It was her. It was Ella.
Its movements were fluid but wrong, the edges of its form rippling like smoke. At first glance, it was her—a perfect replica. The same cascade of dark-chocolate hair, the same pale-gray eyes that stared back at her like glassy mirrors, and the same familiar lines of her face.
But this wasn’t her.
The doppelganger’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile, as though it knew exactly how deeply it unsettled her. Its eyes glimmered with malice—a sinisterness that seemed to bleed into the very air around it. The bond within Ella thrashed violently, reacting to the thing before her, as if warning her of something darker than even the shadows themselves.
“Hello, Ella,” the doppelganger purred, its voice sickeningly sweet—her voice, but dripping with venom. “I have been waiting for you.”
Ella’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her voice trembling. “What are you?”
The doppelganger tilted its head, the mocking smile widening. “I am you, of course,” it said simply, the words sliding off its tongue like silk. “Or perhaps… the version of you they truly want.”
“They?”
The shadows pooled thicker around the doppelganger’s feet, writhing like snakes. It took a slow step forward, its gaze never leaving Ella’s, its expression sharp and hungry.
“The masters of this manor, surely,” it whispered, its voice lilting as though it were sharing a delicious secret. “You are tied to them, little dove. But no matter how much you give, you will never be enough for any of them.”
The words hit Ella like a physical blow. The bond flared again, violently unstable, as if the shadows themselves were feeding off her doubt and fear. She staggered back a step, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“That is a lie,” she snapped, though her voice trembled at the edges.
“Is it?” the doppelganger crooned, circling her now, its form blurring slightly as it moved—half-solid, half-shadow. “Do you feel it, Ella? Jealousy? Guilt? The way they pull you apart piece by piece, as though you belong to all of them but to none of them truly? Oh, how they fight for you—how they feed on you.”
“Stop it,” Ella hissed, her fists trembling as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But the doppelganger’s words burrowed deep, latching onto the insecurities she tried so desperately to bury.
“They bought you, didn't they?” The doppelganger’s voice softened, taking on a tone almost tender. “You are simply a blood doll, a thing they own, no matter how much they dress it up with endearments and stolen moments. And when they get tired of you, when the thrill fades… they will toss you aside.”
“That is not true!” Ella cried, the bond roaring within her like a tempest.
But the doppelganger only smiled, a twisted mimicry of her own expression.
“Isn’t it? You have seen their fears. You have felt their turmoil. How long until their desire for you turns to resentment? How long until you become their ruin?”
Ella’s chest tightened as the bond began to ripple wildly, her connection to the brothers pulsing erratically as the shadows fed. The doppelganger wasn’t just taunting her—it was feeding, its form growing sharper, more solid, with every flicker of doubt it pulled from her.
“You cannot win,” it whispered, stepping closer until it was mere inches from her. “But I can. I can give them what you never will—a version of you unbroken, untamed, free of guilt or hesitation. I will show them their deepest desires.”
“No.” Ella’s voice trembled, her resolve shaking, but she forced herself to stand tall. “They are not yours. You will never be me.”
The doppelganger laughed softly, a sound that sent chills down her spine. “Oh, but I do not need to be you, little dove. I only need to take your place.”
And before Ella could react, the doppelganger dissolved into a swirl of shadows, moving with unnatural speed. It darted down the corridor, its laughter echoing off the walls, mocking and cruel.
Ella’s heart leapt into her throat as realization hit her.
It was going after the brothers.
“No!” she shouted, breaking into a sprint after the shifting form.
The bond flared violently within her, warning her—they could feel it, too. The doppelganger was using the bond, twisting it, manipulating the connection she shared with them to draw them in.
The hallways blurred as she ran, her bare feet skimming over the cold stone floors. She turned a corner sharply, catching a glimpse of the doppelganger’s form slipping through a door at the end of the hall. Ella’s heart pounded as her fear morphed into something sharper, stronger—determination.
If it reached Adrian, Vincent, or Sebastian, it would feed off their desires, their fears—everything the bond made them feel—and twist it against them. She couldn’t let it happen.
With a cry of effort, she threw herself through the door, the weight of her desperation carrying her forward.
But she was too late.
The doppelganger stood at the center of the room, solid and radiant, as though it had siphoned the very air itself. Its smile was wicked, triumphant, as it turned toward her.
“Poor, sweet Ella,” it whispered mockingly. “You have already lost, but still refuse to accept it yet.”
From behind Ella, footsteps sounded—slow and deliberate. She turned sharply, her blood running cold as Adrian appeared, his icy-blue eyes locking onto her.
But it wasn’t her he looked at—it was the doppelganger.
The bond thrashed violently, panic flaring through Ella as Adrian took a slow, measured step forward.
“Ella?” he murmured, confusion lacing his voice.
“No,” real Ella said, her voice raw with desperation. “Adrian, it is not—”
And the doppelganger turned to him, her expression tender and perfect. “Adrian,” it said, her voice dripping with sweetness, “I have been waiting for you.”
Adrian froze for a bit, his gaze clouding with something Ella couldn’t place. She watched helplessly as his expression softened, as though the doppelganger’s presence calmed something restless inside him. The bond flared in confusion and pain, blinding her to everything but the silent scream reverberating in her chest.
