The night passed slowly, each hour heavy with silence. Elena drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, haunted by Damian's broken voice and Adrian's terrifying vow. When she finally stirred awake, sunlight had begun to filter through the curtains, though the warmth did nothing to soothe her.
She found Adrian seated by the edge of the bed, his head tilted slightly, crimson eyes watching her as though he hadn't slept at all.
Her breath caught. "Were you… watching me all night?"
His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "I don't close my eyes when I know someone out there is plotting to take what's mine."
Her cheeks flushed, though her heart tightened at the weight of his words. "Adrian…" She hesitated. "You make it sound like I'm a possession."
He leaned closer, his hand resting beside her head on the pillow, his gaze locking onto hers with unshakable intensity. "That's because you are."
Her lips parted in protest, but the words died in her throat when his other hand brushed lightly against her collarbone. "I won't let Damian touch you," he whispered. "Not even in your memories."
The room darkened slightly as his aura stirred, shadows curling around them like chains. She felt them brush against her skin—not painful, not cold, but binding.
"Elena," he said softly, almost pleading despite the steel in his tone, "say it. Say you belong to me."
Her heart hammered. She should have resisted, should have pushed against the possessive fire in his eyes. But the truth was, the thought of Damian's crimson glare terrified her far more than Adrian's shadows. And deep inside, some fragile part of her longed to be claimed, to be protected so fiercely that nothing could touch her.
Her voice trembled as it left her lips. "I… I belong to you."
Adrian exhaled slowly, like a predator finally sinking its teeth into prey. He pressed his forehead against hers, his shadows retreating slightly as if satisfied. "Good girl," he murmured.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. The intimacy of the words left her dizzy, breathless.
But even as Adrian held her, his mind was elsewhere. He could feel it—Damian's aura stretching, growing, corrupting. Something in the air pulsed with a rhythm not his own, a rival heartbeat challenging his claim.
He kissed her lightly, though there was nothing gentle in the way his hands gripped her waist. "He's coming back stronger. I can sense it." His smile turned dark. "Let him. It'll make crushing him all the sweeter."
Elena shivered, torn between the safety of his embrace and the dread gnawing at her chest. Damian's face wouldn't leave her mind. His vow, his pain—it lingered, and part of her still wished she could have saved him before it was too late.
Adrian felt her unease and pulled her even closer, as though reading her thoughts. "Don't waste your pity on him," he said sharply. "He's chosen his path. Now you choose yours." His hand slid up her arm, his touch commanding. "And you've already chosen me."
The conviction in his voice left no room for denial. Her throat tightened, her pulse quickening. She wanted to argue, to remind herself that she had free will, but the truth was clear: Adrian's world had already swallowed hers whole.
Far from the academy, Damian stood at the edge of a ravine, the dark power he had consumed thrumming through his veins. His hands no longer shook. His eyes glowed scarlet, the humanity within them flickering like the last embers of a dying fire.
He stared at the distant spires of the academy, his lips curling into a grim smile.
"You think she belongs to you, Adrian?" he muttered. "You're wrong. She remembers me. She remembers us. And I'll remind her of what we were—by tearing you apart."
The wind howled, carrying his vow into the void.