My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out.

I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste.

He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered.

So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice.

But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan.

Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked.

He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood.

Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one.

Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air.

"Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities."

"You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?"

A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder.

They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood.

I said nothing. I just nodded.

Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned.

But he didn't know.

I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood.

There was no "us" anymore.

Two days after Lucien and his little lover left for their Venetian holiday, I finalized the transfer of my work at the Evernight Industries core lab and submitted my resignation to the board.

Less than ten minutes later, a magical brand burned on my wrist. A “permission” from Lucien.

He clearly thought I was throwing a tantrum.

He expected me to crawl back, just like all the other times.

The other vampire researchers in the lab were practically gloating.

They thought I was finally running away, unable to stand watching Celeste be showered with affection.

"Looks like someone's finally facing reality," a young researcher snickered. "Lord Lucien is clearly much happier with Lady Celeste."

"I heard she even got the 'Moonlight Blood' supply treaty."

"Octavia used to guard that project like it was her own life."

I ignored their jealous stares, a cold smile playing on my lips as I gathered my files.

"You're right," I said, my voice like the calm surface of a frozen lake. "The Cain Conglomerate just sent me an offer. Chief Alchemist. Double the top-tier blood supply and my own independent research fund. Thank you all for your... concern over the years."

Their laughter died in their throats.

The Cain Conglomerate were our clan's sworn enemies and one of the wealthiest factions in all of North America.

No one dared to speak.

The moment I teleported out of Evernight's gates, the bond seared my skin again. Stronger this time. More urgent.

Lucien's voice echoed in my mind, laced with his usual commanding tone. "Octavia, fix the contaminated 'Daybreak' synthetic blood. Now. You have one hour. This is an emergency."

I stopped.

He clearly didn't know the High Council itself protected my employment contract. Resigning was my right. As for his authority as Lord... that would soon be gone, too.

"I'm not at the lab anymore."

Three seconds of silence on the other end.

"What do you mean?" Lucien's voice turned dangerous.

"I quit."

"You dare abandon your post?" His rage nearly burned through the bond. "As your Lord, I command you to return to the lab immediately! Or I'll throw you in the clan dungeons!"

I opened the sample case he'd sent. A golden liquid reeked of decay, its magical energy in chaos.

This was the "Daybreak" project I had been forced to hand over to Celeste.

The same blood product, optimized with werewolf genetics, that the clan had once hailed as our future.

Now, it was ruined.

Classic. Celeste gets the glory, and I clean up the mess.

The memory hit me like a shard of ice. I was back in that basement.

Three days without sleep.

The feral rage of beast blood coursing through me as I fought to stabilize one single data point.

Lucien’s only message was a cold command: 'Celeste needs that formula to prove herself.'

My struggle for survival was just a stepping stone for his new love. In that moment, something inside me had died for good.

"Lucien, don't be so hard on Octavia," Celeste's voice purred through the link, a sickeningly sweet poison. "She's just acting out because she's jealous of us."

"But don't worry," she continued. "I'll work day and night for the clan. I won't let you down."

"You hear that?" Lucien's tone instantly softened, dripping with affection. "Celeste is willing to work herself to the bone for this clan, while you, at this critical moment—"

I activated my family’s magic mirror.

Far away in a Venetian castle, moonlight poured in.

Lucien was dancing with Celeste.

She wore a silk gown the color of fresh blood, his hand resting on the small of her back.

They kissed, they shared blood, lost in each other.

"Day and night," I repeated, my voice a flat, dead calm. "It must be exhausting."

"Octavia, what is that tone?" Lucien sensed the shift. "I don't care what tantrum you're throwing. Get back to the lab. Now."

I severed the connection.

Two minutes later, my phone vibrated. A new post on the Sanguine Web.

It was a photo from Celeste.

She was wearing the Moongod's Tear, an ancient blue gem our ancestors died to protect.

It sparkled against her pale throat.

Next to the photo was an ornate, rune-carved jewelry box, opened to reveal the full set of House Valerius heirlooms.

According to ancient law, only the one true blood-mate of the family could wear them, and only at a formal ceremony.

The caption was simple: "An eternal love deserves the most precious witness."

The likes were climbing into the thousands.

The comments a torrent of fawning praise and petty envy.

I scoffed. Just as I was about to leave, my phone buzzed again.

An alert from my personal blood vault.

Lord Lucien has withdrawn ten vials of Elder Blood.

My five-hundred-year-old private reserve.

Each drop was priceless, enough to grant a lesser vampire centuries of power.

The recipient: Celeste.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

Once again, Lucien was taking what was mine—what I had bled for—to pave the way for his new pet.

For five hundred years, my personal vault had been open to Lucien.

The rarest vintages.

Blood of ancient dragons, tears of fallen angels, the essence of long-dead sorcerers.

He took it all. He used it to supply the clan, or to buy lavish gifts for his new pet.

For me? Not a single drop.

Whenever I questioned him, he responded with cold silence.

Sometimes for months.