“Adrian!” Ella cried, stepping forward, her voice sharp with desperation. “Look at me! That is not me!” her voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp with desperation, but it fell on deaf ears.
Adrian didn’t turn toward her, didn’t even blink. His icy-blue eyes were locked on the shadow-Ella, his emotions a swirling storm she couldn’t break through.
The doppelganger tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk that was both seductive and cruel.
“My dearest Lord,” she murmured, her voice an echo of Ella’s own but laced with something sweeter, darker. “Do you feel it? Our bond, between me and you.” She stepped toward him, every movement languid, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. “I cannot deny it anymore. I am yours.”
Adrian’s breathing grew heavier, his body tensing as if he were fighting some unseen pull. But still, his eyes never wavered.
“Ella…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and uncertain, though his steps carried him closer to the doppelganger.
“No,” Ella pleaded, surging forward, trying to grab his arm, his shoulder—anything—but her hand passed straight through him, as though she were nothing more than mist. She stumbled back, her pulse pounding violently in her ears. “No, Adrian! It is not me!”
The doppelganger smiled, slow and knowing, her gaze sliding toward real Ella for only a moment—mocking her before turning back to Adrian. “You do not have to fight anymore,” she whispered, her voice silken and unrelenting. She reached out, her hand brushing against his chest, and Adrian shuddered under her touch.
Adrian’s jaw clenched, his breathing shallow as the bond flickered with raw energy, pulling him deeper under her thrall. He didn’t push her away—he leaned in.
“No!” Ella screamed, tears blurring her vision. She pounded her fists against the invisible wall that seemed to separate her from them, desperate to break through, but nothing worked. “Adrian, look at me! That is not—”
Before she could finish, the doppelganger pressed her lips to Adrian’s. It was slow, deliberate, a kiss that ignited the bond like wildfire. Adrian froze at first, then responded, his hands moving to the shadow-Ella’s waist, pulling her closer.
Ella’s scream caught in her throat, her voice breaking as she watched in helpless horror. Her chest burned with the raw ache of the bond twisting violently inside her.
A voice broke through the haze.
“What the fuck is this?”
Vincent.
The door slammed open, as he stormed inside, his dark eyes blazing with fury. The bond flared violently between them, seething with his anger, his jealousy—a raw, dangerous thing that Ella felt as if it were her own. He took one look at Adrian and the doppelganger tangled together and exploded.
“What are you doing?” Vincent growled, his voice a snarl as he grabbed Adrian’s shoulder and wrenched him away. Adrian stumbled back, dazed and confused, as though shaking off a dream.
“Vincent,” the shadow-Ella purred, turning toward him with a smile that was all sin and promise. She moved closer, her form rippling faintly, but her face remained perfect, seductive. “You are here. I was hoping you would be.”
Vincent’s gaze darted to her, his expression hard, his jaw tight. “What the hell is going on, Eleanor? What was that?”
The doppelganger stepped closer to Vincent, her tone soft, inviting. “You do not have to fight anymore either,” she whispered, her hand brushing against his arm. “I love you too, Vincent. You know I do. Join me, join us and we can end this. Together.”
Vincent’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. The bond writhed between them, the shadows manipulating it, twisting his emotions into something unrecognizable. For a moment, Ella thought he would break.
“No,” she breathed, panic crawling up her spine. “Vincent, it is not me. Please, hear me out, it is not me.”
The shadow-Ella smiled triumphantly, her hand sliding up Vincent’s chest, her lips drawing closer to his ear. “You deserve this. You deserve me. We can have everything.”
Vincent’s hand twitched, his body going still. His eyes—dark and unreadable—met hers, searching. For a heart-stopping moment, Ella thought he might give in.
Kiss it. Take it.
But then his gaze hardened in the moment.
“Wrong target,” he said.
In one swift motion, Vincent pulled a long dagger from the sheath in his boot and slashed it across the doppelganger’s throat. The blade tore through her like paper, the cut hissing and spitting black smoke as the shadow-Ella staggered back, her form already disintegrating.
Her scream echoed through the room, a sound of rage and agony as her body dissolved into nothing but dark vapor, evaporating into the air.
The instant the shadow vanished, Ella stumbled forward, the invisible barrier shattering around her. Adrian and Vincent turned sharply, their gazes locking on her with equal parts shock and confusion.
“Eleanor?” Vincent whispered, his voice hoarse.
Ella nodded, clutching her chest as the bond settled, though her body still trembled from the ordeal.
“It was not me,” she said, her voice shaky but firm. “It was… this.”
Vincent’s brow furrowed, the tension in his shoulders barely easing. “The shadows tried to twist us again,” he muttered, his grip still tight on the dagger. “And it nearly succeeded.”
Adrian looked pale, his expression unreadable as he processed what had happened. “How did I not see—”
A soft voice interrupted from behind them.
“Lucien and Sebastian have finished preparing the ritual.”
They turned to see Raphael standing in the doorway, his face grim, his usual calm laced with urgency.
Ella swallowed hard, her pulse still racing. “Then we need to end this,” she said, her voice steadying. “Before it tries again.”