With every step he took, the air grew heavier, thick with something dark and suffocating. I wanted to call out to him, but my body felt drained, my voice barely a whisper in my own throat. My wrists ached from the restraints still digging into my skin, but I could only watch as Thorne moved toward the fallen scientist.
The man coughed weakly, pushing himself up from the wreckage of the shattered table. His gaze barely had time to register the danger before Thorne grabbed his collar, yanking him up with terrifying ease.
The scientist trembled.
Something was wrong.
The Thorne I knew—the man I loved—wasn't standing before me. His eyes were darker, his aura suffocating. He leaned in, whispering something too low for me to hear. Whatever he said made the scientist go pale, his lips parting in silent terror.
“Thorne…” My voice was weak, but he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.
In the blink of an eye, the scientist’s body was airborne, crashing onto the cold floor with a sickening thud. He groaned, curling in on himself like a wounded animal.
“Please… have mercy!” The scientist’s voice cracked as he crawled backward, desperate to escape.
Thorne didn’t flinch.
I tried again. “Thorne!”
Still, he wouldn’t listen. He grabbed the scientist by the collar once more, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. The air around him thickened, laced with something monstrous, something that told me—warned me—that I shouldn’t be here. That I needed to protect myself.
But I couldn’t move.
“You dared to touch my woman,” Thorne murmured, his voice chillingly even. “Draining her life for your twisted satisfaction.” His grip tightened. “And now you beg for mercy?”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“You can say that to your fucked-up, psycho brain,” he hissed, dragging the scientist effortlessly. The man struggled, his legs kicking against the floor, but Thorne didn’t stop.
He reached me, his expression softening as he loosened my restraints. My body sagged, too weak to stand. I tried, but my legs refused to obey. Without hesitation, he scooped me into his arms, cradling me gently—such a stark contrast to the ruthless force he had just shown.
Then, just as swiftly, he set me down against the cold stone floor.
I blinked up at him in confusion as he turned back to the scientist.
“Thorne, wait…” I tried again.
He paused, just for a second. His gaze met mine, softer now, but unreadable.
“Wait for me, sweetheart,” he murmured.
I swallowed. “Wait, what are you—”
But before I could finish, he was already walking away, his focus locked on the man who had restrained me, who had drained me like some kind of experiment.
Then, I saw it.
The glint of silver as he pulled a blade from his belt.
A lump formed in my throat. My body was too weak to move, my vision unsteady from the blood loss, but I knew.
This wasn’t just rage.
This was something darker.
“Cover your eyes, sweetheart,” Thorne said, his voice soft yet terrifying. “This may take a while.”
I didn’t want to. But my eyelids were already heavy, exhaustion dragging me under. My body had lost too much, my blood pressure falling.
“Th-Thorne…” His name barely left my lips before everything faded to black.
Thorne
His lips trembled, his hands weakly pushing against mine, desperate to stop the inevitable. A slow smirk curled on my lips as I swung my blade—his scream tore through the air, a sound that sent satisfaction humming through my veins.
One blade. That’s all it took to turn his life into a living nightmare.
"I beg of you…" His voice was barely a whisper, drowned in agony.
My blade dug deeper, carving through every vital nerve with precision. Every sharp thrust, every fresh wound, wrenched another scream from his throat—a melody of suffering that he deserved.
His breathing grew heavier, rasping between sobs and frantic prayers. Useless.
“How… How could a doctor kill like this?” he gasped, tears streaking his bloodied face.
I let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, I’m something worse.”
Another stab. Another scream. Music.
“Please! I’ll give you anything!” he pleaded, voice shaking. “Money, power—”
I twisted the blade. His body seized, his breath shuddering.
“Hey… I had the blood of that girl,” he wheezed, desperation bleeding into his words. “You could be anything with the money. That woman—her blood is rare. You and I, we could build a fortune with it.”
My grip tightened on the hilt. My jaw clenched.
Funny. This bastard thinks that I'm broke. 
I leaned in, close enough to watch terror flood his eyes.
“Do you really think I’m here because of that?” My voice was a low, dangerous whisper.
He flinched as I drove my blade into his leg, his blood pooling, sticky and warm against my skin.
“I’m here to kill every single one of you who dared to touch my woman.”
