Page 5 of Marked (Wicked Heirs #1)

Whispers slithered through the darkness as I stood in the dim cast of moonlight that seeped through the heavy curtains and into my room. My hands shook as I carefully covered the mirrors with thick fabric, shrouding them from sight, but not from my mind.

The echoes of the voice from the library vibrated through my thoughts.

“Please, leave me alone,” I whispered. It seemed as though every step I took in the opulent mansion was being watched—but why? And by whom?

The nights were the worst, as the silence of the estate seemed to amplify my thoughts and fears. I often wandered through the labyrinthine corridors, searching for something—solace, companionship, answers? I couldn’t decide.

But all I found were cold walls and colder shadows.

I wanted desperately to visit the library again, but the memory of my encounter in that strange room haunted me and I couldn’t bring myself to go back.

I’d never thought about the darker aspects of the magic the Sages used, but the books in that collection celebrated it… Reveled in it.

The days passed in a gray blur, and the monotony was only broken by the sound of motorcycles in the depths of the night.

Who were the riders?

But more importantly— Where was my mother? I had knocked on the door to her chambers more than once since our arrival, but she never answered, and the door was always locked.

Was she there? Or was I truly alone?

As the clock in the hallway struck midnight, driven by a restlessness I couldn’t shake, I ventured into the heart of the manor—the grand ballroom. Dominated by a colossal chandelier, its dusty crystals cast a thousand reflections of muted moonlight across the room. It was more like a mausoleum than a place for revelry.

As I pulled my sweater snugly about my trembling shoulders and continued further into the vast expanse, a sudden clatter echoed from behind.

I spun around, heart hammering in my chest—but there was no one there.

You’re being paranoid again. The thought shuddered through my mind. There’s nothing there.

But even as I tried to convince myself of this, an icy breeze sliced through the room and made me gasp. The grand chandelier above began to swing, gently at first. But the movement was ominous in its delicacy and strange shadows danced across the marble floor.

As I watched them stretch and darken, they seemed to take shape—three figures, large, twisted and terrifying as they extended their claws toward me, intent on consuming me…

“No,” I choked out and staggered away from the creeping darkness.

Despite every instinct screaming for me to flee this haunted room, I found myself drawn towards the center where an antique piano stood. Its ebony surface gleamed beneath the erratic moonlight. Hesitantly, I reached out and pressed a key, and a melancholic note resonated in the space—sour and out of tune.

Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps echoed in the grand ballroom, causing me to freeze. My blood turned to ice and my heart hammered against my chest as I sought refuge behind one of the massive velvet curtains.

“Did you hear something?”

That voice.

I peered around the edge of the curtain and held my breath. Standing beneath the swinging chandelier was a tall man with broad shoulders, dressed head to toe in leather—motorcycle gear? I could only guess. His icy eyes scanned the room with a predatory intensity and his jet-black hair fell over his forehead. His movements were chillingly languid as he moved closer.

My pulse quickened as I took in his profile—sharp, regal. His lips curved into a cruel smile, and my heart squeezed tight in my chest.

“Titus.” Another voice echoed in the darkness and I shrank back.

A second figure stepped into the moonlight that bathed the room with its ghostly pallor.

His tousled brown hair and enigmatic stare gave him an alluring yet dangerous presence. He was just as tall as the first man, but his frame was lithe compared to the hulking figure beside him.

“It must have been the wind,” he said, but his eyes were fixed on the instrument in the center of the room, and suspicion narrowed his gaze.

Titus snorted, his icy eyes glinting in the dim light. “Wind doesn’t play the piano.”

The second man let out a low laugh and stepped toward the instrument. His leather boots echoed ominously in the silence. He shot a brief glance around the room before pressing a single key.

The same sour note I had played hung heavy in the air, and I held my breath as both men fell silent. They stood there for a moment that seemed like eternity, their gazes locked on each other in an unspoken tension.

Suddenly, Titus turned sharply towards where I hid behind the curtain and I ducked back behind it.

The dark pressure of their power lapped at my consciousness, and I wondered if they knew I was there.

“We’re going to be late,” another voice snapped. The third voice echoed through the ballroom and I wondered for half a second if I’d heard it before— “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Titus snapped. “Let’s go.”

The sound of their retreating footsteps echoed in the cavernous ballroom and I held my breath, pressing myself against the thick curtain, willing myself to remain unseen. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud that reverberated through the silent room.

I peered out from my hiding place once more. The shadowy figures were gone, leaving me alone in the grand ballroom once more. Relief washed over me, but the reality that I was not alone in this house cut it short.

Lucian’s sons had as dark a reputation as their father—I had held out the vain hope that I could avoid them, or that somehow they wouldn’t be present at Withermarsh… but I’d been mistaken.

The Romano brothers were here, and I was under their gaze.

