The iron gates closed behind Mira with a groan that echoed like a warning bell through the thick, cursed air. Her heart was still galloping from the blood moon chase, but it was nothing compared to the storm waiting inside. The mansion stood like a corpse resurrected—gothic arches twisting into shadows, the scent of old blood and secrets woven deep into its stone.
She had returned.
Back to the place she tried to escape. Back to the four monsters who hated her blood as much as they were bound to it.
Back to them.
Her boots echoed hollowly as she crossed the marble floor toward the grand staircase. The chandelier above her flickered, as if reacting to her presence. The house didn't want her here. Neither did the walls. Neither did they.
And yet, she was bound.
"Look who crawled back," came Kaelen's drawl from the shadows, his voice like silk dipped in poison.
She turned slowly—heart dropping.
At the top of the staircase, they stood like gods of ruin.
Varek, eyes cold and commanding, arms crossed like he was ready to cast judgment.
Lucien, leaned casually against the banister, watching her with calculating intensity.
Darian, silent, unreadable—but his eyes betrayed the storm brewing beneath his calm.
And Kaelen—smirking, arms wide open, like he'd been waiting for her to come back just so he could ruin her again.
But Mira wasn't alone in the room.
Salena.
She was draped across the velvet sofa like a queen awaiting her court, her dark curls tangled, her dress already falling from her shoulders. There was blood on her neck. On her thighs. Her lips were swollen and red—not from lipstick.
She turned her head lazily toward Mira, licking her bottom lip. "Welcome home, pretty doll. Miss me?"
Mira froze.
Salena rose slowly, barefoot, her body already marked by all four of them. Bite marks glistened on her skin like dark kisses. She walked—no, stalked—to the Lords, as if she were entitled to every inch of them.
"Still hungry, are we?" Lucien asked dryly as Salena approached him, curling her hand around his collar.
"I never get full," she purred, pressing herself against him. "Especially when all four of you leave me shaking and still wanting more."
Lucien didn't move away. Neither did the others.
Kaelen chuckled, stepping behind her and pulling her hair back. "You should've seen her, Mira," he said, voice loud enough to slice into Mira's soul. "Begging. Biting. Screaming our names like a song stuck in her throat."
Darian stepped forward, his hands running down Salena's waist as she leaned into him. "She offered herself without hesitation. Every inch. Every drop."
Salena moaned softly as Kaelen's lips brushed her neck again.
"You can go to hell," Mira whispered, fists clenched.
"Already there," Salena laughed, looking directly at her, "and I brought them with me."
Varek, finally moving, approached Salena with slow, deadly steps. Mira's eyes locked on him—on the way his hand traced Salena's jaw, on the way her breath hitched in pleasure.
"You let her watch," Salena said to him, voice low and sultry, "let her see how much I enjoy what she doesn't want."
"She needs to understand her place," Varek replied without looking at Mira. "She runs. She returns. But she's not here as an equal."
Kaelen chuckled. "She's here because she bleeds our curse. And whether she wants it or not…" His eyes met Mira's, all humor gone. "She'll drown in it."
Salena turned toward Mira, still tangled in Lucien's hold. "They hate you, Mira. But they'll never let you go. And you? You'll always be the reason they're bound—to a girl too afraid to beg."
"I'm not afraid of you," Mira spat, voice low and shaking.
"You should be," Varek growled, stepping away from Salena and finally facing her. "Because the next time your blood calls the wild again, it won't just be the forest hunting you."
"It'll be us," Lucien added darkly. "And we don't show mercy to what we own."
Mira's chest rose and fell rapidly as they turned from her, back to Salena, who smiled wickedly as all four of them descended on her again—touching, biting, devouring her right there, not even bothering to shield Mira's eyes from their hunger.
It was a show.
It was a warning.
It was war.
And Mira? She just stood there—trembling. But something cold was beginning to replace the fear.
Not power.
Not yet.
But rage.
They think I'm weak…
She turned away from the scene, walking toward the hallway that led deeper into the mansion.
Let them believe that. For now.
But the mansion heard her thoughts.
And it whispered back.
"Not all prey stays prey."