My last dozen messages through the bond had, as expected, gone unanswered.

Enough.

I teleported directly into the depths of the Valerius vault.

Inside the ancient underground palace, my millennia-old collection rested in crystal containers.

This wasn't just a storeroom; it was a source of my family's power.

The very walls were carved with the protective runes of my ancestors.

I placed my hand on the Valerius family crest etched into the central altar.

"By blood and soul, I revoke all access."

The rune flared with silver fire, then went dark. Lucien's access to my vault was gone. Completely.

Knowing him, lost in the revelry of the Feast, he wouldn't notice until tomorrow, or the day after.

Not until he needed something from my collection to impress some dignitary.

And sure enough, the call didn't come until late the next night.

The bond exploded with his fury.

"Octavia!" Lucien's voice was more frantic than usual, but still thick with arrogance. "I need a vial of 'Morning Star's Dew' for the Prince of Venice. Why is my access denied? This isn't a game, Octavia. Open it. Now!"

"I sealed it," I replied, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Have you lost your mind?" he shrieked. "Is this because I gave the Elder Blood to Celeste? What game are you playing now?"

"It's my vault, Lucien," I said, my tone like ice. "Not the clan's public pantry."

"We are blood-mates!" he roared. "What's yours is mine! This was for clan diplomacy. Don't be so childish."

"You never asked."

"Octavia, stop this," he said, taking a deep breath, trying to force a "gentle" tone. "I admit, I've neglected you. I will make it up to you after the Feast. Now, I am ordering you to remove the seal. You have ten minutes."

"Or what?"

"Or I will use my authority as Lord and have you punished for defying your mate!" His patience snapped. "Don't think I won't do it!"

I laughed.

"Go ask Celeste," I said, my voice flat. "She has ten vials of Elder Blood now. That should be enough for you to play with for a while."

I cut the connection, letting my phone screen glow hot from the barrage of his angry blood-curses before I turned it off.

Next, I walked to the deepest part of the castle—the Ancestral Sanctum.

This was the heart of the entire estate.

The Heartstone at its center powered all the castle's magical defenses and its very life force.

I pressed my palm against the cold Heartstone and began chanting the slumber spell in the old tongue of my family.

"In the name of Valerius, I, Octavia, retract the gift of my bloodline. Let this place sleep, until the blood calls it forth once more."

As the last syllable fell, a deep tremor ran through the ground beneath me.

The silver veins of energy flowing along the walls receded like a tide.

One by one, the ever-burning candles in the sanctum went out.

The warm air turned frigid and sharp.

I could feel it in my bones. The living, magical pulse of the castle had just... stopped.

It wasn't a home anymore. It was a tomb. A massive, cold, stone shell.

With that done, I took the papers I had prepared and went to the Council. The ancient building was shrouded in perpetual twilight.

"Lady Octavia," one of the three ancient vampires on the council said, his gaze heavy. "The dissolution of a blood-bond is no small matter. We must be certain the affection between you is truly broken."

I presented the magical projections—the photos of Lucien and Celeste, the records of him raiding my vault, and evidence of his years of cold neglect.

"The evidence is compelling," an elder nodded. "But according to the High Code, we must still confirm Lord Lucien's own intent."

"He is in Venice."

"Then we will use the soul-link," the head elder said grimly.

I hesitated.

A soul-link was the deepest, most unguarded connection between blood-mates.

It was a gamble. Like slicing my own soul open for the world to see.

But seeing their unyielding expressions, I knew it was the only way.

I closed my eyes and activated the soul-link with Lucien.

Instantly, the Venetian night and the sounds of a lavish party flooded my senses.

Lucien was at the gala, Celeste clinging to his arm as they laughed with other guests.

He felt the link activate and his thoughts came through, cold and sharp.

'Octavia, what are you stirring up with the Council now? Sealing the vault wasn't enough? You're trying to get my attention this way? It's pathetic.'

'The Council requires confirmation of our feelings to rule on my petition to dissolve the bond,' I sent back calmly.

'Feelings?' A sneer echoed in my mind. He deliberately shielded his surface thoughts, projecting an air of magnanimous frustration for the Elders to "overhear." 'Octavia, our union was for the good of the clan. You need to be more mature. Don't let petty jealousy cloud your judgment.'

The Elders exchanged a look, seeming to hesitate.

I didn't argue.

Instead, deep within the soul-link, I projected a single, crystal-clear image at him: the crested offer from the Cain Conglomerate and the sight of my back as I walked away from Evernight Industries forever.

His mask shattered.

The voice that came through wasn't for the Elders anymore.

It was the raw, possessive roar from the depths of his soul.

'You dare! Your talent, your research—you—belong to me! To my clan! You think you can just run away? You aren't going anywhere without my permission! When I get back, I will teach you the price of betraying me!'

The wave of undiluted, violent ownership washed over the sanctum. The three Elders all closed their eyes, as if physically struck by the raw psychic force.

"That is enough," the head elder said, opening his eyes. His voice was tired but firm. "The soul does not lie. Lord Lucien's true intent is clear. Lady Octavia, we will begin the dissolution process."

