177

177
I turned toward the door, my pulse hammering as an impossibly tall figure emerged from the shadows of the corridor. As he stepped into my cell, I instinctively retreated, my bare feet sinking into the still-warm pool of Leif’s blood. Despite the suffocating circumstances, my body knew better than to let him too close. His presence alone was enough to smother the air in the room, thickening it with something dark and dangerous—something that made every breath a struggle.
Then, the light revealed him. A man with unruly, wavy black hair and piercing green eyes threaded with flecks of gold, his gaze luminous against the deep olive of his skin. High cheekbones and a sharp jawline only enhanced the sheer intimidation he exuded.
He didn’t so much as glance at Leif’s lifeless form on the floor. His eyes stayed on me, watching with an intensity that made my skin prickle. He took a step forward, and I reflexively stepped back. A smirk tugged at his full, pale-pink lips—a knowing, wicked curve that sent an unwelcome shiver through me. He kept closing the distance, moving with the kind of ease that spoke of control, of inevitability. And then my back met the wall.
I tensed as he leaned in, his muscled arms caging me, palms pressing against the cold stone on either side of my head. He loomed over me effortlessly, his shadow swallowing me whole.
“Hello, Sister,” he murmured, his deep voice a low vibration that curled through my bones.
I clenched my teeth and glared up at him. “I don’t recall having a brother.”
His lips twitched in amusement before he leaned even closer, his breath warm against my ear. “But you do, lovely Sister.”
I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze. Just as abruptly as he’d cornered me, he stepped back, releasing me from his trap. My heart pounded as I studied him warily, unsure if his withdrawal was a mercy or just the prelude to something worse. He chuckled, but the sound held no warmth.
“Perhaps I should introduce myself properly,” he said, the edge in his voice softening, though the danger remained. “I’m Eamon Huxley Marwood—though the name was never given to me. I took it for myself. I am the son of Cassius Marwood and Amery Vexley.”
I exhaled sharply, realizing only then that I’d been holding my breath.
My head spun. “Amery Vexley… Dorian Vexley’s sister?”
The name alone sent a flood of fragmented memories rushing to the surface—the whispers in the Thorne family archives, the scandal that had all but erased her from existence. The House of Vexley had always been ruthless, their bloodline pristine and their pride unyielding. For someone like Amery to bear a werewolf’s child… it must have been the ultimate disgrace.
But how? How had she met my father? Had they been in love? Was it before or after my mother came into the picture?
Eamon let out a humorless chuckle and sank onto the bed with a heavy sigh. “The Vexleys have been dealing with werewolf packs in secret for centuries. Profited from it, even. My mother became involved in their dealings, and that’s how she met Cassius Marwood. They burned for each other, a reckless affair that lasted two years. Then she became pregnant.”
His smirk vanished. His jaw tightened.
“When the Vexleys found out, they cast her out, erased her name from history as if she had never existed. She turned to her lover, hoping he would protect her. But Cassius Marwood had no use for a hybrid child. By the time she gave birth, he had already discarded her—thrown her away like nothing, because he had a new mate to occupy his bed.”
His voice darkened, the words weighted with something raw and seething. “She was lucky to have friends among the werewolves. They took her in. But it didn’t save her. She died when I was five.”
A part of me twisted, hearing the pain beneath his even tone. But another part stayed rigid, refusing to let it sway me. Pain didn’t excuse cruelty. A tragic childhood wasn’t an absolution for what he had become.
I remained pressed against the wall, studying him with careful detachment. He might have seemed composed, even casual, but that did nothing to diminish the lethal energy thrumming beneath his skin. He was powerful—I could feel it in the very air between us. And if he ever became my enemy, I had no doubt he could destroy me within moments.
His eyes flicked to me again, assessing. “When I was fifteen, I learned I had a little sister. A human girl, rejected just like me. I’ve wanted to meet you ever since.” He exhaled a quiet laugh, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “And… you’re welcome.”
I frowned. “For what?”
“For killing the bastard who ruined both our lives.” His smirk returned, sharper this time.
I inhaled deeply, fingers curling into fists.
“Cassius Marwood was going to die either way,” I muttered. “And I intended to have a little father-daughter conversation before his last breath.”
Eamon threw his head back and laughed, the sound chilling. “You mean you wanted to hear an apology? Some heartfelt regret for the way he treated you?”
“I… I don’t know.” I shrugged, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe I just wanted him to realize I wasn’t as weak as he thought.”
