"Well," the stranger murmured, smooth and unhurried, "aren't you a pretty mess?"
Lilith's breath caught.
The air in the shack shifted, the fragile silence breaking beneath the weight of something unseen. Something cold.
Her body locked up, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as every nerve screamed to attention. She wasn't alone.
The rain hammered against the roof, water dripping through the cracks, but inside the shack, everything felt too still. Too silent.
A shadow loomed in the doorway.
Tall. Unrushed. Like he had all the time in the world.
Another flash of lightning illuminated him for only a moment—but it was enough.
Sharp, elegant features. A high forehead. Hollow cheeks. A faint, knowing smile.
And eyes—deep, dark, and entirely too amused.
Lilith's fingers curled into the damp fabric of her cloak. Too perfect. He was too perfect.
Not a single drop of rain clung to him. Not a single strand of hair out of place.
He wasn't a man.
She knew that immediately.
But what unsettled her most was the way he looked at her.
Not like a threat.
Not like an enemy.
Like she was a curiosity. A puzzle he was already piecing together.
"Who are you?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
The man stepped forward, slow, measured—not closing the distance too quickly, but not hesitating either.
"Forgive me," he said smoothly, offering a graceful bow. His coat shifted with the motion—dark, expensive fabric, finer than anything she had seen in years. "Where are my manners?"
Lilith's breath turned shallow.
That was a noble's bow.
Not just any noble. A highborn.
"I am Duke Adrien D'Aragon, of the House of Night."
The name sent a ripple of unease through her.
Lilith swallowed hard, keeping her expression neutral.
The House of Night. One of the oldest, most influential vampire noble houses. Their reach extended beyond their own kind, shaping the political landscapes of both werewolf and human courts.
They were powerful. Dangerous. Untouchable.
And now, one of their dukes was standing in front of her.
"And you, my lady?" Adrien continued, his voice smooth as silk. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"
Lilith hesitated.
Her throat tightened, her mind racing.
Every instinct screamed at her to choose her words carefully.
She parted her lips, and the name almost slipped out by habit.
"Lilith Vaelthorne."
The moment it left her mouth, she regretted it.
The vampire's lips curled, ever so slightly. Not a smirk. Not quite amusement. Something else.
A knowing.
She forced her hands to steady at her sides. No. That wasn't her name anymore.
"No." The correction was sharp, and she hated the way her voice wavered. "Lilith Evermere."
Silence.
Then—Adrien smiled.
"Ah."
Lilith's stomach twisted.
The way he said it—Ah.
Simple. Short. But not meaningless.
It was the way his gaze lingered just a second too long. The way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Like he had just confirmed something he already suspected.
She should have lied.
Should have given a different name. Should have kept walking through that storm and never stopped here at all.
But it was too late now.
Adrien took another slow step forward, his boots barely making a sound against the rotting wooden floor.
"Evermere," he repeated, rolling the name over his tongue like he was tasting it.
Lilith forced herself to stay still.
"A lesser house, isn't it?" He mused, as if the answer wasn't already known to him. "One of the oldest werewolf bloodlines, but never quite strong enough to leave their mark. A house that is… easily overlooked."
Her pulse kicked up, an ugly heat rising in her chest.
She had heard those words before.
Not from him.
But from nobles in Lucian's court. From whispering ladies in silk gowns, from men with cold, assessing stares.
Easily overlooked.
Her fingers curled into her damp cloak.
"You know a great deal about werewolf houses for a vampire, Your Grace."
Adrien's smile sharpened. "Oh, I make it a point to know things, my dear. Knowledge is… currency, after all."
The way he said it—like he wasn't just talking about noble lineages anymore.
Lilith swallowed hard. This wasn't a conversation anymore. It was a game. And she was already losing.
"A shame, truly," Adrien continued, his tone turning softer, almost… sympathetic. "I imagine it must be difficult, bearing the name of a house so… easily forgotten. Perhaps that's why you took on your husband's name so quickly."
Her breath hitched.
Adrien watched her carefully, like a cat watching a trapped bird.
"Or should I say… former husband?"
The air left her lungs.
It was subtle—so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But Adrien didn't miss anything.
His smile deepened, his satisfaction barely hidden beneath false politeness.
"Ah. I see."
Lilith straightened, fighting against the cold crawling down her spine.
"I don't know what you think you see," she said stiffly, but her voice wavered just enough that it betrayed her.
Adrien chuckled.
"Come now, my lady. We both know your reputation precedes you."
Lilith's pulse pounded in her skull.
"What reputation?" she demanded, her voice sharper than before.
Adrien took another step forward—slow, measured, like he was savoring the moment.
"The one that has spread far beyond the borders of Lucian Vaelthorne's court," he said smoothly. "The one that whispers of a mate scorned. A woman cast aside, carrying—"
He stopped.
Or rather, he let the sentence hang there.
Deliberate. Calculated.
The words never spoken, but there.
Lilith froze.
The space between them felt smaller. Not because he had moved, but because the walls were closing in.
"You don't know anything about me."
