Chapter 4

Luca scoffed. His tone bled absolute arrogance and certainty.

"Give up? Elara bet her entire life on bonding herself to me. Don't worry, she can't leave me."

"Without my blood, she has absolutely nothing."

The tray tilted in my hands.

A few drops of the boiling potion splashed onto the back of my hand.

Angry red burns instantly blistered on my pale skin.

I stood there, frozen. I didn't feel the pain until the burns swelled high.

I couldn't even tell if the pain was coming from my hand, or my heart.

I gripped the crystal vial and walked to the end of the hall.

A row of withered vines sat there, allegedly transplanted from a fallen angel's courtyard.

With a tilt of my wrist, I poured the potion I'd spent three hours brewing straight into the dirt.

Just then, Mia strutted over. She swung the badly scratched bracelet in her hand.

She watched me dump the potion, a victorious sneer on her lips.

"Elara, Luca just told me the moonlight in the master bedroom is better for my health."

"You know, ever since my transition, my body has been so weak."

"He told me to move in tonight. Shouldn't you start packing and clear out?"

I had lived in the master bedroom of Thorne Castle for ten years.

Our first magical portrait still hung on the wall next to the bed.

That bed, the vanity, even the freezing stone floor—they all held the memories of our wild, desperate nights together.

I looked at Mia's face, so eager to replace me, and simply nodded.

"Fine. I'll move out now."

I walked into the bedroom. I didn't touch a single magical artifact or blood diamond.

I just pulled out a beat-up canvas duffel bag and threw in a few clothes. Then, I grabbed my family's bloodline signet from the very back of the safe.

It was the only proof of my true identity—the crest of the Nightshade heir.

The sigil in my pocket buzzed.

A screen of light popped up. It was a message from my brother.

"The erasure of 'Consort Elara' from the High Council registry is complete. From now on, that person no longer exists in the Thorne clan. You can come home clean, under your real name."

I zipped up the duffel, swung it over my shoulder, and walked out of the master bedroom.

I moved straight into the most isolated crypt in the North Wing.

The air reeked of rust and mildew.

But on the bright side, it was completely isolated.

I tossed my bag onto the narrow stone slab in the corner, not even bothering to unpack.

Twelve hours until I was gone.

Night fell heavy. A fierce wind howled outside the castle, bringing an ominous chill to the air.

It was the darkest hour before dawn.

Luca returned to the castle after handling clan business.

He ripped off his cloak. His eyes swept across the empty master bedroom, and he frowned.

A pale, trembling thrall reported, "My Lord, the Consort... she moved to the crypts in the North Wing."

Luca's already dark expression instantly twisted in absolute rage.

In a blink, he appeared right behind me.

I was leaning against the narrow window. Feeling his familiar oppressive aura, I turned my head.

I watched him walk in. His furious eyes scanned the crumbling room, finally landing on my canvas bag on the stone slab.

"What kind of act is this now, Elara?" His voice was low, but sharp as a knife.

"Mia takes the master bedroom, so you skulk off to the thrall quarters? Who gave you permission? Are you trying to make a fool out of me?!"

I pushed off the windowsill and met his gaze.

"All the other guest rooms are full of Lady Mia's luggage. This was the only empty one. It doesn't matter where I sleep."

My calm obedience completely set him off. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard I almost cried out in pain.

As I struggled, the sleeve of my silk robe slid up. It revealed the ugly, twisted burn scar on my forearm where the silver bullet had torn through.

Luca's eyes glued themselves to that scar.

For a split second, the rage in his eyes was replaced by something far more complex and painful.

It was a sharp stab of regret mixed with self-loathing.

But he quickly buried it under a layer of freezing arrogance.

"That scar..." He dropped my hand. His tone was cold and exhausted. "Are you trying to remind me that I was once pathetic enough to let you take a hit for me?"

He let out a hollow laugh. "I hate it, Elara. Glamour it starting tomorrow. Don't ever let me see that mark again."

He arrogantly waited for me to break down. He waited for me to submit.

But looking at his face, twisted with wild rage, my heart was calmer than it had ever been.

My heart was already dead ash.

I didn't fight back. I didn't argue. I didn't cry.

I just pulled my hand back, leaned down, and grabbed my black duffel bag.

"Fine. I'll leave now."

I carried the bag past him and headed straight for the door.

Luca finally snapped.

He hadn't gotten the tears and begging he expected.

He stormed after me, snatched my bag, and yanked open the castle's heavy front doors.

Dawn was coming unusually early. The first sliver of pale light was tearing through the night sky.

Luca threw my bag out into the morning mist. He pointed out the door, his voice hoarse with absolute fury.

"Elara, if you want to play it like this, take your trash and get the hell out of my castle! And don't ever come back!"

"Let's see how long your pathetic pride lasts before sunrise without my protection and without a daylight ring!"

I stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a thin robe.

The first weak rays of sunlight hit my face, bringing a stinging burn.

I glanced back. Luca was staring me down. When he saw me look back, a clear flash of relief washed over his face.

He was so sure I was terrified. He was so sure I would beg.

But he didn't see me begging.

I turned my back. Step by step, I walked straight into the morning mist. And let the dawn swallow me whole.

And my brother had already been waiting for a very long time.