The fire ate the ceiling.
The mansion split open. Pillars cracked. Glass burst outward. Smoke dug into her lungs and stayed there.
She couldn't breathe in. Couldn't push air out.
Her skin peeled.
Isabella lay facedown on the floor, jaw clenched so hard she felt her teeth shift.
The marble was hot enough to blister. She could feel her skin sticking to it.
"Julian..."
"Sara..."
Their names ripped out of her one last time. The only two words she had left.
Then her heart stopped.
Just like that. Like someone pulled a plug.
The pain cut off. All of it, all at once. Her body went light — lighter than it had been in years, like the weight of everything she'd carried just fell through the floor.
She was floating. Or falling. She couldn't tell which.
Below her, the mansion caved in. The roof folded. Fire swallowed what was left. She watched it burn from somewhere above, or maybe from nowhere at all. The body on the floor didn't look like hers anymore. It looked like something left behind on purpose.
She should've felt something about that. She didn't.
And then a voice.
Low. Deep. Clearer than the flames, clearer than anything she'd heard in three years of listening through walls and closed doors.
"I'll give you a chance."
Silence.
"Would you like to live again?"
Isabella's mind flickered. Half-gone, half-grasping.
"Who..."
The voice laughed. Soft, like this amused him.
"You're already dead."
She knew. She'd felt the exact second her heart gave out. The moment everything went quiet inside her chest.
"I restarted it."
The air warped around her. Or whatever was left of the air. She wasn't sure where she was anymore.
"But there's a cost."
Short pause.
"You belong to me now."
Isabella didn't think about it. Her rage answered before she could.
"Julian..."
Her breath split apart.
"Sara..."
Her jaw locked.
"I'll kill them both."
The voice dropped lower.
"Good answer."
---
The world flipped.
Isabella gasped.
Her eyes flew open.
A bed. Sheets. A pillow under her head.
No smoke. No fire. Just clean air that hurt going in — her lungs expected ash and got nothing.
Her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to break out. Her whole body was soaked through with sweat. The nightgown stuck to her skin.
She touched her own arms. No burns. She ran her fingers across her face. No blisters. Her hair was there, all of it, not singed, not gone.
She reached out with shaking hands.
Nightstand. Phone. She dragged it to her face — one inch from her eyes. The screen was blurry but she could make out shapes.
The calendar.
The date.
She read it three times.
It was the day before she died.
"I'm back..."
Her voice cracked on the words. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Then the air near the window changed.
Someone was there.
She couldn't see the face. Her vision was still wrecked — mostly shadows and light with nothing in between. But she could see enough.
Tall. Wide shoulders. Standing completely still.
He'd been there before she woke up.
"You're awake."
That voice.
The same one from the fire. From the space between dead and alive.
"How does it feel? Being born twice."
Isabella's fist twisted into the sheets.
"Who are you."
He walked toward her. Slow steps. He stopped at the foot of the bed.
"You died," he said. Calm, like he was reading the weather. "In the fire. Your heart stopped for nine seconds."
Her breathing went shallow.
"I caught you."
The room was quiet for a long time.
"Why."
"Because you wanted revenge."
His hand reached down and tilted her chin up. Not rough. Not gentle either. Somewhere in between that made her skin buzz.
"Julian burned you alive."
Her heart hammered.
"Sara checked your pulse to make sure you were gone."
That one hit different. Isabella's stomach folded in on itself. She pictured Sara crouching over her body, two fingers on her neck, waiting until she felt nothing. Then standing up. Brushing off her skirt. Walking away.
The rage hit like a wall.
"I'll kill them."
Her voice was raw, barely held together.
"Both of them. I don't care how."
He laughed. Low and quiet.
"Yeah."
"That's the hunger that called me."
He let the words sit for a second. Then his hand slid from her chin to her waist. Gripped hard. There was nothing careful about it — it was ownership, plain and simple. His fingers pressed into her side like he was checking she was real — and marking her at the same time.
"The contract is already done."
She tried to pull back.
"I didn't — "
Before she could finish, his mouth came down on hers.
It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim.
Hard and overwhelming. He kissed her like he was sealing something shut, like he was writing his name somewhere inside her chest. His hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in. Not asking. Not waiting for permission.
She couldn't move. Her body locked up. Every nerve fired at once and none of them told her to run — they all just froze. Her fists stayed balled against his chest but they didn't push.
Three years married to Julian. He'd never kissed her like this. Nobody had. This wasn't affection. This was a signature on a contract she hadn't read.
His hand held her in place. Firm against her lower back. There was nowhere to go.
He pulled away.
His breath grazed her lips. Still close. Too close.
"It's done now."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"And I owe you a gift."
His hand came up to her face.
Cold fingers brushed across her eyelids. Gentle this time, almost careful — a weird contrast to everything else about him. He traced the skin above her lashes, slow, like he was drawing something.
Heat spread behind her eyes.
A sting. Then a flash.
Her vision shuddered.
The blur shifted. Colors separated. Edges sharpened.
She blinked. Blinked again.
The ceiling came first. White plaster, a hairline crack running left to right. Then the window frame. The curtain fabric. The grain of the wooden nightstand.
Details. Actual details. Things she hadn't seen in three years.
For the first time in three years, the world had shape.
And the first thing she saw — clearly, fully — was his face.
Pale skin. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones that caught the light from the window like they were cut from something harder than bone. Dark eyes so vivid they didn't look human.
He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Which was terrifying, because nothing about him felt safe.
"I can see..."
Her voice came out in pieces.
He smiled. Just the corner of his mouth.
"I gave you that."
His thumb dragged across her cheek.
"These eyes belong to me now."
Isabella stared at him. Her new vision was almost too sharp — she could see the faint scar along his jaw, the way his pupils swallowed most of the color in his eyes.
He leaned in closer.
"The revenge you want — I'll build it for you. Every piece."
A whisper against her skin.
"But in return."
That half-smile again. Cold and certain.
"You're completely mine."