Raymond’s POV
I left the manor early. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t even wear the damn bracelet Jude gave me—the one meant to hide my scent from other vampires. I just grabbed my coat, shoved some crumpled bills into my pocket, and walked out.
The visions hadn’t stopped. Not for a second. They came in waves now, like fever dreams stretched across reality. I’d see flashes of the realm, see Jude bleeding in my arms, see myself holding fire in my hands, sitting on some throne that didn’t make sense.
And the whispers. God, the whispers.
They followed me into sleep and woke me like sirens every morning. Ancient voices speaking in languages I shouldn’t understand. Names I’d never heard but somehow knew. It felt like my body was stretching to fit something too big for it.
I was exhausted. My bones felt too heavy, like I’d been dragged through time itself. An
Jude's POVI came down the stairs hard—bare feet smacking marble, every step pounding like a war drum. Still dripping from the shower, no shirt, no care. My fangs hadn’t fully retracted, and the way my heart was beating, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to.Then came the crash. Glass. A shout.What now?“WHAT WAS THAT?!”My voice exploded through the house. Loud enough to rattle the chandeliers. Loud enough to make the entire damn hallway stop breathing.The two maids standing by the end table jumped out of their skins. One flinched so bad she dropped the cloth she was holding. The other started stammering before I even got close.“S-sir—sorry, sir—it was just—just a bottle. It slipped.”I stopped walking. Eyes locked.“A bottle,” I repeated. Flat. Cold.I didn’t need to ask more. The scent already hit me—deep red, sharp, sweet. My stomach dropped.I turned, followed it, walked past them until I saw it.No.There, bleeding across the silk runner and dripping into the cracks of the marble t
Raymond’s POV"Get up."It wasn’t loud. Just enough to split the quiet in two. My brain buzzed, my chest tightened, and the silence that had wrapped itself around me cracked straight down the middle. My eyes snapped open. He stood in the doorway, shadowed but unmistakable, his gaze locked on mine."Get up," he said again. Calm. No edge to it. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a suggestion.I scrambled to my feet.My shirt was wrinkled, stuck to my back with sweat. My legs were stiff from sitting too long, nerves rattling. I waited for him to say something else—ask what I’d done, where I’d gone, what I was thinking.He didn’t.He stepped aside and tilted his head. "Go get changed."I blinked. "Changed?"He didn’t repeat himself. Just turned and walked down the hall.I obeyed.I peeled off the shirt, the fabric clinging like it didn’t want to let go. I changed fast, not thinking, just moving—clean shirt, loose pants, no socks. My heart was hammering the whole time.When I stepped out, Jud
Raymond's POVI sat on the edge of the bed, hands in my lap, fingers twisting together, tighter and tighter. The room was quiet. Too quiet. I kept looking at the door. Nothing. Not a sound. Just silence. That kind of silence that makes your heart race because you know something's wrong.He didn’t come.Jude didn’t come.I waited all night. I kept expecting the door to swing open, his boots to hit the floor hard, his voice to cut through the air like a knife. But nothing. No Jude. No words. No punishment. Just silence.It made me more scared than if he had yelled at me.I stood up and started pacing.“He knows,” I whispered to myself. “He always knows.”Weeks ago, when I slipped out for just a few minutes with that girl from the wine cellar, Jude knew. He came storming into my room like fire, eyes blazing, voice low and dangerous.So how didn’t he know now?Or maybe..."He knows. And he’s waiting," I muttered. "Waiting to catch me off guard."I jumped when I heard the doorknob turn. My
Jude’s POVThe tires crunched into the gravel like they were chewing bones. My knuckles were tight around the steering wheel as I pulled through the gates of the mansion. The security wards shimmered faintly in the air, reacting to my presence. My car glided to a stop, headlights cutting through the gloom of the evening like blades.I sat there for a few seconds. Breathing. Trying.I wasn’t calm.Not even close.The vampires hadn’t given me everything, not yet, but the symbol—the twin serpents—that had been enough. That symbol belonged to ghosts. To ruins. To an order that should’ve been erased from every corner of this world.But now they were here. Moving.And they’d gone after Raymond.That was their first mistake.I opened the door and stepped out. The night air brushed against my face, carrying the scent of dew, grass, and faint ozone. The scent of blood still clung to me, though. It was dried now, flaky in the creases of my fingers. I hadn’t even noticed it until the wind brough
Raymond’s POVIn no time, I was now back at the mansion.Getting here felt like a marathon through minefields—but getting in? That was a whole different game. I was running on adrenaline, fear, and sheer nerve, and every step I took carried the weight of one terrifying truth:If Jude caught me, I was dead.Not literally. But maybe emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. Because he’d never trust me again.So yeah, to me? That felt just as bad.The taxi had dropped me two streets down from the estate wall. I didn’t want the car to pull up too close—these guards were trained to notice everything. New faces, unfamiliar sounds, headlights where they shouldn't be. Paranoia was part of the job, and tonight, it was my worst enemy.The side road I picked was barely a road at all—more like a dirt lane hugged by trees and overgrowth. I stuck to the edges, moving through the shadows, breathing shallowly. The moon was high but blocked by clouds, and for once, I was grateful.I approached the rear corn
Raymond’s POV"We are at the alley," the driver said, his voice low and casual, like he was pointing out a bus stop or a 24-hour diner.I leaned forward in the back seat and looked out the window.And there it was.The alley.Same cracked pavement. Same flickering streetlamp overhead that buzzed like a dying insect. Same rusted dumpster leaning against the graffiti-stained wall. Even the dark wet mark on the brick—blood or oil, I still didn’t know—was still there, like time hadn't dared touch this place.The exact spot I was attacked.The same alley where I should have died.Something clenched inside my chest. A deep, cold grip that slid between my ribs and squeezed. But I didn’t let it show. I couldn’t."Thanks," I said, pushing open the door."How much?" I asked as I stood halfway out, my foot on the cracked curb.The driver looked at the meter, then back at me. "Fifteen dollars."I reached into my pocket, pulled out a slightly crumpled twenty, and handed it to him. "Keep the change