chapter 6

Ivy's POV

The guards marched me through the estate's corridors and pushed open a heavy oak door. I stumbled inside, my left shoulder still bleeding, my ankle swollen and throbbing.

The room was enormous. Black marble floors stretched beneath my feet. Deep red velvet curtains were drawn completely shut. Oil paintings depicting martyrdom hung on the walls. A fireplace burned with flames that gave off a strange, blood-scented smell mixed with spices. The air was cold.

Valerius reclined against a black leather sofa, his fingers turning over a black obsidian seal engraved with the family crest. His silver-gray hair was perfectly arranged, his deep purple eyes watching me without expression.

A man stood exactly three steps behind him, tall and impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.

The guards positioned me in the center of the room and retreated to the door. I stood there, trembling, my hands clenched into fists. My ankle was swollen inside my canvas shoes.

The man stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said, his voice polite but cold. "My name is Marcus Green."

He paused, his gray eyes scanning me. "I assume your little escape attempt has made our position clear, Miss Hayes."

My throat tightened. "I don't understand why I'm here," I whispered.

"Your ignorance is irrelevant," Marcus said. He pulled a smartphone from his suit jacket and tapped the screen, then turned it toward me. "What matters is what you can provide."

I stared at the image and my heart stopped.

Lucien lay on a hospital bed in a dark, luxurious room. His pale gold hair was matted and disheveled. His eyes were closed, his amber irises hidden. His upper body was bare except for thick bandages wrapped around his chest, over his heart, stained with something that gleamed silver. His right leg was heavily bandaged, dark veins spreading from beneath the gauze across his skin in poisonous patterns. His skin looked gray, translucent.

Marcus spoke in a clinical tone. "Last night, Mr. Lucien was ambushed with high-purity liquid silver. It penetrated his heart and shattered his right leg. He's now undergoing a five-month metamorphosis to purge the toxin and rebuild his bloodline. During this period, he suffers from Blood-Eclipse Syndrome—violent frenzies, loss of rationality, regression toward a ghoul state. Standard synthetic blood is rejected by his body. He requires rare blood types with specific genetic markers... and your O-negative blood happens to match those parameters."

"My blood?" I said, barely audible. I took a step backward. "You want to... to use me as..."

I couldn't say the rest.

Marcus's expression remained blank. "As his exclusive blood attendant during the metamorphosis. You'll provide regular blood samples and remain on-site for monitoring. You have no choice."

"Why me?" I burst out. "There must be other people with O-negative blood!"

"There are," Valerius said.

It was the first time he'd spoken. His voice was low, smooth, magnetic. He stopped turning the obsidian seal and his deep purple eyes lifted to meet mine.

"But you're the only one Lucien knows."

He rose from the sofa and walked to the fireplace, standing with his back to me, one hand on the marble mantelpiece.

"Four years ago in Seattle," he said, "you were his deskmate."

My body went rigid.

Valerius turned slightly, his purple eyes finding mine. "Familiar presence may reduce the psychological trauma of forced feeding. We're not certain it will work... but we're willing to try."

Marcus cleared his throat. "Perhaps you'd like to see him first?" His tone softened slightly. "Just a brief visit. He's heavily sedated right now."

"No." The word came out sharp. I shook my head violently, my hands clutching at my shirt collar. "Please. I can't... I can't see him like that."

My hands shook badly. I pressed them against my sides, my nails digging into my palms until I felt skin break.

"I can't help him," I said, my voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I can't help him. I'm useless. I can barely take care of myself. I'll only... I'll only make things worse."

Four years ago, after that assault, the school organized a fundraiser. My classmates stuffed money into my desk, their eyes full of condescending pity. I returned all of it and dropped out that same night, cutting off all contact. I didn't want to be stared at, pitied, turned into gossip. I just wanted to disappear, to live like a shadow.

Marcus's eyebrows drew together. He opened his mouth, but Valerius raised one hand and Marcus fell silent, stepping back.

Valerius crossed the distance and stopped directly in front of me. "Hold out your hand," he said quietly.

I thought he was going to punish me. My body trembled but I slowly extended my right hand and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Open your eyes, Miss Hayes," Valerius said, a sardonic note in his voice. "Look at what I'm doing."

I opened my eyes. He was placing a black card in my palm—smooth, cold, made of polished stone. Gold lettering was embossed on the back with contact information.

His gaze shifted downward. He noticed my swollen left ankle and tapped it lightly with the toe of his shoe. A quiet sound escaped him, almost a derisive exhale.

He turned to Marcus. "Call Dr. Ashford. Have him bring supplies to treat a sprained ankle."

Less than five minutes later, a middle-aged man in a white coat with gold-rimmed glasses entered, carrying a medical bag. A nurse in scrubs followed with supplies.

Dr. Ashford knelt in front of me. His hands were cold as he examined my ankle. "Severe sprain, no fracture. Ice packs and compression bandages."

The nurse cleaned the area with antiseptic, applied cooling gel, and wrapped my ankle in compression bandaging. When she finished, she handed me white medical slippers.

I slipped them on, my face burning with humiliation.

Dr. Ashford stood. "Keep weight off it for the next few days," he said, then he and the nurse left.

Marcus walked to the door and opened it. "You're free to go, Miss Hayes. For now."

I clutched the black card and limped toward the door, each step sending pain through my bandaged ankle.

I was almost at the threshold when Valerius's voice stopped me.

"Keep that card, Miss Hayes. You'll need it sooner than you think."