There are some beasts that should never be born, creatures too cruel, too merciless for this world. Thorne was undeniably one of them.

I marched through the hallways as if I carried some hidden superpower, ignoring the hushed whispers curling from the corners.

“Who is she? And why is she so eager to die?” one voice slipped through. Instead of stopping me, it only fueled my adrenaline.

I can’t fade yet. That single phrase throbbed in my mind, the only anchor keeping me steady.

The hallways were emptier than I expected, strangely free of guards. I could only assume they had all rushed out to face Thorne. And deep down, I knew there was no way he would survive the night without help. Foolishly, I thought I could be that help.

A mistake I would soon come to regret.

When I reached the two massive doors leading outside, I found them heavily guarded. I ducked behind a stone pillar holding the lantern that illuminated the entrance of the mansion.

I have to get to Thorne before anyone else. That’s the only way to save him. But I didn’t know how until an opportunity struck.

A deafening roar shattered the night, followed by chaos at the door. I stepped out from behind the pillar and froze. Thorne was already there, driving his claws into the chests of guards, tearing a path into the mansion.

I wasn’t the only one who felt it—the dark aura rolling off him was suffocating. He was nothing like the other beasts I had seen. His long, curly hair should have made him look calm, almost princely, but instead it framed something far darker. He wasn’t just a killer. He was death itself.

“Why must he be the one I save?” My heart sank in disgust.

Before my eyes, wolves crumpled in cold blood. My gaze pierced through the flickering light, landing on the shallow smile playing on Thorne’s lips, the look of a man enjoying his slaughter.

“You crazy psycho!” I screamed, letting all hell loose.

His expression didn’t change, but he stopped. Everyone stopped. Even the pendulums in the hall seemed frozen, as if the world itself had halted at the sound of my voice.

“What do you think you’re doing, you crazy beast?!” I yelled again, desperate for my words to build some kind of shield around me. But in this world, women;the Shes were nothing more than rags, beneath respect.

I pushed forward through the frozen moment, red-shot eyes burning, anger welding up inside me, when a hand caught me from behind.

“Elysian, you shouldn’t be here. What are you doing?” It was Harry. At this point, he was more or less my guardian angel. His eyes brimmed with fear and concern.

“Why is an inferior walking around without chains on her ankles?”

It was Thorne’s voice, my first time hearing it. And gods, it was the most intimidating and hauntingly the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. If Killian’s voice pinned my feet to the ground, Thorne’s voice sank them beneath it.

“She is not a slave,” Harry shot back, standing firm. “She’s Sire’s guest. And you’re not allowed in here tonight.”

“You dare speak to me with such disrespect? You must have lost your mind. Bring that wench to me.”

His voice was smooth, too cool for someone drenched in rage, and yet it carried a hypnotic weight. It bound everyone to silence, everyone except Harry.

“I’m sorry, I can’t obey your command,” Harry replied without hesitation, his tone sharp, his stance unwavering.

Then he leaned back, whispered, “I think you should be heading to your room now, Elysian.”

I wasn’t ready to leave, but I had to listen. I turned to go, but Thorne’s voice boomed again, deeper, darker.

“I wouldn’t want to kill my brother’s favorite, but you’ve left me no choice, Harry. You know I don’t tolerate disrespect.” His words dripped with danger as he stepped forward, a bitter smile curled on his lips.

“You’ve always looked for an excuse to kill me. Do it now!” Harry roared and charged.

In the blink of an eye, the two collided in a gruesome fight. Harry was skilled, even without time to shift into his wolf, his strikes were precise, targeting Thorne’s fatal spots. But against the reaper himself, he was no match.

Barely a minute passed before Harry was dangling in the air, Thorne’s hand tightening around his throat.

“No! Not Harry, he’s the only one I have here!” My eyes widened in terror, my heart thundering, my knees trembling as I saw blood trickle from Harry’s eyes like tears.

“Killian!” I screamed.

I don’t know why his name came to me, or why it burst out of me. But shouting it gave me strength. Without thinking, I rushed forward and jabbed Thorne in the shoulder.

He staggered back, not from the punch itself, but from something else. The protection charm. Arlie’s words flashed in my mind.

Harry dropped to the floor, limp. I fell beside him, shaking his shoulders. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

“Harry… Harry, please…” My voice cracked, but even his lashes stayed still.

“Is he dead? Is he..?”

The rest of my words never escaped. A savage kick struck my side, hurling me across the room. My back slammed against the brick wall.

“You insolent wench! Who are you?” Thorne’s voice growled, dark and thunderous. He advanced, eyes blazing.

“You’re dead!” he snarled.

Right. I’m dead. There’s no way I’d survive in a world like this anyway. Tears clouded my vision as I closed my eyes, whispering surrender.

But then; a miracle.

A thunderous snarl ripped through the hall, stopping Thorne mid-strike.

I opened my eyes.

Killian. He stood before me, locked in brutal combat with Thorne. This time, it wasn't a little crash. It was a clash of gods, the two most powerful beasts tearing into each other.

I wanted to stop it. But I couldn’t. My limbs betrayed me, my strength bled out, and as my heart slowed, darkness swallowed me whole.