Chapter 3
Elaine's POV
When they take me away, Everett is still standing at the estate gate.
"Three days! I'll come get you myself in three days!" His voice carries through the night wind, steady and certain.
He sounds so sure. I almost believe him.
The Disciplinary House dungeon never sees daylight. The air is thick with the smell of blood and the burnt, metallic stench of silver eating through flesh.
They shove me into a cell at the far end and slam the iron door shut.
The head guard looks me over and laughs. "Mr. Vane says this one can take it. Says to make sure she doesn't have a dull moment."
I lean against the damp wall. I don't even have the energy to look up.
So this is what he meant by taking care of things.
The first day, they don't let me sleep. Someone bangs on the bars. Another kicks the door in the middle of the night. I keep my eyes shut and wait for the throbbing in my temples to stop.
The second day, the head guard brings three people in.
They're the families of the humans Rosalie fed on. By vampire law, humans have no business in the Disciplinary House. But here they are, standing outside my cell, eyes burning with grief and rage.
The head guard leans against the wall and looks away.
"Rules? Not my department. All I know is Mr. Vane said to give this one some extra attention."
The door swings open. They rush in.
I don't fight back. I don't make a sound. If I were still healthy, these wounds would close in hours. But my body stopped producing clean blood a long time ago. Every cut just seeps black, rotting at the edges, refusing to heal.
"God, that smell." The head guard pinches his nose and glances at the black blood on the floor. "What is that, rot?"
I lean against the wall. My vision starts to go soft at the edges.
I'm dying.
Good. It's almost over.
Back at the estate, Everett is sitting in his study when something hits him in the chest.
A pain he can't name. Like something twisting behind his ribs.
He puts down the file and thinks about Elaine being led away. The bloodstained clothes. The empty look in her eyes.
He shakes it off.
He made arrangements. She's just somewhere else for three days. Once Rosalie's surgery is done, everything will be fine.
He owes Elaine a lot, he knows that. But this is for Rosalie. Elaine will understand.
He picks up the communication stone and gives the order: "Get the human families handled. Get someone to the Elders — I don't care what it costs. Three days. Get her out."
On the third day, I'm curled up on the cot, still holding onto one last ridiculous thought.
Maybe he'll actually come.
Maybe three days means three days.
The third day passes.
The fourth day passes.
Nobody comes.
I tell myself I should have seen this coming. From the moment I signed that form, I should have known — to him, I'm just something to be used up.
It's almost done anyway.
No point in waiting anymore.
I'm not sure how much time passes before I come back to myself enough to register that the cell door is open.
"Get her out."
One of Everett's men. He stands in the doorway with his nose covered, looks at what's left of me on the floor, and his face twists. "Mr. Vane says Rosalie's condition just took a turn. Surgery's been moved up. Let's go."
Two guards haul me out like I'm already dead weight.
Sunlight hits my skin like a burn. They load me into an enclosed carriage and take me straight to the sanatorium.
The hallway lights are a harsh, flat white.
They put me on a gurney and wheel me into the prep room. Doctors in surgical gear move around me, setting up equipment.
Then Rosalie gets wheeled in and stopped beside me.
She takes one look at me, pauses, then covers her mouth and laughs.
"Elaine, what happened to you? Where have you been?" She leans in close, and her voice drops. No pity in her eyes — just pure, satisfied amusement. "Can I tell you a secret? I've been faking this whole time. Did you know that?"
I look at her. Completely calm.
Of course I knew.
Not that it matters anymore.
Mom and Dad are in the hallway, watching through the glass. Mom has her hands pressed together, murmuring something, eyes fixed on Rosalie. Dad claps Everett on the shoulder, relaxed, like a problem that's finally getting solved.
Four people. Not one of them looks at me.
The gurney starts moving toward the operating room.
When I pass Everett, I speak.
"Everett."
I push every last bit of strength I have into his name.
He stops and looks down at me. His expression is somewhere between irritated and disgusted.
"Elaine, stop." He frowns. "It's just a blood draw. Once it's done, I'll have someone look after you. You're not going to die."
I look at him. This face I've loved for a hundred years.
I want to laugh, but I can't make my face move anymore.
My gaze drifts past him to the fluorescent light on the ceiling.
"Everett. If you ever find out that you hated the wrong person. Loved the wrong person."
"Don't cry."
