Chapter 4

Two days later, they came for me again.

It was the middle of the night. The same impassive guard hauled me from my bed, dragging me out of my room without a word. My knees, still tender and bandaged, protested with a sharp spike of pain.

The cold night air hit my bare arms and legs. I was still in my thin pajamas. The guard pulled me across the wet lawn toward the separate medical wing of the estate.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He didn't answer. He just tightened his grip.

The medical wing was sterile and white, smelling of antiseptic. He forced me into a room I knew all too well. The blood donation room.

I was shoved into the reclining chair, the cold leather a shock against my skin. They strapped my arms down. Panic began to claw at my throat.

Dorian was there, standing by the window with his back to me. Ainsley was next to him, looking pale and worried.

The family doctor, a man whose salary was paid by the Steeles and whose loyalty was bought and sold, approached me with a needle.

"What's going on?" I demanded, struggling against the restraints. My bandaged knees throbbed.

"Miss Sandoval is unwell," the doctor said, his voice devoid of sympathy. "She needs a transfusion. Your plasma is the only universal match that won't require extensive testing."

"But... I just gave blood last week," I protested. "It's too soon. It's dangerous."

The doctor looked at Dorian, a silent question in his eyes. He knew the protocols. I was only supposed to donate small, regular amounts to create the serum. A full transfusion, especially so soon, was risky.

Dorian finally turned around. His face was a cold, hard mask. He looked at me as if I were a piece of equipment, a bag of saline rather than a person.

"She'll be fine," Dorian said, his voice flat. "She's tough."

She's tough. The words echoed the cruel whispers of the maids I'd overheard for years. "That Kira girl, she's got a strong life force. The master's illness would kill anyone else, but she just keeps bouncing back."

I was a resource to be exploited. A well that would never run dry.

My eyes fell on the blood bag hanging from the IV stand. A white label was stuck to it. In neat, black letters, it read: For Ainsley Sandoval.

They were going to drain me for her. My life force, the very essence of my body that I gave to keep Dorian alive, was being diverted to his fiancée. For a fabricated illness. I knew she wasn't sick. I could see it in the triumphant glint in her eyes.

The needle slid into my arm. A sharp, cold sting.

I didn't cry out. I lay there, silent, as I felt my life being siphoned away. I stared at Dorian, my eyes begging him to see what he was doing.

"Dorian," I whispered his name, a last, desperate plea.

He walked over to me. For a moment, I thought he might stop it. He reached out and touched my cheek, his fingers surprisingly cold against my skin.

"Just bear with it, Kira," he said, his voice low. "Ainsley needs this. She's more important."

More important.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. I couldn't stop it. It was a raw, broken sound that echoed in the sterile room.

"More important than what, Dorian?" I asked, my voice shaking with a terrible, newfound strength. "Than the 'household staff's daughter'?"

His jaw tightened. "Don't be dramatic."

I started to feel lightheaded. The room began to spin. The doctor muttered something about my blood pressure dropping.

"Keep her conscious," Dorian ordered, his voice sharp. "I need her to be stable for the full donation."

He didn't care about my health. He just needed the product to be viable.

I saw my reflection in the polished chrome of the IV stand. My face was pale, my lips turning blue. My eyes looked huge and haunted.

I remembered all the times I had willingly given my blood for him. The pain, the weakness, the days spent recovering. I had done it out of love. A stupid, blind, all-consuming love.

He had promised he would always protect me. He had promised.

And now he was standing here, watching me be drained for a woman who was playing him like a fool.

The blood bag was almost full. My vision was tunneling, black spots dancing in front of my eyes.

"Stop," the doctor said nervously. "Any more and she'll go into shock."

"Is it enough for Ainsley?" Dorian asked, his only concern for her.

"Yes, it's more than enough."

Dorian nodded, satisfied. He turned to leave, Ainsley already clinging to his arm, whispering her thanks.

I felt a surge of adrenaline, a final burst of defiance.

"Dorian!" My voice was a croak, but it stopped him at the door.

He didn't turn around. His back was a broad, unyielding wall.

"We're even now," I whispered to his back, the words tearing from my throat. "After this, I don't owe you anything. Not my blood. Not my life."

He flinched, a barely perceptible tightening of his shoulders.

Then, without a word, he walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

The last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me was his silhouette disappearing down the hallway, leaving me alone in the cold, white room.

My heart, which had been his for so long, finally shattered. He hadn't just broken it. He had stood by and watched as it was drained of all life, and then he had walked away.

I would not love him anymore. I couldn't.

There was nothing left to love.