"Mia!" Ella calls out in excitement at the first sight of her. She jogs through the open balcony of the flat house and throws her arms around Mia's startled frame, the sudden embrace easing the moment of recognition. Mia stiffens for a second before returning the hug just as warmly.
After a heartfelt embrace, they pull away and walk toward a sofa big enough to accommodate three. A transparent coffee table sits low in front of them, holding a few remote controls and a fruit bowl.
"I'm so happy to see you. I thought he did something to you," Mia exclaims, a mix of joy and worry in her voice. After their last separation, she heard rumors from the men around her that their boss had killed the girl he took. The news had made her sick with fear, but now, seeing Ella safe and in the flesh, she finally breathes a sigh of relief.
"Of course I'm fine. But tell me, how have you been?" Ella asks, observing Mia's flat smile and the simple nod she gives, as if the question isn't necessary.
"Did he hurt you? Did he do anything to you?" Mia's voice grows heavier as she searches the room for John. He stands at the small bar counter a few feet away, brushing stray drops of dark red wine from his lips before taking another slow sip from a short, see-through, handleless glass.
"Don't look at me," John says defensively when he meets Ella's piercing stare, her eyes blazing with fury, as if she could burn him alive with a single glance.
"If you don't believe me, ask her," he adds when she refuses to break her glare.
"Don't be afraid. Tell me, did he hurt you?" Ella asks gently, giving Mia's hands a reassuring pat. Her ears are keen for any sign of wrongdoing, and if he dared to harm her friend, she would make him pay, no matter the cost.
"Ell, stop being paranoid. Sir John did nothing but good to me," Mia says firmly.
"Sir John?" Ella's brows lift in curiosity, her gaze locked onto her friend, waiting for an explanation.
Her mind races. Are they in some sort of relationship?
No. That's impossible.
She's only known him for a few days...
Ella's eyes flick between John and Mia, suspicion thick in her stare. They wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare.
"Seal it. Whatever you're thinking, keep it to yourself. There's nothing between us. I'm only being kind to her because I was obligated to," John defends, reading the suspicion in Ella's sharp gaze. He knows exactly what she's thinking, and he wants to shut it down before it takes root. He doesn't want her assuming the worst of him, or worse, believing he would prey on her friend when the only woman in his stubborn heart is her.
"Steffen ordered you?" Ella asks, certain that only he could give such a command strong enough to compel John against his will. No one disobeys the king.
"Who else do you think did?" he replies sarcastically, his eyes drifting away as he exhales a sigh. He pours himself another round, letting the rich red liquid swirl in the glass.
"But why?" Ella presses, forcing his eyes back to her.
Why?
Because of you, John wants to say, but the words remain trapped in his throat. He can't let her believe Steffen's concern is what should draw her to him. He doesn't want her heart softening toward the king simply because he cares about her and those she loves.
"That's enough for today. We should be getting back," he states, rising to his feet. A sudden realization hits him, he never asked the king's permission to take her out. If Steffen finds out... a cold chill slithers down his spine.
"But we just got here! I still have a lot to talk with her," Ella grumbles, but John tunes out her protest.
"It's already been an hour. If the king realizes you're gone, I'll be the one in trouble, not you. So let's go peacefully, or I'll be forced," he warns, a devious smirk curving his lips before he swiftly lifts her over his shoulder. Ignoring her protests, he strides to the car and sets her down obediently.
"You should go. You don't have to worry about me. I'm being well taken care of, and if I need anything, I'll contact you," Mia assures her.
"He gave you your phone?" Ella asks, surprised by John's unexpected generosity. Maybe he isn't as cruel as she thought.
"Yes, he gave it to me," Mia replies, throwing a grateful glance at John, who brushes it off with a casual it's nothing.
"Lucky you. Mine was destroyed by a monster," Ella mutters, shooting a glare at John, resentment burning in her eyes. It had taken her five missions to get that phone, and he had crushed it like it was worthless.
Curse him. Curse him. Curse him. She seethes in silence.
"If you two really want to stay in touch, she can call the king's palace landline," John offers, clearly eager to end the conversation.
"Fine," Ella sighs, rising to her feet. She pulls Mia into a tight hug, holding on just long enough to satisfy her heart before finally letting go.
...
Back at the castle, Steffen summons one of his council members to consult on the precarious situation at hand.
"Thanks for coming on such short notice," King Steffen says to Mistress Lily, who offers a polite, knowing smile in return.
