bringing it to his lips. His eyes flared with crimson light as he tasted the blood.

"Defiance," Malric murmured, his voice barely audible. "Grief. Pain. And... hope. Such dangerous emotions."

He leaned closer, his voice like a whisper in Luke's ear. "I'll offer you this: my help, but only so far. Your actions are yours alone. And remember, what you think is freedom may bring ruin to others."

Luke turned to meet Malric's gaze, his voice steady. "I'll bear that weight."

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Malric's smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes. "Good. Now go. And tread carefully, Luke. Ripples can become waves."

Jake was summoned under far less ominous circumstances, though his task was no less grim. The head slave handed him a bowl of tepid water and a rag. "Room five. The pet's barely holding together. Clean her up."

When he stepped into the room, the sight stopped him cold. The green-eyed pet sat by the corner of the bed, her hair disheveled and face pale. Her exposed arms bore fresh bruises and welts, a cruel reminder of her place in the mansion. On the mattress behind her lay another woman, her condition far worse.

Jake hesitated, his throat dry. "I—"

"Don't bother," the pet said flatly, her voice brittle. "It's not like anyone cares."

Jake knelt by the other woman, dipping the rag into the water. "What's her name?"

The pet watched him closely, her green eyes hard. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters," Jake said firmly, his voice quiet.

The pet hesitated before replying, "Lexie."

Jake nodded, wiping Lexie's face gently. She groaned softly, her lips moving but no words forming.

The pet crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Have you decided yet?"

Jake glanced at her. "Decided what?"

"On helping us," she said bluntly. "Her and me. We're running out of time."

Jake didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on Lexie's wounds. Finally, he said, "I care about you."

The pet snorted, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. "You don't even know me."

"Then tell me," Jake said, looking up at her.

The pet's eyes narrowed. "Why? So you can pretend we're equals? You think knowing my name will change anything?"

"Maybe," Jake said simply.

For a long moment, she stared at him, her expression unreadable. "Maria," she said finally.

Jake repeated it softly, as if committing it to memory. "Maria."

"Don't say it like it means something," she snapped, though her voice faltered. "Names don't matter here."

Back in the dormitory, Jake paced like a caged animal while Luke sat stiffly on his bunk. The tension between them was palpable.

"She wants us to take Lexie," Jake blurted, stopping abruptly.

Luke's head snapped up, his face darkening. "Absolutely not."

"She's dying," Jake shot back. "We can't just leave her."

"You're asking us to carry dead weight," Luke hissed. "Do you even understand what you're risking?"

"She's not dead weight!" Jake's voice rose, though he quickly lowered it, glancing toward the door. "She's... she's one of us."

"No, she's not," Luke said coldly. "She's a pet. You don't see it because you're too close, but taking her is suicide."

Jake stepped closer, his fists clenched. "You're the one who went to Malric for help. What gives you the right to decide who we leave behind?"

Luke shot to his feet, his voice low and furious. "Because I'm thinking with my head, not my heart! Do you think Malric will save us if we start dragging along every lost cause?"

Jake flinched at the mention of Malric. "What did he say?"

Luke hesitated, then sighed. "He said he'd help. But only so far. He's... testing me, Jake. Testing us. And he made it clear—every action has consequences."

Jake stared at him, his jaw tightening. "And you trust him?"

"No," Luke admitted. "But we don't have a choice."

Jake fell silent, the weight of their predicament settling heavily between them.

From the shadows, a pair of ears listened intently, a sly grin spreading across unseen lips.