The cold had a voice that whispered in Zoey's ear all night, a hiss that crawled through the stone, into her skin, down her spine. Her wrists, bruised and raw from the metal cuffs, ached in time with the dull throb at the base of her skull. She hadn't slept. She hadn't even closed her eyes.
She knew it was coming.
The iron hinges on the cellar door groaned open at dawn, scraping against the frozen stone like a scream. A pair of booted feet descended slowly. Then another. And another.
Calista.
Zoey tensed, eyes narrowing in the dim light. Calista's silhouette came first—tall, composed, and wearing a cloak of raven feathers that glimmered faintly as she moved. She walked like a queen, but her eyes burned with venom.
"You've gotten very clever," she said, her voice sugar-laced poison. "Sending the boy out like a rabbit while you played the martyr. But clever girls," she crouched low so that they were face to face, "don't survive long in this pack ."
"I don't plan to survive," Zoey rasped.
Calista struck her. A quick, precise backhand that cracked against Zoey's cheek and sent her tumbling against the wall.
"Good," Calista said, rising. "Wasn't planning on letting you survive anyway."
Two guards entered behind her, grabbing Zoey roughly. They didn't even flinch when she cried out, dragging her up the stairs and into the snow-covered yard. Freya stood nearby, her face pale and helpless as she watched. Zoey met her gaze briefly—no words, she just shakes her head, as if telling her not to show any emotions and stand firm.
They hauled Zoey into the interrogation chamber beneath the east tower—a place soaked in echoes of suffering. Stone walls. A single chair bolted to the floor. And hooks. Too many hooks.
They tied her down. Calista circled slowly.
"You cost me a night's sleep," Calista said calmly. "And you cost your brother the illusion of safety."
She motioned. A leather-wrapped baton was handed to her.
The beating was methodical. No rage. No screaming. Just precision. Ribs. Back. Thighs. Enough to bruise and break but not to kill. Zoey's vision blurred. Her teeth cracked together to hold back the cries, but a few escaped.
Outside, Xavier paced along the far courtyard wall. He'd seen them drag Zoey. His fists were clenched, jaw tight. He had disobeyed direct orders last night—had risked standing his place here. Because of her.
And he wanted to do it again.
He moved toward the tower doors, footsteps crunching on frost, cloak tight around him.
But just before he reached the entrance, a hand grabbed his arm.
"Sara," he whispered.
His older sister stood firm, her expression grim. "No."
"You don't understand," Xavier hissed. "She's not—"
"I don't care what she is. She's a prisoner. She tried to escape. You helped her. Once. Fine. I looked away. But again?" Her voice lowered dangerously. "I will go to Father. I'll tell him everything."
Xavier's breath caught. "You wouldn't."
"I would. You know I would. If he finds out you're risking our family's reputation and safety for this girl. You think he'll let her go? He'll do worse. I knew you were up to something when you tagged along with Father when you normally don't do such"
Xavier's shoulders sank, torn. Sara's grip loosened slightly, her eyes softening.
"You think she's different. I get it. Maybe she is. But this world doesn't forgive defiance. And if you keep helping her, you won't survive the punishment. Neither will she."
Inside the tower, Zoey had slumped forward, blood on her lips, arms hanging limply.
Calista smiled, breathless from her exertion. "This was just the beginning."
She motioned to the guards. "Take her back to the cell."
Meanwhile...
Lily wrapped Ryan in a fur blanket and handed him hot broth. He drank slowly, still shaking. Her eyes scanned the trees beyond her window constantly.
"You're safe now," she whispered.
"Will they find me?"
"Not if we're careful."
But caution, it turned out, could not stop betrayal by mistake.
Later that evening, Lily had stepped out briefly to gather herbs from her garden near the back fence. It was dark, and she didn't notice the faint trail of footprints Ryan had left behind in the soft snow—small, hurried prints leading directly to her door.
A patrol passed.
A tracker among them noticed. And worse—recognized the shoes.
By the time Lily returned, a torch light was flickering beyond the trees.
"Ryan, get to the cellar—now!" she said very softly in a very low voice not even the person standing next to her could hear.
She desperately wanted to do something without implicating herself or her family. But it was too late.
A dozen guards burst through the door, shoving her aside. Ryan screamed. Lily tried to intervene, but she was pushed against the wall. Calista wasn't among them, but her orders were clear.
Ryan was dragged away into the dark, his cries echoing down the mountain.
Back in the Moonvale compound, Freya appeared at Zoey's cell that night, a basket in her hands.
She wasn't alone.
Another warrior stood beside her.
They knelt beside her, laying out soft bread, cheese, and water. Zoey could barely lift her head.
"Don't talk," Freya said gently, tearing the bread and dipping it into water. "Just eat what you can."
The warrior handed her a rolled bandage. "For your ribs. It's not much, but it'll help the swelling."
Zoey accepted it wordlessly. Her eyes burned, but no tears came. She wouldn't give them that.
Freya leaned in. "They say the vampire lord will be here tomorrow. Calista's preparing your dress. She wants you to look...presentable."
Zoey coughed. "To be sold?"
Freya nodded, lips tight.
The other warrior finally spoke. "Not everyone in Moonvale serves Calista. Some of us... remember your mother."
Zoey's head snapped up. "What?"
She said nothing more. Just gave her a look.
But their time was short.
A distant commotion stirred in the courtyard. Voices shouting. Boots running.
Freya stood quickly. "We have to go. They'll do checks soon."
They slipped away, leaving the remnants of food and the bandage.
Zoey leaned against the wall, trembling. She pressed the bandage to her side but didn't wrap it. Instead, she closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.
The door crashed open.
Her eyes flew open.
A guard threw a figure into the cell. He hit the stone floor hard and didn't move at first.
Zoey crawled over, dread tightening in her chest.
"Ryan?"
He groaned.
"Ryan!"
He turned slightly, face bruised, lip split, eyes dazed. "They... found me."
She gathered him into her arms, cradling him tightly, the pain in her body forgotten in an instant.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered over and over.
He clung to her. "It's not your fault."
The cell door slammed shut again, echoing through the underground.
Zoey looked toward the shadows, fury rising beneath the sorrow.
This isn't over.
"Just let it be. Everytime you try, things not only get worse for me but for you too. I'm tired. Let's just go along. Hope isn't something I want right now."
An
d above them, on the snowy ridge beyond the compound, a black carriage had appeared—its windows shuttered, its passenger silent.
The vampire had arrived.