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Chapter Two

Isaac

The sun was rising slowly.

The sky still looked sleepy.

My bag lay on the ground, ready to go.

Then Aunt Eleanor spoke behind me.

“You’re a fool, Isaac. A blind fool.”

She was angry. But mostly she was scared. I could hear it.

“I know,” I said. I didn’t turn around. I just kept looking at the road.

Then I heard Lydia crying.

I turned. She was on the porch, shaking, eyes red.

“Please don’t go,” she said. “We can run away. Just us. Start over.”

I walked over and wiped her tears.

“I have to, Lyds,” I said. “I don’t have a choice.”

Evelyn stood next to her. She wasn’t crying. She just looked at me.

“If you leave now,” she said, “we might never see you again.”

I rested my forehead on hers. She smelled like lavender. It hurt.

“You will,” I whispered. “I promise.”

Then Sebastian came. He had his crossbow, looked stressed.

“You’re really doing this?” he said. “You know how bad this could go.”

“One mistake and that’s it.”

“I won’t screw it up,” I said. “You always said I was good.”

He didn’t say anything. Just hugged me tight and fast.

“Come back,” he said. “Don’t be stupid.”

I nodded. Didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

I looked at Evelyn one last time. She was crying now, trying to hide it.

I kissed her.

“I love you,” I said.

“Then come back to me,” she said, voice cracking.

I turned and walked into the cold morning air. Every step felt heavier than the last.

The train station was at the edge of the village. It looked like both freedom and danger. I didn’t look back.

Five hours later, the train pulled in with a loud hiss and the sound of steam. I stepped out onto the platform and looked up.

There it was.

The castle.

Tall towers. Dark stone. It was stunning in a cold, scary kind of way.

There were vampires everywhere—at least a hundred. Most of them looked proud, dressed perfectly, acting like they owned the place. I kept my head down. Tried to blend in.

The injection I took before I left was still working. My hands weren’t shaking, and I could breathe fine. But inside? I was burning.

Everyone around me looked hungry for power. They all wanted to win. Wanted the title, the crown.

I didn’t care about any of that.

I came for him.

Then everything shifted. People turned. Quiet spread.

Lucien Devereux walked in.

Tall. Dressed in black. Eyes silver and cold. He looked exactly the same as he did sixteen years ago.

My chest tightened. But I didn’t look away. I held his gaze.

He stared at me—for just a second. I saw something flicker in his eyes. Recognition maybe. Or suspicion. Then he looked away.

“Not bad, for a fresh face,” someone said next to me.

I turned and saw a vampire with slick hair and a smug smile.

“You don’t look like the others. What’s your name?”

I stayed calm. “Medor Thornwell,” I said in the fake accent I’d practiced. “And you?”

“Marcus Voss,” he replied. “Third son of the Voss line. Never heard of your family.”

“You wouldn’t have,” I said with a shrug. “We keep to ourselves. Quiet part of the west.”

He didn’t look convinced. He stepped closer.

“Unremarkable, huh? I’ll be watching you, ‘Medor.’”

“Feel free,” I said coolly.

He walked off, still staring at me like I was hiding something.

Then the crowd went quiet again.

Lucien raised a hand.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice calm and strong. “You are here to compete for a place at my side. But this is more than a contest—it’s about legacy.”

People murmured around me. I clenched my fists.

Liar.

He kept talking about unity and change and the future of their kind.

I wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or both.

Then he looked at me again.

This time, he walked straight toward me.

“You don’t look like the others,” he said quietly. “Who are you really?”

The crowd went silent.

I smiled, steady and sharp. “Curious, Your Highness? Am I not allowed to surprise you?”

His lips curled—not quite a smile. More like a warning.

“Surprises,” he said, “usually come with a price.”