Chapter 2

The video showed a lavish private wine cellar. Flickering candles. I could almost smell the mix of red wine and fresh blood right through the screen.

I stared dead at the familiar mark in the top right corner of the video—the mark on the back of Bastian’s left hand.

It was supposed to be our blood pact mark. The sacred sigil every bonded vampire in the Thorne clan carried.

But he had used an illusion to twist it into a black rose tattoo.

It was his way of hiding our bond from the vampire elites—a public declaration to the entire supernatural world that he was single and ready for a more suitable match.

On my son’s sixth birthday, Bastian was spending the full moon with another vampire.

In that second, all my pain vanished into a weirdly numb calm.

I opened the comments and casually hit "like."

"Mom?" Liam’s voice snapped me back.

"Come here, baby." I crouched down and lit his candles. "Make a wish."

Liam closed his eyes and whispered, "I wish I could be with Mom forever."

I snapped a picture of that moment. My thought of leaving just turned into absolute certainty.

At 2 AM, a cloud of black mist materialized in our living room.

Bastian stepped out of the shadows.

A flash of regret crossed his eyes when he saw the leftover cake on the table.

"Sorry. I forgot." His voice was hoarse.

"Forgot?" I let out a soft laugh. "You’re getting quite forgetful, My Lord."

I pulled the blood pact dissolution contract from under the coffee table and tossed it in front of him.

I had paid a fortune to the witch coven for this parchment.

The ancient rule was absolute: a pact between a thrall and their master could only be broken by the master's own blood.

Before he could even look at the parchment, his phone rang.

Ophelia’s panicked crying came through the speaker. "Bastian! My castle’s wards are broken! A rival clan is attacking! I’m so scared!"

Bastian tensed up instantly, pure concern in his eyes as he stood up. "Don’t panic. I’m on my way."

He didn't even glance at the contract. Assuming it was just some standard expense report or work file, he impatiently bit his thumb, dropped a drop of blood on it, and vanished into black mist.

I looked at the glowing blood drop sealing the spell and shook my head with a bitter smile.

Even breaking our blood pact was just a passing chore to him.

The next day at work, Bastian handed me an exquisite ebony box.

"To make up for Liam’s birthday."

I opened the box and froze.

Inside sat a dark-magic gargoyle amulet. Its wings fluttered, and its eyes glowed red.

"Are you insane?" I slammed the box shut.

When Liam was five, Bastian took him to the clan graveyard but got distracted talking to the elders.

Liam wandered into the forbidden zone and was so traumatized by a rogue gargoyle that it permanently messed with his bloodline. He had been terrified of them ever since.

And now, the man responsible was giving his son this.

"What’s the problem?" Bastian frowned. "It’s the most sought-after amulet at the Old Market."

I took a deep breath, fighting down my rage.

"No problem. Thanks for the thought."

"One more thing," Bastian said casually. "Ophelia’s castle needs repairs. She’ll be staying in the manor’s master wing for a few days. Take Liam on a trip. I’ll cover all expenses."

"To avoid suspicion?" I glared at him.

"Yes. We need to keep our distance in front of the other clan members."

"Avoid suspicion?" I scoffed. "Or are my son and I just an embarrassment you need to hide away?"

Bastian looked a little uncomfortable. "Aveline, you know that’s not what I meant."

"I know." I stood up. "I’ll take Liam and go. Keep your money. We have a place to stay."

"Aveline..." His tone softened. "If you need any compensation..."

"I don't." I cut him off. "We don't need a damn thing."

Back at the manor’s side wing, I started packing immediately.

Liam quietly helped me fold things, not asking a single question.

Just as we packed up to leave, I saw Bastian and Ophelia walking toward us.

He wore a black trench coat. He looked like the perfect, caring partner.

With a snap of his fingers, Ophelia’s luggage appeared in our room.

Our eyes met. I saw a split second of panic in his gaze.