I moved away from the curtain, my legs wobbly beneath me.

The silence pressed in on me as I shivered in the icy cold room. Despite the moment of terror, something about their presence stirred a strange longing within me.

The chandelier above me tinkled softly, and I glanced up at it.

The crystals, still swinging gently back and forth, shimmered in the moonlight. Then, with a suddenness that made my heart leap, one crystal detached from the chandelier and plunged sharply toward the ground. A second later, it collided with the marble floor in an explosion of glass and light.

I jumped back with a small cry, my eyes fixed on the shards of crystal that scattered over the floor. The glow of moonlight flickered in the pieces and then faded away. I looked back up at the chandelier, transfixed, waiting for another one to fall.

Silence filled the room, oppressive in my ears.

And then the crystals moved again, tinkling softly.

My breath hitched, and I watched as more crystals followed suit—one after another.

They fell like shooting stars, and each collision echoed through the cavernous room.

The sound was almost musical—strangely beautiful, yet inherently terrifying.

I was frozen in place, my gaze fixed on the spectacle above me. But then, as quickly as it had begun, it ceased. The room dipped into a silence that was only broken by the faint ringing of the fallen crystals.

I stood there for several moments longer, staring at the shattered pieces of glass that glittered on the ballroom’s floor.

Suddenly overcome with a sense of dread, I backed toward the door.

The fading echo of the shattered crystals reverberated in my head and finally I tore my gaze away from the glittering shards and hurried towards the door.

A sense of foreboding followed me through the darkened halls, each shadowy corner posing another potential threat. The whispering wind was my only company—the eerie stillness only amplified my dread further.

Without knowing where I was walking, or what pushed me through the dark corridors, I found myself back in the foyer of the gloomy mansion. My boots clicked softly on the marble floor and echoed through the vast space. The grand staircase loomed ominously ahead, winding up into darkness. I gripped the banister as if my life depended on it as I climbed to the second floor.

Once I reached the top, I glanced back over my shoulder at the eerie view below me. I sensed three figures observing me from each shadowy corner of the mansion. I shook off the feeling and forced myself to turn away. I would be safe in my room. Away from them.

My room was at the end of a long corridor lined with menacing portraits of the Romano lineage that seemed to leer at me as I passed by, and I kept my eyes averted as I ran for the sanctuary that awaited me.

With trembling hands, I pushed open my bedroom door and entered. I breathed a small sigh as my gaze tracked over the shrouded mirrors and the heavy curtains drawn tightly over the windows.

The only light in the room came from the dim lamps I’d left lit before I’d gone exploring. It was comforting and warm, something I missed about being away from Messana Academy. Nothing here was warm or bright.

Everything at Withermarsh was shadowy and gray.

Eternally bleak.

A shiver ran down my spine as I crossed the room and sank onto the edge of my bed. The softness of the mattress beneath me did little to comfort my frayed nerves as my mind spun with thoughts about Lucian Romano’s sons—those dark figures that had loomed ominously in the ballroom. Their voices echoed in my mind like a haunting melody. Titus’s icy gaze was cold against my skin even from a distance; Valen’s enigmatic presence stirred an unnerving curiosity within me. And that third voice... I had heard it before… But I didn’t know where.

The fear was stifling, but what truly unnerved me was the undercurrent of arousal that had flooded through me during our brief encounter. I could still feel it lingering, a strange pull toward their darkness that both frightened and enticed me. I shook my head to push the memory of their darkness away.

I didn’t need to know them to understand that they were dangerous—they were their father’s sons, after all; and their presence here only meant trouble for me.

Other things worried me, too.

The voices in the library. The shadows that moved over the mirrors in my room.

The crystal chandelier tinkling softly above my head and then shattering, showering shards of glass like rain upon the marble floor.

I still had no idea what had caused it…

Was it an omen? A warning?

I drew in a deep breath, pushed myself off the bed, and walked across the room to the windows that looked out over the gardens. I pulled one of the heavy curtains back and winced at the harsh beam of moonlight that flooded into the room and illuminated particles of dust in its silvery glow. As I looked out over the gloomy grounds of Withermarsh, it was impossible to shake the feeling that I was being watched... a prickling sensation that crept up my spine.

I let the curtain fall back into place and did my best to shake off my worry and fear as I dressed for bed. But when I crawled beneath the heavy coverlet and lay there in the dark listening to nothing but my own ragged breathing, sleep seemed elusive. In the darkness, the roar of motorcycles ripped through the silence and I held my breath as the sound filled the air—and then faded away into nothingness once more.

I shuddered under the blankets and tried to think of anything but the leather-clad men who lived in this house. Lurking and stalking the halls.

But when every creak of the old house made my breath catch... when each gust of wind whistling through the eaves echoed like whispers in the night...

Sleep was unthinkable.

I’d read the same paragraph in my book for the fourth time before I lowered my head with a groan.

