Chapter 3
I was under house arrest.
With no medicine, I had no choice but to stay in a room that was always bright.
During the day, I threw open every curtain, letting sunlight flood the place.
At night, I switched on every lamp I could find, too scared to blink.
Two sleepless nights in a row left my eyes bloodshot.
The maid said I was being extravagant and reported it to the butler.
The butler wasted no time passing it on to Victor.
Victor never came to see me. He merely cut off my allowance.
*****
On the third day, around noon, Lydia pushed open my door.
She was carrying a plate of pastries, wearing a fake smile. "Evelyn, I went into town and looked into it for you."
She set the plate down on the table, giving a sharp clink. "The best doctor in town says there is no such illness as vacuum suffocation syndrome."
I slumped against the wall, staring at her with the last bit of strength I had left. "What the hell do you want?"
Lydia suddenly leaned in, her voice dropping low, her smile curling with jealousy and spite. "I want to watch you die.
"You've had Victor all to yourself for five years. It's time you gave him up to me."
She straightened up, turned toward the door, and her eyes instantly reddened. "Evelyn, have you been lying to Victor all this time?"
I froze, following her gaze.
Victor stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, but his face was dark.
He strode in, coming to a halt right in front of me, his gaze locked onto mine. "Evelyn, tell me. Are you really sick, or are you making excuses not to fit in with the Blackwood family?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
The first year, I showed him my medical records, but he said he'd never heard of such a thing.
The second year, I passed out from my illness in the underground corridor, and he said I was being overly delicate.
And now, he was here with Lydia, confronting me.
"I'm not lying to you." My throat burned, and each word scraped painfully out of me.
Victor's frown deepened.
Lydia sighed softly beside him. "Victor, don't push Evelyn so hard. Maybe she's got her reasons."
That was the final straw.
Victor's patience snapped. "Guards."
He turned his back on me. "Take Mrs. Blackwood to the basement. No one is to let her out without my permission."
Two burly guards burst in and seized me by both arms.
My legs gave out beneath me. I was so weak that they had to half-carry, half-drag me out of the room.
As I was dragged past Victor, I used every bit of strength I had left to grab his sleeve.
My grip was desperate, veins standing out on the back of my hand, nails nearly piercing the fabric.
My voice shook so much that I could barely speak. "Victor, please, don't make me stay there. I really will die."
He glanced down at my hand, his eyes icy.
There was no warmth in his gaze; there was only impatience.
He raised his hand and forced my fingers off his sleeve.
His touch wasn't rough, but it was merciless.
"Evelyn, enough of your ploys," he said, then ordered. "Take her away."
I was dragged down into the underground corridor.
The heavy stone door slammed shut right in front of me.
*****
I snapped back to my senses.
Trapped in the basement with every vent sealed shut, I gulped down my final lungful of blood‑laced air.
I drew the final rune of the blood pact with my blood, then marked its closing sigil.
The contract was complete.
A bone-deep chill swept through me, turning my blood to ice.
My last seven years of life were drained away in this suffocating crypt.
That life force transformed into a stream of energy, silently coursing through the stone tiles, surging toward Victor.
With my shattered fingers, I reached out one final time, brushing the rough edge of the coffin.
My mind was growing hazy.
Memories flickered before my eyes.
I remembered the first time I met Victor. He saved me when I was about to be turned into one of the vampires.
He told me I could stay by his side as a human, so vampires and people could finally get along.
He said he'd always protect me, but promises never really meant anything.
However, none of it mattered.
Right before everything went black, a single tear slid down my cheek.
If I were given a second chance, I would wish our paths never crossed again.
My head slammed against the cold stone floor.
My heart stopped.
When the door finally opened, a thin beam of light pierced the darkness.
Victor stood outside, his voice still as cold as ever. "Evelyn, your night in there is over. I've come to get you."
The room was silent.
No one was left trembling, no one pleading with him.
Victor frowned and strode into the crypt.
I couldn't see his expression, but I knew he'd seen me.
I was curled up in the corner, my body cold and stiff.
Seven of my nails were broken, and the coffin walls were covered in bloody claw marks, some deep, some barely visible.
Some splintered nails were wedged deep in the grooves of the wood.
Victor stopped a few steps away.
His breath caught in his throat.
"Evelyn," Victor called out.
There was a tremor in his voice that he himself did not detect.
No one answered.
Victor crouched down and grabbed my wrist.
It was cold and stiff, and there was no pulse.
He switched hands, pressing his fingers to my neck.
There was no warmth, no blood flow, no heartbeat.
"Stop pretending." Victor swallowed hard, forcing the words out in a hoarse rasp. "Get up. Stop lying to me."