Adrien tilted his head. "Don't I?"
His gaze flickered—not to her face, but lower. Just for a second.
Just long enough for her to realize.
He knew.
Her breath turned shallow, uneven.
And that was when the amusement faded from his expression.
The warmth bled from his voice.
And in its place, something else took root.
Something cold.
Something hungry.
"Oh, but I do, little wolf."
Lilith's heart pounded against her ribs.
Adrien's words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
"Oh, but I do, little wolf."
The way he said it sent a cold dread curling down her spine.
She wanted to move.
Wanted to step back, to create distance, to do something—but her body wouldn't listen.
Adrien didn't move closer. He didn't need to.
Because he had already trapped her.
His gaze flickered once more, lower, to the place she had pressed her hand against earlier.
She forced herself to speak, but her voice came out hoarse, strained.
"I don't know what you think you're implying—"
"Oh, Lilith." He sighed, almost as if disappointed.
Then—he smiled.
And this time, there was nothing pleasant about it.
The noble elegance was still there—the perfect posture, the rich velvet of his coat, the carefully controlled expression. But now? Now it looked like a mask.
And it was slipping.
"You poor thing," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "You really thought you could disappear, didn't you?"
Lilith's breath hitched.
"You thought you could just vanish into the night, become nothing but a ghost of a forgotten scandal."
His smile widened, just slightly.
"But you were never going to be forgotten, my dear."
Her fingers twitched against her cloak, resisting the urge to reach for a weapon she didn't have.
"What do you want?" she demanded, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat.
Adrien lifted a hand, inspecting his gloved fingers, as if her question was of no real concern to him.
"Want?" He mused, voice as smooth as silk.
Then he met her eyes again.
And in that instant—the illusion shattered.
The room felt smaller.
The candlelight flickered—or maybe it was her vision dimming.
"What I want," he murmured, finally stepping forward, "is exactly what has already been set in motion."
Lilith stepped back on instinct.
Adrien's expression didn't change, but his next words made her blood run cold.
"I came for you, Lilith."
No amusement now. No warmth left in his voice.
Just fact.
I came for you.
She was never meant to escape that court.
She was never meant to be free.
She had been running toward the unknown but all along, someone had been waiting.
Watching.
Hunting.
"You should be grateful, really," Adrien continued, his voice mocking, almost amused again. "There are far worse fates than the one I offer."
Lilith's lungs constricted.
And finally—her body moved.
She turned on her heel, bolting toward the door.
But the second she moved—so did he.
Faster than breath.
Faster than thought.
Faster than she could ever hope to outrun.
Cold fingers closed around her throat.
Lilith froze, her breath catching as she was yanked back with effortless strength.
His grip wasn't tight—not crushing, not cutting off her air. But it was unshakable. A calculated restraint, a warning wrapped in something that almost felt… amused.
"Tsk." Adrien sighed, tilting his head. "I had hoped we could remain civil."
Lilith's pulse thundered against his palm, her body screaming at her to move. Fight. Shift. Do something.
But she was too weak.
Too drained.
And he knew it.
He wasn't rushed. He wasn't angry.
He was playing with her.
"Let go," she rasped, gritting her teeth.
"In a moment."
His other hand lifted, brushing damp hair from her face. The touch was calm, almost intimate—if it weren't for the fact that he was holding her in place like she weighed nothing.
"You are very lucky, Lilith Evermere," Adrien murmured, voice smooth as silk. "Do you know why?"
Lilith glared, her body trembling.
"You have something I want."
His grip tightened just slightly, enough for her to feel the strength coiled beneath his touch.
"And because of that," he continued, "I am feeling… generous."
Lilith's stomach coiled.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded.
"Not much," Adrien mused. "Just an agreement. A simple arrangement that benefits us both."
His fingers skimmed the pulse point beneath her jaw. Not a caress—an observation.
"You have no allies left, little wolf. No pack. No protection. You are alone. Vulnerable." He smiled faintly. "And yet, there are whispers of something… rather valuable hidden beneath your skin."
Lilith's breath hitched.
He knew.
He had known from the start.
Adrien chuckled, his grip loosening just slightly.
"I could take what I want," he said softly, as if it were a casual truth. "But I am not an unreasonable man."
Lilith's jaw clenched.
"So this is an ultimatum?"
"A choice."
He leaned in, his presence pressing down on her, suffocating in its control.
"I am giving you one day, Lilith."
Her fingers twitched against his wrist.
"One day to think. One day to decide."
His lips curled at the edges, not quite a smirk, but close.
"You can come willingly."
The air in the room shifted—thickening with something darker.
"Or you can test just how far my patience will stretch."
Lilith's chest tightened.
"Make your decision wisely," Adrien murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, something unshakable.
"Because when I return tomorrow night—"
His grip vanished.
Lilith stumbled back, gasping, her pulse still hammering in her ears.
Adrien smoothed the sleeves of his coat, completely unbothered.
"—I will not be making the same offer twice."
And then—just like that, he turned.
Stepping through the doorway into the storm, vanishing into the night like a phantom.