“Why am I even bothering?” I moaned into the pages.

There was no point in memorizing anything—my mother had made it clear enough that I wouldn’t be applying to any colleges, and my dream of becoming a Sage?

Impossible.

I hadn’t even practiced any of my spells since we’d come here. Even though the mansion seemed to crackle with magic, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But for some reason, I was still holding onto some of my old academy habits. I always used to lay on my bed, pretending to study, before I would inevitably fall asleep on my books.

“And for what?” I mocked myself.

A knock on the door startled me, and I almost fell off the bed as I scrambled to get up.

The door opened and a stone-faced servant peered into the room. She didn’t make eye contact with me, but somehow I knew she was judging the state of it. I wasn’t messy by any means, but I’d been feeling… resentful about my whole situation, and it wasn’t exactly clean.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I forced a smile onto my face.

“Hi—”

“Miss Velez,” the woman said in a flat tone. “Dinner will be served in an hour.”

“I— Thanks. I’ll just take it up here—”

The woman frowned. “Your presence has been requested,” she snapped.

“Oh— I— Thank you,” I choked out. “What— What do I wear?”

The woman’s eyes swept over me and a chill rippled across my skin. “Not that,” she replied. “Do not be late.”

“Okay—”

Fuck.

The door closed, and I rushed over to the wardrobe. What the hell was I supposed to wear? Who had requested my presence? Was it my mother? Why didn’t she come and get me herself?

After rummaging through the collection of elegant designer clothing. None of it was appropriate for a dinner with… family? It was all too fancy, or too revealing. After an agony of searching, I settled on a simple dark green dress that covered enough skin but still hinted at a sophistication I definitely didn’t feel. The fabric was soft and light, and a pattern of snake scales undulated over it under the dim light.

I frowned as I studied my reflection in the mirror that hung on the inside of the wardrobe—the one mirror I hadn’t covered. I looked nothing like the awkward student from Messana Academy, and much more like a woman—like my mother.

“Not quite like me,” she would say.

I brushed my hair until it shone under the warm glow of the lamps, then decided to leave it down, letting its chestnut waves cascade over my shoulders. The neckline of the dress dipped lower than I would have liked, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The servant had made it clear that I had limited time to prepare. As I slipped into a pair of black heels that were surprisingly comfortable, movement in the mirror caught my eye—I bit back a gasp as I jumped back and slammed the wardrobe door shut.

No way.

I shook my hands briskly to distract from what I thought I’d seen and walked across the room toward the vanity.

There were too many shadows here. I was imagining it.

I grabbed my makeup bag off the vanity and pulled out my compact. Without paying too much attention to my reflection, I quickly swept some mascara onto my lashes and some gloss onto my lips before I threw the bag onto the bed.

The muffled chime of the clock in the hallway made me rush to the door. Almost time.

I wrenched open the door and stepped into the hallway—why was it always so cold in the house? My steps were tentative, and my heart hammered so hard against my ribs that I thought it might burst.

The walk downstairs felt longer than it should have, and my footsteps echoed ominously through the long corridor.

My mind raced with thoughts of my new family. Would I be expected to call Lucian ‘father,’ or his sons my brothers? It seemed ridiculous. They were so much older than me—

I didn’t even know how old Lucian was.

Did my mother know?

Dark magic stops the effects of aging—interrupts the flow of time—he could be ancient.

I bit down hard on my lip and approached the dining room with steady steps. The door was open, and I heard voices inside .

Laughter.

Had they started without me?

Another ripple of dark laughter. Rich and deep.

No… Titus and his brothers were there.

Fear gripped me with icy fingers, but I forced myself to keep walking.

As I neared the entrance to the grand dining hall, a peculiar sensation crawled over my skin—a simmering wave of conflicting energies that danced alongside the throbbing pulse of darker magic that ran through Withermarsh.

It was visceral and unsettling and my throat was tight as I stood in front of the door.

As the laughter increased in volume, I pushed the heavy mahogany door open to reveal a scene straight out of a nightmarish fairytale. Several crystal chandeliers, suspended from high ceilings, bathed the room in an unearthly glow, and their flickering light cast long, grotesque shadows against the ancient stone walls. A long table sat in the center of the room, draped in gilded cloth.

Titus and his brothers, seated at the table, were absorbed in conversation and threw their heads back in laughter at some shared joke.

As I stepped into the room, the brother at the end of the table noticed me first, his pale eyes following my progress. His appearance was disarmingly angelic: unruly blond hair framed a face that seemed almost innocent—but his eyes… His eyes were cold and calculating. Like a predator watching prey.

“We have a guest,” he said smoothly.

Titus turned toward me, his dark brow raised slightly. His chiseled jaw was tight and his eyes were as icy as they swept over me.

