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Chapter Twenty-Four

ISADORA

The sound of muffled ringing woke me. It echoed from somewhere below, shattering the house’s silence.

Lucien’s arm was still curled around my waist, his palm resting low on my belly.

His fingers moved in a slow, lazy pattern, even in his sleep.

We lay tangled in the bedsheets, and the room still smelled faintly of sex and bloodwine.

I wasn’t sure how much sleep we’d managed between our various—and pleasurable—activities, but it certainly didn’t feel like enough.

When neither of us moved, the ringing started again.

I groaned and burrowed deeper under the covers, reveling in the delightful feel of his warm, hard body pressed against mine.

“Is that your phone?” I mumbled to him. It had to be. No one knew my number except the man currently spooning me.

“More like a cursed object sent to ruin my life,” Lucien mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Yet another ring. Then another. Someone was persistent .

Lucien swore under his breath. “My clothes are all downstairs.”

“I remember,” I said, smiling into the pillow. “Along with mine.”

His fingers flexed against my stomach, and for one tantalizing second, I thought he might ignore the infernal device and kiss me instead. But the phone continued to ring.

With a resigned groan, Lucien finally pulled away from me and sat up. I immediately missed the feel of him. I turned over just as the blanket fell to his hips, and I memorized the sight of my very naked, very sexy vampire lover.

He caught me staring and groaned. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“And how, sir, am I looking at you?” I teased, biting my lip coyly.

Heat flashed in Lucien’s eyes. In a blink, he leaned down and captured my mouth in a kiss that made my toes curl. I wound my arms around his neck and clung to him, hoping I could keep him here with me.

Lucien pulled back, eyes half-lidded. I loved that I could put that look on his face, loved the effect I seemed to have on him. It was empowering.

Then the blasted phone rang again .

“Someone had better be dying,” he growled against my lips.

He begrudgingly rose from the bed and padded toward the door, naked and wholly unrepentant about it. I propped myself up onto my elbows, enjoying the view until it disappeared from sight, then flopped back against the pillows.

The ringing stopped.

Then came silence, but not the comforting kind. I listened for the sound of him returning to bed. But it never came.

In fact, the house seemed still , and not in a good way.

I sat up, wary, especially when I finally heard him speak, his voice distant but edged in steel. “What?”

A pause. Too long.

I slipped from the bed and wrapped a sheet around myself, my bare feet cold against the floor as I crept to the top of the stairs.

“Where?” Lucien suddenly demanded. That single word held such anger.

My stomach turned. I descended quietly. He stood at the foot of the stairs, phone still pressed to his ear, his entire body tense.

When he turned and saw me, his expression didn’t change. But his eyes—they burned. And not in the same way they’d burned a few moments ago.

“We’ll be right there,” he bit out before ending the call.

He lowered the phone and stared at me.

I clutched the sheet to my chest. “What is it?”

“It’s Thorne,” he said quietly.

Everything inside me went still. “What happened?”

“Someone attacked her. Rue found her a few blocks from the bar. She’s…” Lucien clenched his jaw, his voice deepening. “Izzy, she’s hurt.”

The hallway swayed. I immediately gripped the banister to keep from sinking to the floor. “What do you mean she’s hurt? How badly? Who attacked her?” My voice rose with the last question. “What happened?”

“I don’t have any other answers yet,” Lucien said gently. “But don’t worry, her brothers are with her, and they say she’s safe right now.”

He stepped onto the first stair and placed his hand over mine, steadying me. I immediately gripped his fingers for support, clinging to him for a whole other reason now.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

“At the Wolfe family estate.”

“Take me there.”

Lucien winced. “Izzy, I’m not welcome in that house.”

“Take. Me. There.” My voice was like ice. I refused to compromise on this, not when Thorne was hurt.

Lucien blinked, then nodded once. We hurried together me into the living room, where our clothes were strewn about in scattered piles. Suddenly, the warmth and the sense of safety I’d fallen asleep with was gone. Like it’d all just been a dream.

