Chapter 2 002

The storm had passed, but the chapel still moaned with wind like the echoes of ghosts long buried. Evelina tried to sleep. She couldn't. Not with her thoughts clawing at her ribs and the scent of old blood and stone filling her nose.

Lucien hadn't moved from the shadows since bolting the doors shut. He stood still, arms crossed, like a gargoyle carved from night itself. Watching. Listening. Waiting.

She hated how much comfort that brought her.

"You don't sleep?" she asked softly.

Lucien didn't glance her way. "Not anymore."

"What happened to her?" she asked, braver this time. "The girl you lost."

That made him look at her. Slowly. Like he wasn't sure whether to answer or bare his fangs.

"She was... naive," he said at last. "Much like you. She believed in the old stories. The good ones."

Evelina swallowed. "What happened to her?"

Lucien's voice turned to ice. "She believed a vampire could love her."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," Evelina whispered.

Lucien said nothing. But the way his jaw clenched told her not to push.

Instead, she sat back and pulled the coat he'd given her tighter. It smelled like rain and forest and smoke. It smelled like someone who hadn't let anyone close in years.

Her hand brushed the crimson mark on her wrist. The blood contract pulsed faintly under her skin, warm like a second heartbeat. Her curse. Her inheritance.

"How did you know about this?" she asked. "The mark. The bond. Everything."

Lucien's gaze flicked to her wrist.

"Because I used to belong to Thorne's court," he said.

Evelina blinked. "You served him?"

"No," he said, too quickly. "I watched him. Learned his patterns. Until he noticed I didn't play by his rules."

"What happened?"

Lucien smiled without humor. "He tried to have me killed. I tore out his second-in-command's throat and disappeared into the Hollow."

Evelina stared at him. "So you're a traitor."

He looked amused. "Is that what they call me now?"

"They call you dead," she said. "The court says Lucien Vale burned in a rebellion."

"Then it's a good thing they're all liars."

Another gust of wind pushed through the broken windows, scattering ash and petals across the floor. Evelina stood and walked toward one of the stained-glass remnants, her fingers tracing the cracked face of a weeping angel.

"You really think someone can break the contract?" she asked.

Lucien turned his head toward her voice. "I said maybe."

"That's not enough."

"It's all you have," he said, pushing away from the altar. "Unless you want to go back and wear that silk dress while Thorne drinks you dry."

Evelina spun to face him. "You think I wanted this? My father signed that contract when I was a child. He thought marrying me off to Thorne would secure our bloodline."

Lucien's expression didn't soften. "And did it?"

"No." Her voice cracked. "It destroyed it."

He was quiet a long moment. Then: "That makes two of us."

His footsteps echoed as he crossed the chapel. "We need to leave before dawn. There's someone who might help us, but it won't be easy to reach him."

"Who?"

"An exiled priest. Not human. Not vampire. Something in between. He lives in the old catacombs, below the Hollow. They say he was once the bloodkeeper-guardian of the old rites, the ones outlawed by the courts."

Evelina frowned. "You trust him?"

Lucien hesitated. "I trust that he hates Thorne more than he fears me."

"Good enough," she muttered.

He tossed her an apple from the small satchel he carried.

The storm had passed by dawn, leaving the city soaked and still. Crimson Hollow didn't wake like normal cities. It lingered in the twilight between dreams and nightmares, as if even the sun was afraid to rise too high.

Evelina barely slept. She sat curled on the broken pew, Lucien's coat wrapped around her like armor. The chapel smelled of dust, rotting wood, and old prayers that had never been answered.

Across from her, Lucien stood beneath the cracked rose window, watching the light fight its way through the broken stained glass. It painted him in bleeding colors-red, gold, violet. His face looked carved from the same stone as the cathedral walls, beautiful in a way that felt inhuman.

"You never sleep?" she asked finally.

Lucien didn't turn to her. "I don't need to."

"But you used to."

A faint breath of a smile touched his lips. "Curious, aren't you?"

"You're helping me. I have a right to ask who's risking their life for me."

He did look at her then-eyes glinting with something unreadable. "You're not the only one with a death wish."

Evelina stood slowly, the cold floor biting her feet through the thin soles of her boots. Her body ached from the run, but it was the pressure in her chest-the weight of what she'd done-that made her feel heavier than stone.

"I shouldn't have run," she said, mostly to herself.

Lucien's head tilted slightly. "Regret already?"

"No." She met his gaze. "Just wondering how long I have before he finds me."

Lucien pushed off the wall and crossed the room with silent steps. He stopped just a breath away from her.

"You're not helpless," he said. "You don't have to be a lamb led to slaughter."

"I'm not a fighter," she replied. "I don't have claws or fangs or magic."

"No," Lucien murmured. "But you have something better."

"What's that?"

His hand lifted, stopping just short of touching her cheek. "Will. Fire. The kind that burns even vampires if they get too close."

The space between them thickened.

Evelina didn't move. She wasn't sure if it was fear or fascination that held her there-maybe both. The scent of him was strange, like smoke and something metallic beneath it. Not blood. Older than that. Deeper.

"Are you going to kiss me or kill me?" she whispered.

Lucien's smile was slow, dangerous. "I haven't decided yet."

Before she could reply, a sharp knock echoed through the chapel's rotting doors.

Lucien's head whipped around. His body tensed, every line of him suddenly predatory.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"Wait-"

He was already moving, crossing to the door with preternatural speed. Evelina crept behind a fallen column, watching as he cracked the door open an inch.

A voice floated through. Female. Accented. Sharp.

"Lucien Vale. Still skulking in graveyards, I see."

Lucien exhaled, sounding more irritated than afraid. "You have two seconds to tell me why you're here, Sera."

The door opened wider.

Evelina saw her-tall, wrapped in a cloak made of shadows, eyes glowing like candlelight behind a black veil.

Sera stepped inside without invitation. "I felt the magic ripple. A blood contract broken. That's not something I can ignore."

Lucien didn't look at Evelina. "She's not your concern."

"She is if Thorne sends the Elders after her. And he will. The girl isn't just any bound."

Evelina stood slowly. "You know who I am?"

Sera turned to her, studying her with eerie calm. "You're the last Hart."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Evelina asked.

Lucien's jaw tightened. "It means your bloodline carries the old vow. The kind even Thorne fears."

Evelina blinked. "What vow?"