The third man ran a hand through his unruly mahogany hair and braced his elbow on the table as he stared at me, the hunger in his dark eyes was clear as his gaze swept over me. I stiffened as the subtle pressure of their magic reached out for me.

Dangerous.

“I—I’m not here to cause trouble,” I stammered, trying to steady my trembling hands.

Silence fell over the room.

“You have such lovely eyes, Avril,” the second man said as he leaned forward to study me. “What do they remind me of—”

“Deer in the headlights,” the cherub said with a cruel smile.

“That’s enough,” Titus interjected, though his tone held no real reprimand.

“Perhaps you’d like some music?” the second man suggested. His dark eyes gleamed with malevolence as he continued to stare at me, and shadowy fingers seemed to slither up my arm and over my shoulder toward my neck. “I hear you play the piano—”

“I— I don’t play the piano,” I whispered as I tried to look away.

This was a mistake.

A giant fucking mistake.

I should have said that I was sick.

I should have stayed in my room.

“Such a shame,” the second man sighed mockingly. “We could have had such delightful entertainment.”

I licked my lips quickly. For once, I decided to fight back. If only a little.

“ Invocare protegat ,” I whispered, focusing my magic. The sigil of protection came easily to mind, but my breath hitched as I traced it in my mind. A strangled laugh almost distracted me as I muttered the incantation again.

Focus.

“Valen— Can you believe it?” the cherub at the end of the table sneered.

I could feel the weight of his eyes on me—piercing and cold .

“You’re trying to protect yourself, aren’t you?” He swung his boots off the table and stood. “Pathetic.”

“Leave her be, Bastian,” Valen drawled and his eyes raked over my body with unbridled hunger. “She’s just scared, like a frightened little bird.”

“Enough!” Titus commanded. “Let’s see if she can do it. Come on, little bird. Finish the sigil. I can see it in your mind.”

I swallowed hard and raised my hand. My fingers shook as I traced the sigil in the air in front of me, hoping it would provide some semblance of safety. The pale blue glow shimmered in the air and I held my hand beneath it, palm up, cradling it as I gathered my power.

“Cast it then,” Bastian taunted, smirking as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Your spells are weak,” Valen said softly, his gaze still locked on me. “You think this… gentle magic will stop us?”

I closed my eyes tight, flexed my hand, and released my magic—but I could already feel it failing and I opened one eye and watched in dismay as the pale blue glow flickered and sparked weakly before vanishing altogether.

My heart sank, and I was humiliated and exposed. I couldn’t bear to look at them, fearing the mockery I would find in their eyes.

“See?” Bastian sneered. “Weak.”

“Please,” I whispered.

“Oh— I like it when she begs,” Valen said.

“Perhaps you should learn some humility,” Bastian said coldly, his voice devoid of any sympathy. “You’ve been given a gift that you don’t deserve.”

He uncrossed his arms and held one hand in front of himself as he muttered words I didn’t understand. Black smoke twined around his fingers as he summoned his power —

How could he do it so easily? I had never been able to do anything like that.

“What— What are you doing—” I stammered.

“Bastian,” Titus’ voice held a warning, but a smile curved over Bastian’s full lips as he glared at me.

As if fate had finally taken pity on me, the door to the room swung open, revealing Lucian and Julia standing in the doorway.

I spun around and my heart dropped at their sudden appearance—but when I saw the reactions of my future step brothers, I couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Lucian raised a hand and Bastian stumbled back as if someone had struck him.

“Leave her,” Lucian commanded, his tone icy and dangerous. Valen’s smirk vanished, replaced by an expression of calculated neutrality, and Bastian tugged at his leather jacket to straighten it as he grudgingly backed away, while Titus merely inclined his head.

The door closed behind Lucian and Julia with a resonating thud that echoed in the hushed room.

I felt the color drain from my face as I was left standing alone once again in front of the table. My knees felt like they were about to buckle beneath me.

“We were just getting to know each other, father.” A thin veil of resentful obedience covered Bastian’s voice.

Years of cynicism and wielding power had chiseled a hardened expression onto Lucian’s face, but it was impossible to deny that he was handsome.

“I doubt your intentions were that impeccable,” Lucian retorted in a voice filled with acerbic disdain.

He turned around without sparing them another glance and strode toward his chair at the head of the table. My mother followed behind and a strange pang pierced my side as she looked me up and down and I recognized something like jealousy in her eyes.

“Avril,” Lucian said with a smooth smile as he held out a chair for my mother, “won’t you take a seat?”

As Julia settled into her chair, I scrambled for the only other empty seat.

I stared down at my shaking hands, wishing I could be anywhere else.

Traitor.

A whisper in my mind that filled me with fear, but the voice was familiar now.

I looked toward the end of the table and met Bastian’s stony stare.

They were all looking at me.

All three Romano brothers.

And I was trapped here with them.