Dressing happened in a haze, but once we were clothed, Lucien hurried me outside into the biting cold night air. We climbed into the car, and Lucien sped through Eternity Falls like we were trying to outrun a monster.

“She was fine,” I whispered, more to myself than him. “Just a few hours ago. She was fine.”

Lucien didn’t respond.

My heartbeat kicked into overdrive the second we reached the Wolfe estate. The gates were already open—either done so by accident or in anticipation of our arrival, I couldn’t tell. Lucien didn’t stop to announce us. He merely sped up the drive without pause, tires crunching over gravel.

The house loomed ahead, lights on, shadows moving behind the curtains.

I unbuckled my seat belt before Lucien had even fully stopped the car. But before I could reach for the door handle, he snagged my hand.

“They won’t take kindly to me being here.”

“I won’t let them touch you,” I said before throwing open my door.

The gravel crunched beneath my shoes as I ran toward the entrance, Lucien close behind.

The distance from the car to the front steps was barely more than a few strides, yet it felt insurmountable.

Like I was dragging a boulder behind me with every step.

I barely raised my hand to knock when the front door swung open. A tall man in a dark suit stood framed in the doorway, shoulders squared. “He’s not welcome here.”

I didn’t slow. Didn’t flinch.

Instead, I lifted my chin and curled back my lips to expose my fangs. My very sharp, very lethal fangs.

“Move.” I truly didn’t care who I had to kill to reach Thorne’s side.

The man hardly spared me a glance, his eyes all for the vampire behind me.

With a savage growl, I shoved the butler aside, hard enough to make him stumble, then stormed through the door, pulling Lucien with me.

The moment we crossed the threshold, the sound of Thorne’s brothers shouting rose to my ears. They came from deeper in the house, and I instinctively headed in that direction.

“Sit down, goddammit!”

“Thorne, you are bleeding , for crying out loud!”

“I said sit down!”

I burst into the room and skidded to a halt.

Cassian was in full wolf form, massive and dark, his hulking body prowling in tight circles.

His fur bristled with every shout, his claws clicking against the marble floor.

From the looks of his snarling lips and enraged eyes, he was barely keeping it together.

Felix hovered between the couch and a window, hands clenched into fists, his chest heaving. Ricky paced in front of him, his hair wild and his shirt covered in blood— too much blood .

And in the center of it all, with her back to me, was Thorne.

She swayed slightly, clearly exhausted, but too stubborn to fall.

Blood soaked nearly every inch of her. It smeared her arms, pooled at her heels where she stood, dripped from her fingers.

A shredded jacket barely covered her, the back of it torn so badly, only strips clung to her shoulders.

And beneath it, I saw the outline of wounds—deep, ugly ones that hadn’t stopped bleeding.

She took a staggering step toward Ricky, tracking crimson footsteps with her.

Then another step. And another.

Ricky raised his hands, almost as though he was preparing to defend himself from his little sister.

“Thorne,” I whispered. Just her name. But that was all it took for the room to fall dead silent.

She stopped moving, as did everyone else. Her brothers all glanced my way, even Cassian. I’d never locked eyes with a werewolf in wolf form before and truly hoped I never did again. All I saw was a predator there.

Finally, Thorne turned.

And I gasped.

Someone had battered her face. She had a split lip, one eye was nearly swollen shut, and her cheek was bruised a sickly shade of purple. A jagged gash ran from her temple to her jawline, crusted in half-dried blood, and still seeping. But it wasn’t her injuries that stole the breath from my lungs.

It was her eyes.

They glowed. And not golden like Cassian’s. Nor her natural brown.

They shone a violent, seething crimson. I’d never seen anything like that before.

“Thorne,” I whispered again, my heart breaking.

Her lips parted, and for a second, I thought she might speak. But instead, she smiled. A crooked, too-wide smile that stretched her already bleeding mouth.

I shuddered, then told myself to knock it off. My friend needed me. She needed to lie down so we could address her wounds. I couldn’t wilt like a precious flower. Thorne’s blood-slicked smile widened, like she was genuinely pleased to see me.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “I’m here, and you’re hurt. So, let us?—”

Thorne’s head tilted just slightly. And then, in a voice that very much did not belong to her, she said, “Hello, little dove.”

