Chapter 4

"You need to come back inside," he said.

I didn't move. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything. The contract activated."

"Activated." I laughed, but it came out shaky. "You mean it branded me like cattle."

He took a step closer. I took one back.

"Evelyn. Listen to me. Something is in the building. It's not safe out here."

"And it's safe with you?" I held up my wrist. "You did this. You—"

The lights went out.

Not flickering. Not dimming. Just gone, all at once, like someone cut the power to the entire floor.

I heard Lucien move in the dark. Fast. Too fast.

Then his hand was on my arm, pulling me back toward the penthouse door.

"Don't fight me," he said quietly. "Not right now."

I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

But something else was moving in the stairwell. I heard it. Footsteps that didn't sound right. Too light. Too slow.

Lucien dragged me through the penthouse door and slammed it shut. The lock clicked. Then another lock. Then something else I didn't recognize, a sound like metal scraping stone.

"Stay away from the windows," he said.

I backed into the center of the living room. My wrist was still burning. "What's out there?"

"Someone who wants what I have."

"And what's that? Me?"

He didn't answer.

I heard something scrape against the door. Once. Twice. Testing.

Lucien stood perfectly still, watching the door. His jaw was tight. His hands were loose at his sides, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.

"This is protection?" I said. My voice was too loud. "This is what you meant? I'm trapped in here with you while something tries to break in?"

"You're safer here than you were down there."

"I was leaving. I was getting out."

"And you would have made it maybe ten feet." He finally looked at me. His eyes were still gold, but dimmer now. Almost human. "You think I'm the only one who can smell you?"

I froze. "Smell me."

"Your blood," he said flatly. "Whatever makes you different. It's loud. Anyone with the right senses can track it."

My stomach dropped. "How many people are we talking about?"

"People." He almost smiled. "Sure. Let's call them that."

The scraping at the door stopped.

The silence was worse.

Lucien moved to the wall and pressed his hand against it. The same red ink that was on my wrist started glowing in lines along the doorframe, the windows, the edges of the walls. Wards, I realized. Some kind of protective barrier.

But the light was flickering. Fading in and out like a dying bulb.

"That's not good," I said.

"No," Lucien agreed. "It's not."

"What happens if they go out?"

"Then whoever's outside comes inside."

I stared at the fading wards. "Can you fix them?"

"They need to be powered. I've been… away too long. They're running on reserves."

"Away," I repeated. "You mean you haven't been feeding."

He didn't deny it.

I looked down at my wrist. The mark was still glowing, faint but steady. "The contract. It's connected to this. To the wards."

"Yes."

"So when you said I was bound—"

"I meant you're tied to this place now. To me. The contract makes you part of the system. Part of the defense."

I wanted to scream. Or throw something. Or both.

Instead I said, "You should have told me."

"You wouldn't have signed."

"Damn right I wouldn't have."

The wards flickered again. One of the lines went dark completely.

Lucien swore under his breath and pressed both hands to the wall. The lines brightened a little, but I could see the effort it took. His shoulders were shaking.

"You can't hold it alone," I said.

He didn't answer.

I stood there, staring at him, at the wards, at the red ink on my wrist. Part of the system. Part of the defense.

I thought about the NDA. The contract. The insane salary. The rules that didn't make sense.

Live in the penthouse. Cut all contact. Never leave without permission.

It wasn't a job offer. It was a recruitment.

"What happened to the last girl?" I asked.

Lucien went still. "What?"

"The last assistant. Vivian. What happened to her?"

"She left."

"Bullshit. If she left, the contract would have let me leave too. But it didn't. It burned itself onto me. So what really happened?"

He turned his head slightly. Not looking at me. Not looking away. "She tried to break the terms. It didn't go well."

"Define 'didn't go well.'"

"She's gone, Evelyn. That's all you need to know."

Another line of wards went out.

I heard something crack outside the door. Not the door itself. Something else. The frame, maybe. Or the wall.

"How do I power them?" I said.

Lucien looked at me sharply. "What?"

"The wards. You said the contract ties me into the system. So how do I help?"

"You don't. I'm not—"

"If those wards go out, whatever's outside gets in, right? And you can't hold them alone. So tell me how."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said, very quietly, "Blood."

Of course. Of course it was blood.

I looked down at my wrist again. The mark was glowing brighter now, like it knew what I was thinking.

"How much?" I asked.

"Not much. Just enough to feed the wards. But Evelyn—"

"Do it," I said. "Before I change my mind."

He crossed the room in three strides. Fast, but not the inhuman speed from before. Controlled.

He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I could see the gold starting to bleed back into his eyes.

"This is your choice," he said. "I'm not taking anything you don't allow."

"I'm allowing it. Now hurry up before I pass out from fear."

He took my wrist in both hands. His fingers were cold. Careful.

"It won't hurt," he said.

"Liar."

He almost smiled. Then he bent his head and bit.

It did hurt. Not like a needle or a cut. Like heat and pressure and something else I didn't have words for. The mark on my wrist flared bright red, and I felt something pull inside me, like a thread being drawn tight.

The wards blazed to life. Every line in the room lit up, bright and steady.

Lucien made a sound against my skin. Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh.

I should have been scared. I should have pulled away.

But I didn't.

His mouth was warm on my wrist. His grip was firm but not rough. And the pull—the strange, tight feeling inside me—wasn't entirely bad.

That scared me more than anything.

"Enough," I whispered.

He stopped immediately. Pulled back. His tongue traced the bite once, and the pain vanished. Just gone, like it had never been there.

I looked down. Two small marks, already closing. Already healing.

Lucien was breathing hard. His eyes were full gold now, bright and inhuman. He was still holding my wrist.

"Thank you," he said.

I didn't know what to say to that.

The wards were holding. Steady and bright. I could feel them now, humming under my skin like a second heartbeat.

We stood there in the too-bright silence, and I realized the scraping at the door had stopped.

Lucien realized it too. He let go of my wrist and moved to the door, listening.

Nothing.

He opened it. Just a crack.

The hallway was empty. The lights were back on. Everything looked normal.

But on the floor, right in front of the door, was a small silver token.

Lucien picked it up, and I saw his face go completely blank.

"What is it?" I asked.

He held it up. The token was stained dark red on one side. Blood, I realized. Old blood.

And carved into the silver was a single symbol: a triangle inside a circle, with three slashes through the center.

"It's a distress code," Lucien said quietly. "Used by contracted assistants when they're in danger and can't reach their employer."

My mouth went dry. "Vivian's?"

He looked at me. His eyes were still gold. Still inhuman.

"Yes," he said. "Someone wants you to know she called for help. And no one came."