His lips parted, a trembling breath escaping, but I wasn’t done. I wouldn’t be done until his suffering matched hers.
“You tortured her without mercy.” I dragged the blade along his skin, slow, savoring the way his body twisted in pain. “I’m just returning the fucking favor.”
He smirked through the pain. Arrogant to the bitter end.
I smiled back—then buried my dagger deep into his artery.
His final scream echoed through the room before his body fell still. I turned, my gaze landing on Zaira’s unconscious form. Striding toward her, I checked her vitals, my fingers brushing against her wrist. A glass container sat nearby, filled with her extracted blood—too much.
Her vitals seemed stable, but I knew better. Low blood pressure, risk of hypovolemic shock. If I didn’t get her treated soon, things could turn critical.
Scooping her into my arms, I carried her into a secluded room, ensuring we were out of immediate danger. The earlier ambush had been a nuisance, but I’d handled it. Now, in the distance, an explosion rumbled through the fortress. Blackwell. Right on time.
Sticking to the plan was the safest move. But before I left, there was one more thing to take care of—a little fun with my dear student, Caden.
Later, I stayed with Zaira as she slept, keeping watch over her. I had done everything I could with the limited resources available—not enough to fully treat her, but enough to get her out of here alive. I sighed, the distant explosions still ringing through the fortress.
I had already memorized every pathway, every turn of Owain’s stronghold. There were only a few places Caden could be. I just had to find him.
A soft mumble pulled me from my thoughts. Zaira shifted, her body trembling, sweat beading along her skin. Her fever was rising. I immediately moved to her side, gently wiping her sweat away, my hand brushing over her forehead to comfort her until she finally stirred awake.
She opened her eyes, panic flickering in their depths until they landed on me. A sharp inhale, then a choked sob as she threw herself into my arms, clinging to me as if I might disappear. Her tears dampened my skin, her trembling body pressing against mine, fragile yet warm.
“Sweetheart…”
“I thought—” She hiccupped, voice breaking. “I thought something had happened to you.”
I let out a quiet exhale, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. My grip on her tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her that I was real, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” My voice was softer now, a contrast to the chaos outside. I cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to me. Even swollen and red-rimmed from crying, those winter-blue eyes still held a beauty that could unmake me.
“I-I had a dream… They caught you, Thorne. They took you and—they extracted you, like they did to me, and—”
“Shhh.” I ran a hand through her hair, my fingers threading through the strands as I soothed her. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, sweetheart. I’m here.” My voice dropped lower, rough with a quiet promise. “And I’m not leaving you behind. No one touches what’s mine.”
She sniffled, burying her face into my chest. My hold on her was firm, possessive. I could feel her heartbeat, still erratic, still shaken. Then my gaze landed on the side of her cheek—half-hidden beneath strands of hair, a bruise blooming against her fair skin.
Something dark stirred in me.
I gently tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the mark fully. My fingers ghosted over it, memorizing the shape of someone else’s violence on her. My jaw clenched.
“Who.” My voice was calm—too calm. “Who did this to you?”
Her fingers curled against my chest, hesitant.
I tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. My touch was careful, but there was no mistaking the steel behind my words.
“Tell me, Zaira.” My thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over her cheek—gentle, protective, yet edged with something dangerous.
"It's Caden," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He—he tried to harass me. I bit him, fought him off, but he slapped me."
Something sharp twisted in my chest. My jaw locked, my fingers twitching as the image of him putting his hands on her burned into my mind. My fists clenched at my sides, the air around me turning heavy with something lethal.
"He did." My voice was eerily calm, too controlled. I pulled her closer, my hold firm, grounding her against me even as my mind was already calculating just how I was going to make him pay.
I leaned in, pressing a slow kiss against her hair. "I promise you," I murmured, my voice dark with certainty. "He'll never touch you again."
A beat of silence.
Not after I'm done with him.
Another explosion rumbled in the distance, growing closer. I kept my eyes on her, steady, unyielding.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Blackwell and the others are out there, waiting for us. They’re getting closer, but so are the enemies.”
Zaira swallowed hard, fear flickering in her eyes.
“I need you to stick with me. No matter what happens, you don’t let go. I’m bringing you home.” My fingers tightened around her wrist for emphasis. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, but her worry was still there, lingering. I exhaled and pulled a small dagger from my belt, pressing it into her palm.