I froze mid-step. The voice was low. Male. And familiar in a way that made my skin crawl.

Thorne’s brothers all went stiff, their eyes turning to their little sister, and their expressions stricken with horror.

“I’ve been looking for you,” the voice cooed. It was too smooth, too calm. “You really shouldn’t have run. You know how much I hate chasing you.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Because I knew that voice.

“Trystan,” I said, ice in my veins.

He grinned using Thorne’s mouth. “Still sharp.”

My knees buckled, but I wouldn’t let myself fall apart. Not in front of him . I had no idea how Trystan had done it, but he was using Thorne’s body as a conduit. Magic, I suspected. It was the only explanation.

My eyes fluttered shut for a brief second while I composed myself. Lucien moved behind me, his weight a comforting presence. But the movement attracted Trystan’s attention. He slitted Thorne’s eyes and shot Lucien a scathing glare.

“Let her go,” I demanded, grateful my voice held steady. “She is not your personal toy.”

His eyes snapped back to me. “No, but she’s yours, isn’t she?” Trystan said. Her gory smile stretched, like her face was being yanked in two directions. “I just couldn’t resist meeting your new friend. I enjoyed playing with her.”

Ricky surged forward. “Get the fuck out of her.”

I raised my hand to stop him. “He wants a reason to hurt her. Don’t give him what he wants.”

“Or do,” Trystan said, laughing. “It’ll be fun.”

Pure, unadulterated loathing lit within me. “You’re a coward,” I spat. “Using her like this. But that’s who you are, isn’t it? A coward? You use people to get what you want. To make yourself feel big.”

“Careful, Isadora,” Trystan warned. “Or I might not give her back to you.”

Cassian snarled. Loudly.

I bared my fangs. “You think your threats scare me? You think crawling inside someone I love will make me run?”

“No, I think hurting the ones you love will force you to run,” he stated coldly. “You forget, my love. I know you. I know your heart and your weaknesses. You won’t let me hurt anyone on your behalf.”

“You don’t know me,” I said. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, my sweet. No one knows you better. Not that pitiful vampire at your back. Not these useless werewolves surrounding you. They don’t know the real you.

But I do.” His voice dropped to a rasp. “She bled so easily, Isadora. I expected more of a fight, especially from a werewolf. And she screamed. Oh, did she scream. It was exquisite.”

My stomach lurched and my hand gripped Lucien’s without so much as thinking about it.

Trystan noticed the movement, and his expression darkened. His eyes caught mine and fury blazed within. “Come back to me, and I won’t hurt anyone else. Choose to stay in Eternity Falls and I will kill the next person I find.”

He tilted Thorne’s head, eyes meeting mine before he lifted them to Lucien behind me.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be someone you truly care about. And maybe next time, I won’t be as gentle. Tick tock, little dove. Tick tock.”

Then, like a switch flipped, the red light in Thorne’s eyes went out, and she collapsed. Ricky dove forward just in time to catch her before she hit the ground, cradling her limp body.

Felix moved to their sides, horror etched in every line of his face. Cassian immediately shifted back into human form, visibly shaken as he knelt—thankfully in tattered shorts—next to his sister.

I stood frozen, barely breathing.

Lucien wrapped a protective arm around my waist. “Izzy…”

I slowly stepped out of his reach and moved forward, approaching Thorne. With a deep breath, I knelt beside her and brushed her blood-matted hair from her face. She was unconscious, thankfully. But her skin burned with a fever and her breathing was shallow.

I pulled the remnants of her jacket off so we could see her wounds and choked on a breath the second I saw it.

Carved along the curve of her ribs, just above the blood and bruising, were the words: YOU’RE STILL MINE .

Pain tore through me so fast, it rendered me breathless.

I simply sat there and stared at the message etched into my friend’s flesh.

And I made myself a promise. I wouldn’t give Trystan the opportunity to strike again. He wanted me? He’d get me. Every inch of me. But he wouldn’t live to enjoy a second of it.

Because for this, I would kill him.