Elena didn't sleep that night.
The letter sat on her desk like a living thing, its dark wax seal gleaming faintly in the candlelight. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined what might be written inside—promises of power, threats of war, names of people she'd never heard of but who could decide her fate.
And always, Adrian's smile hovered in her mind, daring her to uncover what he'd kept hidden.
By dawn, she couldn't resist any longer.
Her hands trembled as she broke the seal. The parchment unfolded with a sigh, the ink inside sharp and precise, written in a hand that seemed too elegant for something so sinister.
Her breath caught as she read.
---
To Adrian, son of the underworld's chosen,
Your task remains unchanged. You are to secure the girl and bind her will to our cause. She carries the mark, whether she realizes it or not, and her soul must not fall into the wrong hands. We trust you understand the consequences of failure.
Do not disappoint us.
---
The words blurred as Elena's heart pounded in her ears. Bind her will. Her soul.
The girl in the letter—there was no mistaking it. They were talking about her.
Her hands shook so violently she nearly dropped the parchment.
Adrian hadn't just appeared in her life by chance. He hadn't just chosen her because of some fleeting desire. He had been sent. From the beginning.
"Elena."
She jumped at the voice, spinning around. Adrian stood at her window, as if summoned by her thoughts, his dark coat rippling in the morning breeze.
"You read it," he said calmly.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Adrian stepped into the room, his movements fluid, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His eyes—those eyes she had once thought unreadable—were fixed on her with something deeper than amusement.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
"Because you weren't ready."
"That's not an answer!" She slammed the letter onto the desk. "This says you were sent to me. That you were supposed to… to take my soul!"
Adrian's expression didn't falter, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. "And did I?"
Her chest tightened. "You're avoiding the truth."
He moved closer, until the warmth of him pressed against her cold fear. He lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"The truth, Elena, is that I could have taken your soul the moment I met you. But I didn't." His voice was soft, dangerous, intimate. "I chose something else."
Her breath trembled. "What?"
"You."
---
Tears stung her eyes, confusion tearing her apart. "But why me? Why my soul? What mark are they talking about?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. For once, his composure cracked, revealing something raw beneath.
"You were born with it," he said. "A mark that ties you to both light and shadow. A soul strong enough to tip the balance. They wanted me to claim you, bind you. But what they don't understand is…"
He leaned in, his forehead nearly touching hers.
"…you've already bound me."
Her heart lurched, torn between terror and something far more dangerous—desire.
"But Damian—" she began, but Adrian cut her off with a low laugh.
"Damian is nothing but noise. He can shout, he can rage, but he will never understand you the way I do. And when the time comes, he will fall."
---
Elena turned away, clutching her arms to still their trembling. The words in the letter still burned into her mind. Her soul must not fall into the wrong hands.
But which hands were the wrong ones?
Adrian, who made her feel safe even as he whispered danger into her veins?
Or Damian, who once shone like the sun but now cast only shadows?
She pressed her eyes shut. "I don't know who to believe anymore."
Adrian stepped behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. His breath brushed her ear.
"Then believe this," he murmured. "Every choice you make draws you closer to me. And when the day comes, Elena, you won't fear the devil's son—you'll beg for him."
Her knees nearly gave way at the heat of his words. She hated him for the arrogance, for the prophecy that sounded like a promise—but most of all, she hated herself for wanting it to be true.
---
Unseen by either of them, Damian watched from the corridor, his fist pressed white-knuckled against the wall. He had followed Adrian here, intending to drag Elena away if he had to. But the sight before him—the intimacy, the trust, the way she didn't scream or push Adrian back—stabbed through his chest like a blade.
"Elena," he whispered, broken.
His reflection in the window stared back at him, and for the first time, he didn't recognize the boy he saw.
He had sworn to save her.
But maybe saving her wasn't enough anymore.
Maybe he would have to destroy Adrian first—no matter the cost.