“If someone tries to take you—tries to hurt you—you don’t hesitate,” I said. “You drive this into them. Don’t be afraid to kill if it means staying alive.”
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. Good.
“This is war, sweetheart,” I murmured, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing over her bruised skin. “And we survive. Together. So I need you to be strong for me. Can you do that?”
Another nod. “I-I’ll do that” This one is more certain.
“Good girl.”
As the coast cleared, we slipped outside, staying low and alert. We were still far from the exits, and I had to take the safest, most direct route for Zaira. She needed medical attention, and every second mattered.
We moved quickly, taking turns through the ruined corridors, only to find ourselves back at the laboratory. My brows furrowed.
“Thorne, why are we here again?” Zaira asked, her voice laced with unease.
I exhaled sharply. “We took a wrong turn. Ended up circling back.” My gaze flickered to the glass container still filled with her blood.
“Should we destroy it?” she asked.
I gave her a small smirk. “That’s the plan.”
Stepping forward, I smashed the container, crimson liquid spilling across the cold floor. Satisfied, I turned back to her. “We need to move.”
The fortress trembled from another explosion. Smoke filled the air, and chunks of debris rained down. If we didn’t get out now, we’d be buried alive.
We pushed forward, navigating the collapsing structure. The way grew narrower, darker. Then, as we turned a corner, we stopped cold.
Soldiers.
Their eyes locked onto Zaira, and grins spread across their faces.
One lunged. I yanked Zaira behind me, my talent activating—red markers flashed over their vitals. In one fluid motion, I struck, slicing through the first enemy’s weak spot. He collapsed instantly.
Another soldier charged, his blade flashing. But it wasn’t aimed at me—it was going for Zaira.
I moved, but something yanked me down. The third attacker pinned me, dagger plunging toward my face. I twisted, barely dodging as the silver edge grazed my cheek. My eyes flickered to his vitals—there. With a quick thrust, I buried my blade into his side. He froze, stunned. I shoved him off and turned—
Zaira stood over a body, panting. The dagger I had given her was slick with blood.
The soldier at her feet twitched once, then went still.
She stared at the corpse, hands trembling, breath unsteady.
A slow smile tugged at my lips.
“That’s my girl.”
I gently pulled her away from the body. “Come on… We’re almost out.”
Zaira and I leave our way through the collapsing fortress, they finally reach what seems to be an exit. But just as they turn a corner, a familiar figure blocks their path.
Owain stands in the center of the hallway, untouched by the chaos around him. The dim light casts sharp shadows across his face, his expression unreadable. Behind him, several guards stand at the ready, weapons drawn.
Thorne immediately moves in front of Zaira, his grip tightening on his blade. His heartbeat is steady, but his rage simmers just beneath the surface.
“You’re making quite the mess, Thorne,” Owain says, his voice calm, almost amused. “Though I must admit, I expected nothing less from you.”
Thorne doesn’t respond, only studying his surroundings. The fortress is falling apart. Time is against them.
Owain’s gaze flickers to Zaira. “And you, dear girl… still breathing, I see. Impressive, considering how much of your blood is already on this floor.”
Zaira’s jaw tightens, but she stays silent. Thorne can feel the way she’s swaying slightly behind him. She’s weaker than she’s letting on.
“We’re leaving,” Thorne states, his voice sharp.
Owain chuckles, shaking his head. “Leaving? No, no. You’re exactly where you need to be. And since you came all this way, why don’t we settle this properly?”
With a slow, deliberate motion, Owain draws his own weapon—a blade sleek and polished, untouched by the battles waging beyond these walls.
Thorne exhales slowly, adjusting his stance. There’s no reasoning with him. No bargaining. This was always going to end in blood.
The fortress trembles as another explosion echoes in the distance. Smoke and dust swirl through the corridor.
Owain smirks. “Let’s see if you’re still as sharp as you used to be.”
Then, he lunges.
Excitement surged through me as I recognized the path. This was it—the way out. We quickened our pace, but just as freedom seemed within reach, a shadow loomed before us, cutting off our escape.
Owain.
His towering figure stood firm, blocking the exit like an immovable wall. I should have expected this. He wanted Zaira, and he’d already had her once. He wouldn’t let her go so easily.
This wouldn’t be simple. It never was.