"How long will it take?"

"One month. The severing of a blood-bond requires a full lunar cycle to unravel the ancient magic. One month from now, the contract between you will be broken. All rights and obligations will cease to exist."

The sky was moonless when I left the Council chambers, but I had never felt so light.

One month. And I would be free.

I dissolved into shadow and slipped through the main gates of my castle—only to find the great hall filled with the sound of laughter.

My personal silver candelabras at the entrance were gone.

In their place stood a pair of tacky gold ones, carved with crescent moons and roses.

They weren’t even lit.

A thin layer of dust already coated the cold metal, since the castle’s ever-burning magical flames had been extinguished.

I stepped into the hall.

The air was cold and dead, stripped of the warm, magical pulse that had always felt like home.

Celeste was lounging on my great-grandmother's sarcophagus, wrapped in a thick fur blanket.

The priceless gown of celestial silk she lay on, my gown, was crumpled beneath her like a common rag.

She held my personal goblet—carved from the skull of an ancient sorcerer, able to purify any impurity from blood.

But she was frowning at it, seemingly displeased with the cold temperature of its contents.

"Octavia."

Lucien stepped out of the shadows.

He had clearly rushed back from Venice, furious.

The moment he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed his face before it hardened into a dark scowl.

"So you decided to come back," he said, his voice frigid. "Abandoning your post, sealing the vault... what the hell do you think you're doing?"

My eyes swept the hall. The ancestral portraits of my family line were gone, replaced with gaudily framed pictures of Celeste.

"This is my home," I stated calmly.

"Our home," Lucien corrected. "And it's Celeste's temporary residence now."

I remembered how he had promoted the useless girl.

When she was first turned, she couldn't even perform a basic blood purification, yet he made her a core researcher.

When she botched a billion-dollar biotech deal with the human government, he rewarded her with even more resources instead of punishing her.

And now she was making herself at home in my ancestral seat.

"Octavia," Celeste suddenly said, her voice cloyingly sweet. "Don't blame Lucien. It's all my fault."

She sat up, putting on a pitiful act. "I shouldn't have used your things, but it's so cold in here... and my residence was... accidentally destroyed by the Blackwood Pack. I had nowhere else to go. Lucien was just being kind—"

"Kind?" A cold laugh escaped me. "You call this kindness? Letting her squat in my home?"

"Enough," Lucien cut in. "Celeste is only staying for a few days. Stop throwing a fit." He strode towards me, looking down his nose at me. "You, on the other hand, humiliated me in Venice by sealing the vault. The entire clan is laughing at me."

"Then you should learn some restraint."

"Restraint?" Lucien's voice rose. "I am the Lord! Those resources are meant to serve the clan!"

"Octavia, please don't fight with Lucien," Celeste interjected at the perfect moment. "I can always move to the clan's public housing—"

"No," Lucien waved her off. "As compensation, Octavia should give you the master chambers."

I stared at him, incredulous. The master chambers were the private rooms of every Valerius matriarch before me. They held the secrets and heritage of my family line.

"That is my room."

"We are blood-mates. Technically, that makes it my room, too," Lucien said, as if stating the obvious. "It's temporary. She'll be gone once her new residence is built."

"Thank you, Lucien," Celeste said, a flash of triumph in her eyes, though her words were meek. "But I don't want to make things difficult for Octavia—"

"It's not difficult," Lucien waved impatiently. "Octavia is my blood-mate. She should be able to see the bigger picture."

He turned back to me, his tone turning threatening. "Also, you should transfer the castle's wards to Celeste. She's living here now. She needs to be safe."

"And the transfer fee?"

"A symbolic few drops of common blood," he declared with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Must we haggle over trivialities?"

A few drops of common blood.

The castle's wards were valuable enough to buy a small clan, and he thought he could take them for nothing.

"If you refuse—" Lucien narrowed his eyes. "I might have to ask the Council to halt the dissolution of our bond. Your behavior tells me you need more time to mature."

Celeste stifled a laugh, already picturing my surrender.

I looked at them both and found the situation utterly absurd.

"The wards?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, laced with something like pity. "Lucien... can't you feel it? This castle is dead."

The air went still. The smiles on Lucien and Celeste's faces froze.

"What?" Celeste was the first to react, her voice shrill. "What did you say?"

"Dead?" Lucien's eyes went wide. He looked around the hall, truly seeing the oppressive cold and silence for the first time. "What did you do?"

"I simply took back what belongs to House Valerius," I said, looking right at him. "It no longer protects anyone. Especially not unwelcome intruders. Congratulations. You're living in a tomb now."

"You..." Lucien's face went slack, then ashen.

The realization hit him: he'd been demanding an empty, worthless shell.

"Change it back," he snarled. "Now!" Of course, if you cooperate, I might consider not blocking the dissolution. But if you continue this tantrum—"

I cut him off. "What I mean is this: our bond severs in one month. Completely. And there is nothing you, or the Council, can do to stop it."