Chapter Three: Shadows and Promises
The storm outside raged harder, rain hammering against the tall windows as Elena steadied herself against the cold armrest of the chaise. The scent of damp wood and old stone filled the room, wrapping around her like a shroud.
Lucien's eyes never left her.
"That vow…" Elena repeated, voice barely above a whisper. "Why keep it now? When your kind doesn't hesitate to kill?"
He smiled, but it was a sad, haunted thing. "Because I remember what I once was. And what I lost."
She wanted to ask more—wanted to reach past the enigmatic mask he wore—but the sound of a distant howl cut through the storm, raw and chilling. Elena's heart jumped.
Lucien's expression darkened. "They're here."
"Elena," he said, his voice dropping low, urgent. "You can't stay. If you do, they will come for you—and for me."
She swallowed hard. "Then where do I go?"
"Somewhere safe. Somewhere far from this city." He hesitated, then added, "I'll take you there."
For a moment, Elena hesitated—torn between fleeing and fighting. Then she nodded, steeling herself.
"I'm not running anymore."
Lucien extended his hand. It was pale and cold, but there was a strange warmth beneath the surface—like a pulse, alive and real.
Her fingers closed around his.
In that instant, the world seemed to tilt—the weight of the night pressing down like a living thing.
"Hold on," Lucien murmured.
Before Elena could ask, he vanished—pulled into the shadows like smoke.
She gasped, then found herself standing alone in the empty hall, the storm still howling outside, and her pulse thrumming with something new: fear, yes—but also something darker. Something wild and dangerous.
The hunt had begun.