Chapter 30 Chapter 30

Chapter 30 Chapter 30
Vanessa

The sunlight felt like an insult.

Too bright. Too normal. Too unforgiving for what had happened the night before.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, just staring at myself, trying to convince my reflection that I was still in control of my own life.

But my eyes betrayed me.

There was something different there now.

Something marked.

Something that didn’t belong to me alone anymore.

I turned my head slightly.

My neck still burned faintly, not from pain anymore, but from memory.

A reminder I couldn’t wash off.

“I hate you,” I whispered to the empty room.

I didn’t even know if I meant Alaric.

Or fate.

Or myself for not being strong enough to stop it.

A knock came at the door again.

This time I didn’t jump.

“Go away,” I called flatly.

The door opened anyway.

Of course it did.

Emma.

She always acted like permission was optional.

She walked in holding a small tray, dressed perfectly as always, her hair curled like she was going to a royal tea party instead of a house full of blood and secrets.

Her eyes landed on me immediately.

Then on my neck.

And just for a second, her smile tightened.

There it was again.

That flicker.

Jealousy dressed up as concern.

“I brought you breakfast,” she said sweetly.

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“I know,” she replied, placing the tray down anyway.

She moved around my room like she owned it.

Like I was temporary.

Like she was permanent.

“I heard you had a rough night,” she added casually.

My jaw tightened.

“That’s funny. I don’t remember inviting you into my private nightmares.”

Emma laughed softly, as if I had told a joke.

“You’re sharp today.”

“I’m always sharp,” I said. “You just don’t like it when it’s aimed at you.”

That made her pause.

Just for a moment.

Then the mask slid back into place.

“I’m not your enemy, Vanessa.”

I turned to face her fully now.

“Then stop acting like one.”

Silence stretched between us.

Not comfortable.

Not peaceful.

Measuring.

Emma stepped closer to the bed, lowering her voice slightly.

“Alaric stayed outside your door for an hour last night.”

My chest tightened before I could stop it.

I hated that reaction.

“I didn’t ask,” I said quickly.

“But you care,” she replied softly.

That hit harder than I expected.

I forced a cold laugh.

“Care? About what? A man who thinks I’m property?”

Emma tilted her head.

“Is that what he thinks?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then she smiled again.

But it wasn’t warm this time.

It was careful.

Calculated.

“You really don’t understand him,” she said.

“And you do?” I snapped back.

Emma didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she picked up one of the cups on the tray and slowly stirred it.

“I’ve known Alaric a long time,” she said finally.

“That doesn’t mean you know him,” I replied.

Her eyes flicked up sharply.

Something darker flashed there now.

Then it vanished again.

“Drink your coffee,” she said, changing the subject too quickly.

I didn’t move.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be,” she insisted softly. “You need strength.”

“For what? More bonding rituals? More people biting me without permission?”

Her hand paused mid-stir.

Just for a second too long.

Interesting.

Too interesting.

I stepped closer.

“Tell me something, Emma,” I said quietly.

She looked up.

“Are you actually sick?”

The question hung in the air.

For a fraction of a second, her expression cracked.

Just a hairline fracture.

Then she smiled again.

“Oh Vanessa,” she sighed. “You always assume the worst.”

“I always notice the truth.”

She placed the cup down gently.

“Then you should be careful,” she said softly.

“Careful of what?”

Her eyes flicked toward the door.

“Of confusing your place in this house.”

I stared at her.

Something in my stomach twisted.

“My place?”

Emma smiled.

“Yes.”

Then she leaned in slightly.

“So don’t get ideas.”

The words were soft.

But sharp enough to cut.

Before I could respond, she turned and walked out like she hadn’t just dropped poison into the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And suddenly the silence felt heavier.

I exhaled slowly.

My hands were shaking.

Not from fear.

From rage.

Alaric

I found him in the study again.

Of course.

He was always there.

Always controlled.

Always unreachable.

I didn’t knock this time.

I just walked in.

Alaric looked up slowly from the papers on his desk.

His expression didn’t change.

Not even a flicker.

“You’re awake,” he said flatly.

I crossed my arms.

“You noticed.”

A pause.

His gaze moved briefly to my neck.

Then away again.

That alone annoyed me more than anything.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m something you own.”

A silence followed.

Cold.

Heavy.

Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.

“You rejected me,” he said calmly.

I froze.

“So now what?” I asked. “You punish me?”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“If I wanted to punish you, you would know.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl.

Not fear.

Something else I refused to name.

I stepped closer to his desk.

“I want boundaries,” I said firmly.

“You want control,” he corrected.

“I want freedom.”

A short, humourless laugh left him.

“You’re in my house, bound to my bloodline through a contract you agreed to under my protection.”

“That’s not freedom,” I shot back.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s survival.”

The word hung there.

Heavy.

Real.

I hated that it made sense.

I hated even more that he believed it.

He stood up slowly.

The movement was deliberate.

Controlled.

Every instinct in my body told me to step back.

I didn’t.

“I didn’t ask for this bond,” I said.

“And yet it exists,” he replied.

His voice dropped slightly.

“That is not something you override with emotion.”

“I’m not emotion,” I said sharply. “I’m a person.”

For the first time, something shifted in his expression.

Not softness.

Not weakness.

Something more like frustration.

“You don’t understand what you triggered last night.”

“I rejected you,” I said. “That’s what I did.”

His jaw tightened.

“You didn’t reject a man,” he said lowly. “You triggered something ancient.”

A chill ran down my spine.

Good.

Let it be ancient.

Let it burn.

“I don’t care,” I said.

But my voice wasn’t as steady anymore.

He stepped closer.

Not touching me.

Just invading space.

“You should,” he said quietly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The air between us felt charged again.

But not like last night.

This was different.

More controlled.

More dangerous.

Then a knock interrupted us.

Sharp.

Insistent.

Emma entered without waiting.

Of course she did.

She looked between us instantly.

Too quickly.

Too carefully.

“There you are,” she said softly, smiling at Alaric first.

Not me.

Never me.

“I was wondering where you went.”

Alaric’s expression didn’t change.

“I was working.”

Emma stepped closer to him like I wasn’t even in the room.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she said softly.

Ah.

There it was.

The performance.

The fragile voice.

The perfect timing.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Alaric’s gaze softened just slightly.

Not love.

Not romance.

Responsibility.

“I told you to rest,” he said.

“I tried,” she replied.

Her hand lightly touched his arm.

The gesture was small.

But it landed like a claim.

My stomach twisted.

Not jealousy.

Something sharper.

Realisation.

Emma didn’t just want him.

She needed to keep him anchored to her.

And I was a problem in that equation.

Her eyes flicked to me briefly.

And there it was again.

That quiet warning.

I looked away first.

Not because I was afraid.

But because I understood something now.

This wasn’t a love triangle.

It was a battlefield.

And I had just become a threat in a war I didn’t even start.