The car rolled up the long, winding driveway of the mansion, headlights cutting through the darkness like knives.
Neither of us spoke.
Vincent stepped out first, rounding the car without a word. I didn't wait for him to open my door, but he did anyway—because of course he did. Because he had to be the one in control.
I brushed past him, my shoulder catching his chest just slightly. I didn't stop. I didn't apologize.
Inside, the mansion was cold and still. Even the air felt like it was waiting for something.
I dropped my clutch on the nearest table and turned to find him right behind me.
Too close.
Always too close.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" I demanded, voice low but sharp.
Vincent's jaw tensed. "Would it have changed anything?"
"Yes," I snapped. "It would've changed everything."
"You would've still ended up here," he said, shrugging off his jacket with slow, precise movements. "At my side."
"Not by choice."
"No," he agreed. "But you're here now."
The way he said it—possessive, final—made something wild coil in my chest.
I backed up a step.
He followed.
"You can't just rewrite my life," I said, voice rough. "You can't decide for me—"
"You were decided the moment you stepped into that party, Little De."
The nickname slid off his tongue like velvet over a blade.
I hated how my skin prickled at it.
"Stop calling me that," I hissed.
"Make me."
He moved again, and suddenly my back hit the wall, cool marble stealing the warmth from my skin.
Vincent's hand came up slow, fingers trailing along my jawline with a kind of brutal softness that didn't match the fire in his eyes.
"You don't get it, do you, Little De," he said, voice rough, like he was wrestling it down.
"You think you're still choosing."
His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth—barely there, almost reverent—and I froze like prey under a hunter's gaze.
"You were mine the second you looked at me that night."
His hand slipped lower, down my throat, pausing just above the hollow where my pulse betrayed me—wild and frantic. He didn't squeeze. He didn't press.
He just felt it.
Owned it.
"You think you hate me," he murmured, leaning closer until his breath was all I could breathe. "You think you're fighting me."
He dragged the tip of his nose down my cheek, slow and deliberate.
My knees almost buckled.
"But deep down?"
He smirked against my skin.
"You're just waiting for me to break you open."
The worst part?
I wasn't sure he was wrong.
I hated him.
I hated how badly I wanted him.
And he knew it.
Vincent pulled back just enough that his mouth hovered an inch from mine—taunting, promising—and it took everything I had not to close that gap.
His hand finally dropped from my throat to my waist, fingers sliding down my hip in a slow, claiming stroke.
"I could kiss you right now," he said.
"Right here. With your heart still racing from the lies they fed you."
My nails dug into the wall behind me.
"But I won't," he added softly, almost like a damn mercy.
"Not now."
He stepped back.
The cold flooded in like a slap.
Then—
Bang.
The door slammed open down the hall, the sound tearing through the moment like a bullet.
"Vincent!" Adriel's voice rang out. Urgent. Sharp. "Rion's making his move. It's happening tonight."
Vincent didn't even glance away from me.
He just let the corner of his mouth lift—the barest, deadliest smirk—and said in a voice that could freeze blood:
"Don't leave the mansion!"
Then he turned, black suit slicing through the light, and stalked down the hall toward war.
Leaving me against the wall, gasping for breath I hadn't realized I was holding—
-----
The walls of the mansion felt like they were closing in on me.
Pacing the length of my room, heart slamming against my ribs, I pulled out my phone and hovered over the only contact that made sense right now.
Riley.
Rion's sister.
The one person who could tell me if I was losing my mind… or if everything was really that twisted.
I hit call before I could think twice.
It rang once. Twice.
She answered on the third.
"Blossom?" Riley's voice was a little too breathless. A little too high.
"Is it true?" I demanded, skipping the greetings. "Is Rion—" I swallowed. "Is he involved?"
Silence crackled through the line.
For a second, I thought the call dropped.
Then her voice came back, small. "...Yes."
I froze.
"Yes?, And you hid all this from me for that long?" I whispered, needing her to say it again.
Needing her to tell me I was wrong.
"I'm sorry," Riley choked out. "I wanted to tell you before but—God, Blossom—it's complicated."
Complicated.
Everything was always complicated in this damn world.
My hand fisted in the fabric of my dress. "Where is he?"
"Blossom—"
"I need to see him. Riley, I swear to God, either you tell me where or I find him myself."
She hesitated.
"Alright. Meet me first. We'll figure it out together. I'm at this address—" she rattled off a street name I didn't recognize. "Come alone, okay? We'll talk before you do anything stupid."
I agreed too fast. Too desperate.
And maybe—somewhere deep inside—I already knew it was a bad idea.
---
The mansion was dead quiet.
Vincent's warning hung in the air like a curse, a heavy thing curling around my neck.
*Don't leave the mansion.*
But if I stayed, I'd go insane.
I needed answers.
I changed into black jeans, a plain jacket. Low-profile. Fast.
Before stepping out, I knelt beside my nightstand and pulled out the slim blade Vincent gave me weeks ago. A gift disguised as protection.
The knife slid into the inside pocket of my jacket like a second skin.
Never without a weapon.
My heartbeat stayed calm, even as adrenaline started dripping slow and hot into my veins.
I knew the cameras were on—knew Vincent probably had people posted.
But the thing about being underestimated?
You learned how to slip through cracks they didn't even know were there.
I climbed out my window, dropping soundlessly onto the damp grass below.
Stayed low, moved fast.
At the edge of the estate grounds, I flagged a passing cab, tossing the driver a wad of cash before he could even question me.
"Just drive," I muttered, rattling off the address Riley gave me.
The city peeled away into darker streets.
The farther we went, the heavier the air felt.
---
The cabbie dropped me at the mouth of a narrow, abandoned street.
Flickering streetlamps barely held back the dark.
I stepped out, boots hitting cracked concrete.
Gravel crunched underfoot as I pulled my jacket tighter.
I dialed Riley.
"Are you sure this is the place?" I asked, eyeing the boarded-up storefronts and rusting street signs.
"Yes," she said quickly. Too quickly. "Just wait there—I'm two minutes away."
The call cut before I could ask anything else.
I turned in a slow circle, scanning.
A figure broke off from the shadows ahead.
I tensed, but recognition hit a second later.
"Blossom?"
It was Chase—the guy who'd invited me to his underground music show months ago, the coffee shop guy.
I never went. Too busy running from one fire to the next.
He jogged up, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jacket, flashing that crooked grin I remembered.
"Small world," he said, stopping a few feet away. "Didn't think I'd see you in a place like this."
I forced a smile. "Same."
"You here for the show?"
I blinked. "Show?"
He laughed, shaking his head. "Guess not. They're trying to kickstart the scene here again. Gritty vibes, you know."
I nodded vaguely, brain scrambling for a normal response. "Maybe next time."
Chase chuckled. "Take care, Blossom."
And just like that, he disappeared back into the night.
A strange, eerie calm settled over me.
Next time.
There might not be a next time.
Headlights cut through the gloom.
A sleek silver car pulled up beside me, passenger window rolling down.
Riley leaned over from the driver's seat, waving frantically.
"Blossom! Hurry!"
Relief punched through my chest.
I sprinted the short distance to the car, wrenched the door open, and slid inside.
The second the door slammed shut.
Arms.
From the back seat.
An iron grip around my chest.
A sharp sting at the side of my neck.
I thrashed, kicking out, hands scrambling for my knife—but it was too fast.
Too clean.
The world spun.
Riley's face blurred in front of me.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
The darkness swallowed me whole.