Hold on. Hold on, his sister had said. The words repeated in Theo’s mind like a prayer, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. Lucian knew how to break people—he was an expert at it—and Theo was no exception.

He paced the length of his cell, his body hollow with hunger. It gnawed at him, relentless, but that was far from the worst of it. The true torment wasn’t physical—it was knowing that every moment of resistance brought him closer to betraying the only person he had left.

All you have to do is ask.

Lucian’s voice rang out in his head, the same words he'd spoken when he brought the thrall down to him. But there had been a cost. Isabell had stood there, silent and resigned. Lucian’s eyes had lingered on her, his intentions clear. The promise of violence in his voice had twisted something deep inside Theo, making his stomach churn.

That was the brilliance of Lucian’s game. He would show Theo who was in control by having him betray his own sister. His pride could only hold for so long, eventually the hunger would win.

Theo clenched his fists, pressing his knuckles into the stone. He could feel it even now—the edges of his willpower fraying. Lucian knew it, too. That was the cruelty of it. Lucian wasn’t just testing his resolve; he was torturing him with the inevitable. The cruelty wasn’t in the hunger itself—it was in knowing that the only family Theo had left would pay for his weakness.

The message was clear: learn to obey, or suffer.

Rage bubbled up inside him, his fist slamming against the wall in a futile burst of anger.

“That sadistic son of a bitch,” Theo muttered, his voice rough with frustration. He leaned his forehead against the wall, the chill a poor substitute for the clarity he needed.

This was all His fault he thought. God created these monsters. He had condemned his own creations and then had the nerve to have them beg for his forgiveness.

Lucian was right about one thing. Arthur was a fool for seeking redemption. He thought bitterly.

Just then a sound pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

Isabell had returned.

“Theo, it’s almost time. Lucian’s leaving in the next hour, and that’s when you need to go.”

His heart twisted at the sight of her, at the thought of leaving her behind. He couldn’t bear what Lucian might do once he found out, but staying here, locked in this cell, wasn’t saving her either.

“How?” he asked, though the word felt hollow in his throat.

“Arthur,” Isabell said quietly, stepping closer. “He can’t get close to the estate without Lucian knowing, but he’s been working on the guards. He’s managed to influence a few of them. In an hours time, a guard will slip in and let you out.”

Theo’s jaw tightened, frustration and helplessness swelling inside him.

“And you?” Theo asked, though he already knew the answer.

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Isabell’s expression softened for a moment, but there was no fear in her eyes, only a painful acceptance. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “You need to go, Theo. You staying here isn’t helping me. If you escape, you have a chance to stop him. That’s the only way.”

Theo shook his head, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He wanted to protect her, to get her out of here, but he couldn’t. Not now. Lucian’s hold on her was too strong.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, guilt choking his voice.

“You have to,” Isabell said, her voice firm but kind. “You need to find Elena and the artifact. Lucian’s already hunting her, and if he finds her first…”

Her words trailed off, but the meaning was clear. Elena had no idea what kind of danger she was in. She didn’t know Lucian, didn’t know the depths of his cruelty. Theo had to reach her before Lucian or Celeste did. He had to protect her, even if it meant leaving Isabell behind—for now.

He swallowed hard, looking into his sister’s eyes, the weight of everything crashing down on him. He couldn’t save her from Lucian’s control, but he could save Elena.

“I promise,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “ I’ll stop him.”

Isabell nodded, her gaze fierce.

“Take these.” She handed him a small slip of paper and a flask. Her eyes lingered on the flask in his hand for a moment.

“I know it’s not much, but it’ll help,” she said softly. “I have to go, but remember—when the guard comes, move fast. Arthur’s influence won’t last long.”

She paused, staring at him, as if there was more she wanted to say. But after a brief, weighted silence, she turned and left.

Theo stood there for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on him like a vise. His thoughts shifted to Elena—her face, her scent, the danger that was closing in around her. He couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not now. Time was slipping away, and he had to get to her first.

********

Elena sat by the window in David's house staring at the message, the one that had been sitting in her inbox for days. Let’s meet. She had read those words over and over, never quite finding the courage to respond. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? A chance to get answers, to confront Theo about everything that had happened. But each time she thought about it, something pulled her back—something darker than just fear of what he was.

She was scared, yes. But it wasn’t just fear of him. It was fear of herself. Fear of what it meant that she still wanted to see him, even after what had nearly happened between them.

What does it say about me? She thought. The memory of his breath against her neck sent an involuntary shiver down her spine, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin.

She shook her head, trying to push the thought away, but it kept circling back. The darkness that had begun to surround her life—her thoughts, her feelings—it was suffocating. She wasn’t even sure what was real anymore, or how to separate the danger from the strange pull she felt toward him.

Elena exhaled slowly, her eyes drifting back to the message on the screen. She had wanted this, hadn’t she? The chance to understand, to get answers. But now that it was here, she hesitated. What was she really afraid of? The truth about Theo? Or the truth about what she felt for him?

The answer gnawed at her, refusing to settle.

Her thumb hovered over the screen again. How many times had she nearly responded, only to delete the message and leave it unresolved? She had to make a decision. She couldn’t avoid it forever, no matter how much she wanted to. It was time to face whatever this was.

With a deep breath, she finally typed her reply. Tonight. 6 pm at Harper’s Café.

She stared at the words for a long moment, her heart pounding in her chest. There was still time to change her mind, to erase the message and walk away from all of it. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Not really.

She hit send.

The message was gone, and with it, any chance of turning back. She was going to see him tonight. The thought sent another shiver down her spine, though she couldn’t tell if it was from anticipation or fear. Maybe it was both.

Whatever it was, she would face it tonight.