"The contract you signed was not written in ink."
Those were the first words Lucien Blackthorne said to her.
No hello. No welcome. No smile.
Just that.
And somehow, Raina Carter knew deep in her bones that she had just stepped into something far worse than she'd ever imagined.
Two hours earlier, she was driving through fog. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, the silence in her car louder than the hum of the tires. Her phone had a full battery. The GPS worked. The air was thick, but her thoughts were heavier.
She didn't care about the details of the job.
Live-in assistant. High pay. No questions asked.
She needed out. And fast.
Her landlord had banged on her door that morning. Her last hundred dollars were tucked into the gas tank and a crumpled coffee cup. She hadn't told a soul where she was going.
Maybe because she didn't want to admit how desperate she was.
Then everything died.
The car. The lights. Her phone.
She coasted in neutral until the forest swallowed her whole, fog curling against the windshield like breath from something ancient.
Ahead, a tall iron gate loomed open unguarded.
Beyond it, the silhouette of the mansion rose like a beast from the night.
She should've turned around. Should've run. But something pulled her forward. Or maybe something waited.
Now, standing in the cold marble foyer, her boots wet and her breath visible, she faced him.
Lucien.
He was taller than she expected. Darker. More still than any man she had ever seen. Like stone carved by centuries and moonlight.
His charcoal suit looked untouched by the cold. His silver eyes watched her with no emotion. Not warmth. Not curiosity. Just calculation.
"You… you must be Mr. Blackthorne," she said, trying to sound firm.
He blinked once.
"You drove here alone?"
"My car died just before the gate," she replied, shivering. "My phone too."
"No driver?"
"There wasn't one listed."
He looked past her, out into the swirling fog. "It started already."
"What started?"
Lucien turned back to her. "You signed it, didn't you?"
"The contract? Yes," she said slowly. "I signed what your office sent me. It was just a one-page agreement."
"That wasn't ink you signed with," he said again.
His voice was low, but it echoed. The air felt heavier now, like the house itself had leaned in to listen.
She reached into her purse, fingers brushing over the envelope. The paper was still there.
Still warm.
Too warm.
She pulled it out.
The moment it touched her fingers, the words began to shift.
The printed lines blurred, then twisted reshaping into something new.
CLAIMED. Bound under Moonblood Law. Until Broken… or Bled.
Raina's breath caught in her throat.
"What the hell is this?" she whispered.
Lucien stepped forward. Not threateningly, but like someone who already knew she wouldn't run.
"You've entered into a contract with the House of Blackthorne," he said. "A blood oath."
"That wasn't in the job description."
"No," he said. "But the moon doesn't care about descriptions. Only what's written."
She stared at him, her body tense, heart racing.
"This is insane," she breathed. "Is this some kind of cult thing? Or a sick joke?"
He tilted his head. "Would you prefer the truth or comfort, Ms. Carter?"
"Neither of those options include normal."
"They never do," he said simply. "Not here."
A soft creak echoed from behind her.
Raina turned—only to find the front door had vanished.
Not shut.
Gone.
The wall was smooth, seamless. Like there had never been a door at all.
Her chest tightened.
Panic clawed up her throat, but she shoved it back. This couldn't be real. This was a nightmare. She was just tired. She had driven too far. Maybe she was dreaming.
Then she looked at Lucien again.
No one in a dream looked that solid. That cold. That alive. "I want to leave," she said.
He nodded. "Most do. At first."
"I'm serious."
She took a step back. "I didn't sign up for this. You can't force me to stay." "I didn't," he said. "You signed yourself." "I didn't know!" "Intent doesn't change the mark."
She looked down at her hand. Her skin had darkened along her wrist a glowing crescent shimmered faintly beneath her veins.
Raina staggered backward. "No. No, no, no" Lucien's voice dropped lower. "The moon chooses."
"I don't even believe in this kind of sh" Her voice cut off as the chandelier above flickered, then pulsed with light.
A sudden weight pressed against her chest, not physical something deeper, older.
The house moaned around her, like wood shifting under the weight of breath.
Lucien took a slow step forward. "You were drawn here for a reason," he said. "The contract is sealed. The bond has begun."
She looked up at him, fear turning to something else. Not quite trust. Not yet hate. But a knowing. A recognition. Something in her… recognized something in him. And that terrified her more than the contract ever could.
Lucien reached the staircase and paused. "You'll stay in the east wing. Do not enter the west side without permission."
"I want answers," she said, breath shaking. "You'll get them," he replied, ascending the
stairs. "When?" He stopped at the landing. "When the moon calls you again." Behind her, the house shifted once more.
And in her chest, the crescent mark pulsed like it had always been there waiting to be awakened.