His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “My sister grew up to be a badass vampire with alpha blood.” He leaned in slightly. “Join me, and we’ll rule this world.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re killing people—”
“I’m killing those who deserve it!” His expression darkened, a shadow crossing his features.
“Not all vampires are guilty of what happened to your mother,” I shot back.
His jaw clenched. “Yes, they are!” His voice thundered through the room as he surged to his feet, stalking toward me with uncontained fury. “Werewolves, vampires, their so-called sacred laws! They’re all corrupt! And you—after everything—you still defend them?”
I swallowed hard before speaking again.
"Maybe I can't understand you... because I never even knew vampires existed when I was a child. I spent my whole life running—from wolves, from danger. That was all I knew." My voice remained measured, careful. I clung to the one rule that mattered: never provoke the psychopath.
Eamon took a slow step closer, a strange, almost affectionate smile curving his lips as he reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "Stay with me, Thalassa," he murmured. "Your big brother will keep you safe from now on."
A sickened shudder crawled through me. This man—this monster—had bathed in the blood of humans, vampires, and werewolves alike, all slaughtered in the name of his twisted sense of justice. And now, his hand was touching my face. He killed because he wanted to, because he believed that everyone bore responsibility for his suffering. And yet… we shared the same blood. We were bound by the lineage of Cassius Marwood.
That alone made him my family.
And for family, I was willing to make sacrifices—even if it meant ending his path of destruction myself.
Forcing a smile, I met his gaze and whispered, "I'll stay with you… if you promise to stop the killing. The wolves and vampires are at peace now. There's no need—"
"I need to kill the Vampire King," he interrupted, casually tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.
I froze.
A chill ran down my spine as my skin prickled with cold sweat. "Why… why would you need to kill him?" My voice came out unsteady, barely above a whisper.
Eamon scoffed, spreading his arms wide as if the answer were obvious. "Because you carry him here." He pointed directly at my heart. "As long as he lives, you’ll never be truly mine. You’ll always have someone else to turn to, someone else to fight for. But if I take him away…" His smile darkened. "Then you’ll have no one left. No choice but to rely on me."
My breath hitched. A cold, creeping dread coiled around my ribs.
"You're insane," I choked out.
"Not at all," he countered smoothly, his expression eerily calm. "You are the most important person in my life, Thalassa. More than anyone else. I will cherish you above all, and I will give you half the world when I rule it." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock sincerity, as if swearing an oath.
My stomach twisted. Desperately, I grasped for another way to shake him. "And what about Selene? Haven't you already chosen her to be your queen?" I asked carefully, watching his reaction.
Eamon sighed, running his tongue over his lower lip before smirking. "Selene?" He let out a low chuckle. "She’s a good fuck, nothing more. She was useful for a time, funding my little crusade, so I might keep her around for another year or two."
I narrowed my eyes. "She’s expecting more from you."
He shrugged, completely indifferent. "I don’t care what she hopes for. You’re the only one who matters."
My pulse pounded. "What do you really want from me, Eamon?" I gritted through my teeth.
His smirk widened. "Your blood."
I stiffened. "What?"
He tilted his head, watching me with amusement. "The hybrids I create are incomplete. They’re strong, yes, but mindless. They can’t shift between their human and hybrid forms. Your blood can change that." His eyes gleamed. "You’re a vampire with werewolf blood—a hybrid without the transformation. With you, we can create an army that no one could stand against."
"I will never help you," I snapped.
Eamon leaned in, his gaze burning into mine. "I never said you had a choice, Sister."
Then suddenly, something shifted. A scent—faint but unmistakable—curled into the room, setting my senses alight. My heart skipped, then pounded with a desperate, aching rhythm.
I turned instinctively, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. Searching for the source.
"Hadrian…" The name escaped my lips in a breathless whisper.
Eamon chuckled. "Right on time," he murmured.
From his pocket, he retrieved a small remote, lifting it with a flick of his wrist. With a quiet click, a hidden screen descended from the ceiling, humming to life.
And then I saw it.
A massive arena, brutal and industrial—a twisted, modern version of the Roman Colosseum. At its center stood Hadrian, stepping forward with measured grace, his presence undeniable even through the screen.
My chest constricted.
Eamon leaned close, his lips brushing against my ear. "Enjoy the show, Sister."
Then he turned and strode out, the heavy door slamming shut behind him with a metallic clang. The lock clicked into place.
"No!" I lunged after him, yanking at the handle, pounding my fists against the unyielding steel. "Let me out! You sick bastard, let me out!"
No answer.
I whirled back to the screen, breath shuddering.
Eamon was there now, stepping into the arena to face Hadrian.
Their duel was about to begin.