Chapter 15

DAMON'S POV

"What is it, brother?" I asked Elijah, settling into my chair with deliberate ease, my gaze lingering on the door as I watched her retreating figure.

She was an enigma, that human—a curious, defiant creature who bore no semblance of the meek servitude I had grown accustomed to. Her audacity intrigued me. The gall to ask why I hadn’t killed her yet! It was almost amusing, but beneath the surface, it pricked at something I couldn’t name. She was trouble personified, a thorn in my side, and yet… here she was, a complication delivered by the hands of the capricious moon goddess herself.

"They are here," Elijah announced, his voice measured, his eyes keenly observing me as he spoke.

A slow smirk curled on my lips. "Finally," I said, rising with a predatory grace. "Have them brought up at once."

After decades of searching, my family was at last within my grasp. My father, the wretched hypocrite, had cursed them, sealing them away in slumber with ancient magic. He had hated what we were—what he had made us. A hunter, he had buried his own flesh and blood, thinking to rid the world of what he deemed abominations. Yet he lacked the courage to kill us outright. Instead, he consigned them to a fate far crueler.

It took me centuries to find Elijah, buried alone beneath the ruins of our childhood home. Together, we scoured the globe, piecing together fragments of a lost past. Now, at last, with the assistance of a witch spurned by our father, we had located Bella and Adam. The curse would soon be broken.

Geoffrey entered the room, flanked by two solemn figures hauling aged coffins. They set them down before me, and for a moment, a rare, fleeting sense of relief washed over me.

"Has the witch done her part?" Elijah inquired, his tone as calm and deliberate as ever.

"Yes," Geoffrey confirmed. "It is time. They are ready. They will awaken when the full moon ascends tonight."

My nostrils flared as I caught a familiar scent at the door. The girl again. A shadow of irritation flickered through me—why couldn’t she learn to leave well enough alone?

Geoffrey, his senses sharper than most, was already moving. He swung the door open, revealing her trembling form. The fear radiated off her in waves, but still, she stood there, fidgeting and clutching a bundle of files like some hapless lamb wandering into the lion's den.

"What are you doing?" Geoffrey's voice was a low snarl, his icy eyes raking over her as though she were an insect under his boot.

Her voice quivered as she stammered, "I came to deliver these."

Elijah’s gaze shifted to me, his expression faintly amused as if to say, 'Well? What now, brother?'

"Let her go," he instructed Geoffrey, who promptly shut the door in her face without another word.

Elijah arched a brow at me. "How long will you persist in denying the truth? She is your mate, Damon."

"She is nothing to me," I retorted, swirling the amber liquid in my glass before downing it in one gulp. "I have no use for such fancies. Mates are chains, and I have no intention of being bound." I poured myself another drink, ignoring the flicker of doubt that brushed the edges of my mind. "Now, enough of this nonsense. Our siblings await."

Geoffrey was dismissed, and as the moon reached its zenith, the ritual began. I approached Adam’s coffin first, my steps deliberate, my expression inscrutable. The years had not dulled the sharp angles of his face; he looked just as I remembered.

"Here," Elijah said, handing me the white oak dagger.

I took it without hesitation, slicing into my wrist and letting the blood flow freely into Adam’s mouth. The crimson liquid seeped past his lips, and as the moments ticked by, the pallor of death began to lift from his skin. His chest rose with the first breath of his new life.

Elijah moved to Bella’s coffin, and as it creaked open, there she was—radiant even in her lifeless state. I repeated the ritual, and soon, her lashes fluttered as she stirred.

Adam’s eyes snapped open first. "Hello, brothers," he drawled, sitting upright with a languid grace that belied the centuries he had spent entombed.

"Welcome back, Adam," Elijah said, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Adam’s sharp gaze flicked to me, his lips curving into a smirk. "I trust you’ve been keeping the world entertaining in my absence?"

"Hardly," I replied, taking another sip of whisky. "But you’ll find this age has its amusements."

Bella groaned as she pushed herself upright, her delicate hands brushing at the fabric of her dress. "This—this horror! Who buried me in this monstrosity? And the coffin—it reeks of Father’s spite."

"Still dramatic, I see," I said with a chuckle, moving to steady her as she swayed. I offered her more of my blood, my hand lingering just long enough for her to regain her strength. "Fear not, little sister. You’ll find this era suits your flair for chaos."

She huffed, casting a disdainful glance at her outdated gown before spinning toward the mirror. "If this new world has even a shred of style, I shall make it my own."

Meanwhile, Adam had already claimed my tuxedo, standing before the mirror as he adjusted the cuffs with practiced precision. "This century already feels like home," he remarked, flashing a roguish grin. "So, Damon, when did you first discover this…gift of resurrection?"

I leaned back in my chair, my expression cool. "We do not resurrect the dead. We are alive because we are Originals—the first of our kind. That is all." My voice dipped, the weight of centuries coloring my tone. "It was never a gift, only a curse."

Bella twirled in her bloodstained dress, her mood already shifting. "Enough brooding. I’m starving, and I cannot wait to see what wonders await us in this strange new world!"

Before I could respond, the scent returned—a delicate, maddening reminder of the girl. I growled low in my throat and moved with inhuman speed, intercepting her as she stood frozen in the doorway.

She didn’t even have the chance to scream. The tray clattered to the floor as her knees buckled, and I caught her limp body in my arms. So fragile.

I stared down at her unconscious face, a flicker of something unnamed passing through me before I brushed it aside. "Trouble," I muttered under my breath, carrying her away from prying eyes.