Elena's POV

I never understood why Jason resented me so much.

Under the pressure from his Grandfather, he had indeed married me — but he could have simply ignored me and lived his own life. Why did he insist on parading those women in front of me, feeding off my misery?

The corridor had gone deathly quiet.

Vicky started to speak, but Jason had already seized my wrist. His grip was crushing, almost out of control. Before I could react, he was dragging me into a side room.

The door slammed shut behind us.

The heavy wood sealed off every sound from the corridor. It was just the two of us.

Jason's breathing was ragged, as if he was fighting to contain something. One hand still locked around my wrist, the other braced against the wall, caging me between his body and the stone.

"What the hell is going on in your head?"

His voice was dangerously low.

I didn't answer.

I already knew what he wanted to hear.

I just didn't care to say it anymore.

His gaze lingered on my face, searching for something familiar. Rage. Heartbreak. Tears. In the past, I'd always crumbled in front of him. But now I just stood there, still and quiet.

That calmness unsettled him more than any outburst could.

Then he lunged forward.

Before I could react, he had me pinned against the wall.

Cold stone pressed against my back.

Jason's breath fell against the side of my neck.

His pupils had gone fully crimson — a vampire's instinct, laid bare by loss of control. Those eyes were deep as a pool of blood, holding something dangerous and suppressed.

Then I felt his fangs settle against my throat.

Sharp. Cold. One fraction more pressure and they'd pierce the skin.

The silence was suffocating.

Jason didn't bite down.

He held the position, waiting — for me to panic, struggle, or cry.

I did none of those things.

I simply tilted my head back, looked at the ceiling, and asked calmly:

"Is that all?"

He faltered.

"What?"

I turned to face him. Even I was surprised by how calm my own eyes were.

"If I let you drink my blood — if that's what it takes — will you agree to the divorce?"

The words landed like a blow.

His grip tightened violently.

Those red eyes bored into me, searching for any sign that I was bluffing.

"You really want to leave that badly?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, ice-cold.

I didn't answer.

Jason let out a hollow laugh.

There was no warmth in it — only something edging toward madness.

"I see."

He murmured to himself, as if working through a realization.

"So that's what it is."

His hand tightened further. His expression grew tangled and dark.

"You hate me because of your parents. That's it, isn't it?"

His voice went suddenly quiet — as if speaking a truth he'd always known but never dared acknowledge.

"You blame me for their death, don't you?"

I said nothing.

Even now, he was grasping for excuses.

Who was it, really, who couldn't accept what had happened?

He was the one who survived. He was the one who'd spent ten years tormenting me. I'd never once blamed him.

What right did he have to stand here playing the victim?

Jason stared at me, searching my eyes for any flicker of longing or tenderness.

There was nothing.

My silence only pushed him further.

He let out another low, bitter laugh.

"Vicky was right after all."

"You really do look at me like I'm your enemy."

His voice kept dropping.

"So it's true. You really do hate me."

No matter how hard he searched for proof that I still loved him, he would find nothing. It was useless.

He pressed his fangs forward another fraction.

The skin broke. A tiny sting. The faint scent of blood drifted into the air.

I didn't flinch. I didn't struggle.

I just tilted my head back, letting him do as he pleased.

Jason's breathing stuttered.

"Why aren't you pulling away?"

His whisper was hoarse.

"You used to be terrified of this."

When we were young, he'd flash his fangs to tease me and I'd burst into tears, scolding him through the sobs. He'd always take my hand, guide my fingers along his fangs, and tell me not to be afraid — that he'd never hurt me.

Looking at him now, I felt nothing but exhaustion.

Ten years.

Fights. Resentment. Tears. Hysteria.

Every last drop of those emotions had been wrung out of me.

Now, after all the wounds, all that remained was a complete and utter emptiness.

I didn't want to think anymore. I didn't want to salvage anything.

I said softly:

"If this is what it takes for you to let me go."

"Then drink."

Jason's pupils contracted sharply.

I closed my eyes.

My voice was quiet, but perfectly clear.

"It doesn't matter."

"I stopped being afraid of this kind of pain a long time ago."

Elena's POV

Jason practically fled the room.

