Evelyn’s POV.

I barely slept that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—Gideon Blackwell. But it wasn’t a dream, not really. It felt more like… watching memories that didn’t belong to me.

He was standing in a war-torn field, his hands soaked in blood. Behind him, corpses lay in piles, twisted and broken. His face didn’t change, not even a flicker of emotion. But when he turned, his eyes met mine—as if he could see me, inside the vision.

I woke up gasping.

The sheets were tangled around my legs, drenched in sweat. Claire was asleep in the hospital bed beside me, her breaths calm and even. Alive.

Alive because of him.

I slipped out of the chair, rubbing at the ache in my chest. I could still feel it—that invisible thread. It tugged somewhere deep beneath my ribs, pulling me toward something. Someone.

Gideon.

I needed answers.

By the time I reached the mansion again, the front door was already open.

He was waiting.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” he said without greeting, voice like velvet soaked in ice. “The bond.”

I stepped inside slowly. “What did you do to me?”

“I gave you what you begged for,” he said simply. “A life for a life.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I snapped. “You changed me. I can hear things I shouldn’t. Smell blood. I’m dreaming things I’ve never lived.”

He didn’t deny it. “You’re tethered to me now. It’s the nature of my blood. It doesn’t heal without binding.”

My stomach twisted. “What does that mean? I’m your servant? Your puppet?”

“No,” he said calmly. “It means you survive. As long as I do. But it also means… we’re connected. Emotionally. Psychically.”

My breath hitched. “You mean—”

“You feel what I feel. You see what I remember. And if you resist, it’ll hurt.”

I took a shaky step back. “This is insane.”

“Is your sister alive?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

“You asked for a miracle, Evelyn. I gave you one. But miracles,” he added, eyes narrowing, “always come with a price.”

And suddenly, I realized:

He wasn’t asking for permission anymore.

He never had.

I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists. “You could’ve warned me.”

Gideon tilted his head. “Would you still have agreed?”

“No,” I admitted bitterly. “I would’ve found another way.”

“There was no other way.” His voice dropped lower, darker. “The sickness that took hold of your sister… it wasn’t human. Nothing in your hospitals would have helped her.”

My spine stiffened. “What are you saying?”

He stepped closer, close enough for me to see the fine lines around his eyes—eyes that had seen centuries. “Something cursed her. That kind of spell requires balance. If death was promised, something had to be taken in its place.”

“And that something was me?”

“You offered yourself willingly.”

I flinched, remembering the way I’d knelt at his feet in the dark, begging. “That wasn’t willing. That was desperation.”

“Desperation is the purest form of truth,” he murmured.

My chest tightened, fury and confusion twining together like smoke in my lungs. “So what now? I’m your… blood-bonded puppet until I rot?”

“You won’t rot,” he said, voice smooth like still water. “You’ll change. Your body already is. Your senses will sharpen. Your strength will grow. But your hunger…”

He let the word hang.

“…will become a problem.”

I took a step back. “I’m not drinking blood. Not again.”

“You will,” he said. “Or you’ll go mad.”

A shiver raced down my spine.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I whispered.

“You asked for her life,” he countered. “And I gave it. But you don’t get to choose the cost after the deal is sealed.”

I looked down, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

He sighed—surprisingly patient. “You’re not my prisoner, Evelyn. You can leave, if you want. But the bond doesn’t break. Not easily.”

I looked up at him again. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“For now?” He turned and began walking deeper into the mansion. “Learn.”

“Learn what?”

“To live with what you are becoming.”

I hesitated. But then I followed him—like an idiot. Because part of me knew, deep down, that whatever was happening… I wouldn’t survive it alone.

We walked in silence through a corridor lined with towering mirrors. But the strangest thing? His reflection wasn’t in any of them.

Only mine.

And the look in my eyes?

I barely recognized it.

The next morning, I woke up sweating.

Not from heat. From him.

I’d dreamed of Gideon again—only it wasn’t really a dream. It was memory. His. I was sure of it. I could feel the ache in his chest, the cold weight of loss pressing down like stone. There’d been blood on his hands. Fire in the sky. And a girl, her face blurred, but screaming his name.

I touched my chest. It still ached where his bite had marked me.

Something was wrong with me. My body felt wired, my skin too tight. Every sound was louder, every scent sharper. The neighbor’s dog barking two houses down felt like it was howling right in my ear.

And then there was my sister.

Claire.

She watched me like I was something strange now. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t even meet her eyes without hearing the rush of blood beneath her skin. I could smell It when she got too close. Her heartbeat made my teeth ache.

I needed to get out of there.

I bolted from the house, heart racing, nails digging into my palms as I ran with nowhere to go. But somehow, instinct carried me back—to Gideon’s door.

He was waiting on the steps, like he knew I’d come. “You’re early,” he said.

“I’m losing it,” I whispered. “I think I’m going insane.”

“You’re not insane.” He reached for me slowly, deliberately. “You’re hungry.”

I stared at his hand. “I don’t want to be this.”

“You already are.”

Before I could answer, I smelled something behind me. Sweet, sharp, alive.

I turned.

A jogger.

I couldn’t stop staring at her neck.

And for the first time…

…I didn’t want to run.

I wanted to feed.