Chapter 3

"I'm not a dog," I spat. My voice trembled. I tried to twist away, but he tightened his grip, wrenching my head back until I had no choice but to look at him.

"You're whatever I tell you you are, Ivy," he whispered.

His eyes weren't human. They were swirling with a dark, predatory hunger. Not the kind that wants to eat—the kind that wants to own every breath I take.

"And right now? You're a liability. Or a miracle. I haven't decided which one I'm going to break first."

He reached into the velvet case on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment. It looked cured in blood. Beside it lay a heavy, obsidian stylus. The air shifted. Suddenly it was thick, heavy, like we were underwater.

"What is that?" I breathed.

He leaned closer. I could smell him—sandalwood and something metallic, like a blade freshly wiped clean.

"A contract," Cain said. His thumb brushed the sensitive skin behind my ear, right where his mark still burned. "A blood pact. You sign this, and your life belongs to me. Not your father's debts. Not your brother's whims. Me. Every drop of blood, every thought, every scream. I own it all."

"And if I don't?"

Cain let out a low, dark chuckle. He didn't let go of my neck. He leaned down, lips almost touching my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"Then I hand you back to Silas. I bet he's still waiting with that knife he loves so much. Or maybe I just let the hunters find you. They've been smelling you for three blocks, Ivy. You're a beacon. A little, delicious light in a very dark forest."

I froze. "Hunters? What do you mean?"

"I mean the sirens are already going off in the Lower District." He finally released me, stepping back. He tossed the parchment onto the floor. "The moment I marked you, the scent changed. You're not a defect anymore. You're a prize. And every low-life in this city just got a notification that the prize is sitting in my bedroom."

*BONG.*

A distant, wailing horn ripped through the air. Then another. Then a series of explosions rattled the windowpanes.

"You did this!" I scrambled to my feet, chest heaving. "You marked me and now they're coming!"

"I gave you value," Cain countered. He looked bored, but his eyes were dancing. "Now, you have a choice. Be a corpse on the sidewalk, or be my tool. Sign the paper, and I protect you. Refuse? I'll watch from the balcony while they tear you apart."

He stepped toward me. His presence was suffocating. He didn't touch me, but the heat radiating off him felt like a furnace. He stopped inches away, forcing me to tilt my head back.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why me?"

Cain’s hand moved slow. His fingers traced the line of my jaw—barely touching, yet every nerve ending ignited. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a lethal, gravelly tone.

"Because the noise in my head—the rage, the screaming—it stops when I'm near you. You're not just a key, Ivy. You're my drug. And I've always been a greedy man with my addictions."

I shivered. A traitorous heat bloomed in my stomach. I hated him. I hated the way he looked at me like a piece of fruit he was about to peel.

Outside, the screams started. Glass shattered. People were being dragged from their homes.

"Sign it," he commanded. "Before I lose my patience and drag you into the cellar."

I looked at the parchment. The runes seemed to writhe, hungry. I reached for the stylus, fingers shaking.

"Wait," I said, locking eyes with him. "If I sign this, I want something. The truth about my mother. Everything."

Cain paused. A dangerous smile curled his lips. "Bargaining from a position of weakness? I almost admire that. Fine. You get the truth. In pieces. As you earn them."

I didn't hesitate. I couldn't.

*CRASH.*

The heavy oak door splintered. Something slammed against it from the outside. A guttural roar ripped through the hallway, followed by the sound of metal claws scraping wood.

"Hurry," Cain snapped. He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and forced my hand toward the paper.

I pressed the stylus down.

The ink didn't just sit there. It lunged. A searing pull yanked at my chest, like a hook had snagged my heart and was dragging it toward him.

"Ah!" I gasped, my knees buckling.

Cain caught me, hauling me flush against his chest. The contact was electric. I could feel his heartbeat—fast, heavy, echoing mine. He held me tight, arms wrapping around me like a cage, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

"There," he murmured, sounding almost... satisfied. "Now you're mine. Truly."

*BOOM.*

The door burst open. Shards of wood flew like shrapnel. Three figures leaped inside—not men, but things. Pale, elongated limbs. Milky eyes. Needle-teeth.

Hunters.

They didn't look at Cain. They looked at me. And they looked starving.

Cain didn't flinch. He stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. He didn't draw a weapon. He just stood there, a low growl building in his throat like a landslide.

"You're in the wrong house, boys," Cain said, voice dripping with malice.

One creature lunged—a blur of gray skin and claws. Cain moved faster. He caught the thing by the throat in mid-air. *Snap.* The sound of bone breaking echoed like a dry branch. He slammed it into the wall, cratering the plaster without even looking.

But as he fought, I felt it.

A hum in my blood. Then a roar. The mark on my neck flared white-hot. I didn't just see the hunters; I could feel their fear. I could feel their jagged hunger.

Then, a surge of cold, forbidden power shot through my veins.

I didn't mean to do it. I just screamed.

*WHAM.*

A shockwave of translucent blue energy erupted from my chest. The remaining two hunters didn't just fly back—they disintegrated. No blood. No bone. Just ash, wiped from existence in a heartbeat.

Silence returned. Heavier than before.

Cain turned around slowly. He wasn't looking at the ash. He was looking at me. His eyes were wide—a mixture of shock and something that looked terrifyingly like worship.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, staring at my trembling hands.

He didn't answer. He pulled a glowing device from his pocket—a handheld scanner. He tapped a button, and a holographic list flickered into the air. A bounty board.

I looked up. My breath stopped.

There, at the very top, was my photo. My name. And a price tag higher than the Regent's own palace.

"You're not just a key, Ivy," Cain said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're a walking apocalypse. And the countdown just started."

He pointed to the red timer blinking next to my name.

00:59... 00:58... 00:57...