The door slammed behind him so hard the heavy wood rattled the wall, and the entire corridor fell silent.

I didn't move.

In that final instant, I thought I'd seen his eyes glistening — as if he were about to cry.

But I no longer cared to figure out what was real and what wasn't.

Ten years of half-truths and false tenderness had killed any interest I had in reading between the lines.

My phone buzzed twice in my pocket.

I glanced down.

Luke's name on the screen.

[Are you okay?]

[I can't stop worrying about you.]

Two short lines — but something in my chest loosened.

Like a pair of hands, steady and sure, reaching for me from a distance.

I used to believe Jason and I would be together forever.

Back when we were young, he'd walk with me through the hills behind the estate. He'd drape his jacket over my shoulders when I was scared.

I'd told myself that no matter how much it hurt, I'd never leave him.

But now I knew — people change.

So do hearts.

I typed slowly.

[I'm fine. Just a little longer. It'll all be over soon.]

The message had barely sent when the click of heels echoed down the corridor.

The door flew open.

Vicky stood in the doorway.

Her face was ugly with anger, her flowing red dress in disarray.

"Jason's drinking."

She glared at me, her voice edged with venom.

"He locked himself in the wine cellar. He's been going through bottle after bottle since you two were in that room."

I said nothing. I just looked at her, calm and still.

That only made her angrier.

"Feeling smug, are you?"

A cold sneer.

"Seeing him like this — you must be thrilled."

I still didn't respond.

Vicky's nails dug into her own palms. Her eyes darkened.

"You don't actually think Jason is doing this because of you?"

Then she laughed.

A vicious, deliberate laugh.

"Keep dreaming."

"Jason never loved you."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper — each word sharpened to a point.

"The one he's always loved is me."

I leaned against the window, my expression unchanged, as though listening to a story about someone else entirely.

That reaction pushed her over the edge.

She stared at me for a long moment, then shifted tactics, wearing a mask of feigned sympathy.

"You’re quite pathetic, actually."

A soft sigh.

"Ten years of marriage, and you couldn't even give him a child."

Her gaze dropped to my stomach, heavy with scorn.

"Humans and vampires were never meant to reproduce. What a pity."

I still said nothing.

Seeing that nothing got through to me, she suddenly smiled. "Oh, wait. I misspoke."

"It's not that you couldn't conceive. It's that you couldn't carry to term."

My hand clenched.

Vicky caught the reaction, and satisfaction flickered in her eyes.

"You remember that car accident, don't you?"

Her voice was airy, careless.

"You called Jason on video, begging for help."

"Too bad."

A soft laugh.

"He was with me. He didn't have time for you. Those photos you saw? I'm the one who sent them."

The air went dead.

Something detonated inside my skull.

Vicky's voice grew even lighter.

"And that car — the one that hit you."

She tilted her head, smiling like a child.

"Who do you think arranged it?"

In that instant, my last thread of reason snapped.

I was on her before I knew it.

We collided. A chair toppled. The table crashed to the floor.

Vicky clearly hadn't expected me to attack.

But the gap between a human and a vampire was too vast.

She recovered in a heartbeat, swinging her arm. The force sent me sprawling.

The back of my head cracked against the floor. My vision went black.

She stood over me, her expression completely changed.

"How pathetic."

Her voice was low.

"So you really knew nothing. You've been a blind fool this entire time."

Then hands seized my wrists.

Several servants rushed in and dragged me, still dazed, into the next room.

The door slammed. The lock clicked.

A sharp, chemical smell filled the air.

I looked down and saw oil pooled across the floor.

From outside came Vicky's gentle voice.

"Elena. Jason doesn't blame me. "

"After all..."

She chuckled softly.

"It’s just an accident. And, you deserve to die."

The next second, flames burst in beneath the door crack.

Thick smoke spread swiftly, and a wave of scorching heat washed over me.

I leaned against the wall, my vision slowly fading.At the very moment my consciousness was about to slip away.

Bang!

The window was suddenly shattered from the outside.

Shards of glass flew everywhere, and a figure burst into the flames.

I could barely make out his face, only that he rushed to me and held me tight.With the last of my strength, I clutched at his clothes.

My voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

"Take me away."

I whispered.

"Luke."