Lucian's Undoing

CHAPTER 1

The grand doors of Everstone Mansion slammed shut behind Elias with a deafening sound. He stumbled down the stone steps, heart hammering so hard he thought it might break through his ribs. 

It was betrayal.

It was shame.

It was fear.

"You have no place here," Lord Everstone had spat at him minutes ago, his eyes gleaming with disgust.

"You filthy little whore."

Elias could still taste Tristan on his lips—sweet, desperate, forbidden. And he could still hear Tristan’s voice, trembling and terrified, as he shoved Elias away in front of everyone.

"I didn't want it! He forced me!"

Lies.

Every word a dagger straight into Elias’s gut.

He wrapped his arms around himself, forcing his legs to move down the driveway. His boots crunched against the gravel. His hands trembled. His throat was raw from the words he couldn't scream.

He hadn’t forced Tristan.

They had kissed because Tristan had wanted it—begged for it in the shadows of the east garden. Elias had trusted him. Trusted that maybe, for once, he could have something beautiful. Something real.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

Behind him, the heavy gates creaked open.

"Oi!" a rough voice barked. "There he is!"

Elias glanced over his shoulder—and his blood froze.

Three guards were charging after him. Their armor clanked with every step. Torches blazed in their hands, lighting their twisted faces. Not just anger there. Not just the thrill of the chase.

Something worse.

Panic exploded in Elias’s chest. He bolted, feet slipping on the icy road as he veered into the trees. The branches clawed at his face, tore at his clothes. His lungs burned with every desperate gasp.

"Run, faggot!" one of them hollered, laughter cruel and sharp.

"You think you can dirty up a fine heir like Tristan and walk away?"

Elias didn’t answer. His voice had abandoned him, just like everything else.

Another voice snarled closer behind him. "Disgusting little shit. Bet that pretty mouth of yours would be real useful."

"And that tight little hole," another jeered. "We oughta put it to better use before gutting him."

Their words twisted in Elias’s ears, bile rising in his throat. He pushed harder, sprinting through the darkness, slipping and catching himself, every muscle screaming for rest.

He couldn't stop.

He wouldn't.

If they caught him, death would be a mercy.

"Where you gonna run, huh?" a voice mocked, closer now.

"You ain't got nobody now. No Everstones. No home. Just a dirty little whore in the woods."

Tears blurred Elias’s vision, but he refused to let them fall. Not for them. Not for anyone.

He stumbled into a clearing, breathless, heart tearing itself apart.

And for a moment, he collapsed to his knees.

"What did I do wrong?" he whispered, voice cracking.

"I just... I just wanted to be loved."

Boots thundered behind him.

He surged up and kept running.

Branches whipped across his face, stinging his cheeks. His legs burned with exhaustion, every step a war.

"You can run, pretty boy," a voice called, almost sing-song, "but we will find you."

"And when we do..." Another one laughed, low and ugly. "You're gonna wish you stayed at Everstone."

Elias’s foot caught on a root and he pitched forward, landing hard on his hands and knees. Sharp rocks cut into his palms. Pain flashed white-hot, but he scrambled upright anyway, a wounded animal running from the slaughter.

In the distance—lights. A village maybe. Or salvation. He didn’t know. Didn’t care.

He just needed to get away.

"Please," he begged under his breath.

"Please, gods, just let me live."

The guards’ voices grew fainter behind him, but he knew they weren’t giving up. They would hunt him like dogs until they were sure he was dead—or worse.

He stumbled into the edge of the woods, where the trees thinned and the shadows stretched long and skeletal across the road.

His body screamed for rest. Blood trickled down his arms. His breath came in ragged sobs.

Elias stumbled forward, gasping, every step an agony.

And then—

A low growl rumbled through the night.

He froze.

From the shadows ahead, a figure emerged—tall, dressed in black, moving with the kind of predatory grace that made the hair on Elias’s neck stand up.

He blinked, dazed, trying to focus.

The man was beautiful in a way that felt unnatural. Sharp. Deadly. His hair as dark as the night around him, his eyes glinting crimson for the briefest second before settling into a piercing silver.

And behind Elias—

The guards burst from the trees, shouting.

"There he is!"

Elias barely turned when one of them grabbed him by the collar and yanked him backward.

"Thought you could run forever, you little slut?"

"Let go of me!" Elias rasped, struggling weakly.

The man in black—whoever, whatever he was—watched them without moving. His head tilted slightly, almost curious.

"Get your filthy hands off me," Elias snarled, even as his body betrayed him, shaking violently.

The guards laughed.

"You gonna cry, whore?" one sneered, drawing a blade. "Maybe we should have some fun first—"

He didn't finish the sentence.

In a blur of movement, faster than Elias’s eyes could track, the dark man was upon them.

There was a sickening crack as one guard’s neck snapped sideways, his body crumpling to the ground without a sound.

Another guard swung his sword.

The man caught it barehanded.

The metal shrieked against his skin—and then he crushed the blade as if it were nothing more than paper.

The guard screamed, but it was cut short when the man drove his fist straight through the armor into his chest. Bone crunched. Blood splattered across the grass.

The third tried to run.

Tried.

The stranger blurred again, catching him by the back of the neck and slamming him into a tree so hard the bark exploded outward.

Silence fell.

Elias stood trembling, staring at the carnage. His breath came in sharp, shallow pants.

The man turned to him slowly, his hands dripping crimson.

Elias stumbled back instinctively.

"Who—who are you?" he gasped, his voice breaking.

The stranger’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile. It wasn’t kind.

"Not who," he said, voice low and rich. "What."

Elias swallowed hard, every instinct screaming at him to run. But his legs wouldn’t move.

"What are you?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

The man stepped closer.

The silver of his eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

"A vampire," he said simply.

The world tilted sideways.

A vampire.

Those were stories, weren’t they? Nightmares whispered to frighten children.

Not real.

Not standing in front of him, drenched in the blood of the men who had tried to killhim.

Elias’s vision blurred.

His knees buckled.

The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was the vampire’s hand reaching out.

And then the world disappeared.