They stand in the castle's vast green field, surrounded by plants of all kinds, most notably the roses, just on the verge of blooming. A soft breeze stirs their fragrance, but the beauty of the garden does little to ease the urgency in Steffen's chest.
"Did you find anything?" he asks, his voice sharp with concern.
Ever since the strange incident, when Ella's wound somehow mirrored onto his own, his anxiety has only deepened. Calling Mistress Lily, head of the White Witches, is his only option. She holds knowledge few others possess, the ancient lore preserved in the Book of Genesis, safeguarded by her kind after the centuries-long war between vampires and wolves.
"It is called swêê," she explains, her tone steady but grave, "a curse placed upon the first Alpha who rejected his mate. It is the Creator's punishment. His life becomes bound to hers. Whatever harm or pain she suffers, he suffers as well. The curse forces recognition of the mate, and it never fades. Centuries have passed, and no other case has been recorded, until now."
Steffen's jaw tightens. What kind of cruel curse is this?
"So... I could die if she dies?" His voice is sharp, but beneath it lurks a chill of unease, as if he already knows the truth.
"There's a probability to that," Lily replies. "But what am sure of" she continues "Every pain she feels, you bear as well. Just as you did when she fell."
Memories of that sharp, inexplicable pain flash across his mind, and his fists clench at his sides.
"Is it breakable?" he asks, a flicker of dread tightening his brows as he searches her face for hope.
"The curse is unbreakable... at least by ordinary means," Lily replies, her tone steady but grim. "Only one being can undo it, the Great Mystery Witch. Her identity is unknown, and no trace of her energy has been sensed in decades. It is as if she vanished from existence entirely."
Steffen exhales through clenched teeth, frustration and determination burning in equal measure. If the curse cannot be undone, the only way to survive is to protect Ella.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," Abi's voice falters from behind, interrupting their conversation. "Ella... I mean, Her Highness... she's not in her room," she stammers, each word trembling under the weight of the moment.
Steffen's eyes snap to Abi, sharp and piercing. "Meaning?!" His voice booms across the garden, carrying a tremor of controlled panic. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, wrong enough to make his blood run cold.
Abi swallows hard, unable to meet his gaze. "I... I don't know, Your Majesty. I only noticed her absence just now. She's nowhere to be found," she admits, her hands trembling. The weight of her failure crushes her, and she can't hide it.
Steffen wastes no time. He storms through the palace, each step a hammer against the marble floors, searching room after room with a fury that rattles the air.
Her scent is gone.
His chest tightens, every muscle coiling with dread.
Within seconds, he is outside, sharp eyes sweeping over his guards. "Where is she?!"
Fear freezes them, but one finally steps forward. "Alpha John compelled us to let her out," the guard admits, knowing silence could cost him his life.
Steffen's body stiffens. "John," he growls, low and dangerous.
Then a lancing pain slices through his chest. His breath falters. His fingers clutch over his heart, but it's not his heartbeat.
It's hers.
Ella's pulse. Rapid, erratic, trembling.
She is in danger.
Every ounce of her fear, every shiver coursing through her veins, strikes him like fire.
And he is too far away to stop it.
Meanwhile, John and Ella are driving when a sudden ambush halts them. Men emerge from the shadows, surrounding the car, their faces marred by scars, tattoos, and hardened expressions. Some linger in the trees, others step into plain sight, weapons glinting under the fading light.
Ella's gaze fixes on one man in particular.
The one at the center.
At first, he seems polite, almost harmless, but closer inspection reveals the truth. Beneath the calm exterior lies darkness. Something dangerous.
His sharp, cat-like eyes glint with malice. A scar cuts across his face, dangerously close to his eye, a silent testament to a violent past.
"Teslime," John mutters, voice tight with grim recognition.
His mind races. They are outnumbered, ambushed, and their leader is Teslime, a man whose hatred for Steffen runs deep and personal.
Ella stiffens instinctively.
John doesn't need to explain. She knows. Teslime's mate was killed by Steffen, and now standing before him is Steffen's mate.
John prays he hasn't caught the scent, that he doesn't recognize the king's mark on her.
If he does... she's as good as dead.
And John? John will answer to Steffen for failing to protect her.
Then Teslime's lips curl into a slow, devious grin.
"You have his scent," he says, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "You're his mate."
John's stomach drops.
Ella freezes, every breath caught in her chest.
Teslime's smile widens, the promise of vengeance clear.
An eye for an eye.