Adrian sat in the cold, damp cell beneath Cassian’s stronghold, the iron bars barely visible in the dim light. His wrists were raw from the silver-lined cuffs that kept him bound, and the air reeked of blood and decay. The silence of the dungeon pressed heavily against him, but he refused to show weakness. He had been through worse.
As the hours stretched into an endless night, a flicker of shadow danced against the walls. Adrian’s sharp gaze snapped to the movement. Slowly, a figure materialized—a towering presence with crimson eyes that gleamed like embers in the dark.
The Vampire King.
“You look comfortable,” the King remarked, his tone smooth and mocking as he stepped closer to the bars. “Though I’d have thought exile would suit you better than a cage.”
Adrian sat up straighter, his muscles tense. “I didn’t invite company,” he said coldly. “Especially not yours.”
The King’s laughter echoed through the dungeon, low and menacing. “You amuse me, boy. Even now, when your life is in ruins, you keep that sharp tongue. Tell me, does it comfort you to know that while you rot in this hole, Lyra prepares for her future with Cassian?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened, but he refused to rise to the bait.
The King leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re wasting your time here. They don’t want you. Not Lyra, not her pack. But I have a better offer.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not interested.”
“You haven’t even heard it,” the King countered, his tone syrupy and persuasive. “You’ve been cast out like trash, discarded by those you love. But with me, you could have power beyond your wildest dreams. Lyra would see what she’s missing. You could take her back, take everything back.”
Adrian’s lips curled into a snarl. “She’s not a prize to be won.”
The King’s expression darkened, the glimmer of charm fading. “You’re a fool to cling to such ideals. Lyra will bear Cassian’s heirs, and you’ll be forgotten—a ghost of a man who couldn’t protect her.”
Adrian’s anger flared, but he forced himself to remain composed. “I’d rather rot in this cell than betray her.”
The King’s smirk returned, cold and cruel. “We’ll see how long your resolve lasts. Pain has a way of changing a man’s mind.”
With a wave of his hand, the King’s apparition began to fade, his parting words lingering like a curse. “When you’re ready to accept the truth, call for me. I always answer.”
***
Misery discovers Adrian’s capture through whispers among Seraphine’s spies. The news rattles her, her mind racing as she imagines Adrian enduring Cassian’s jailers’ cruelty.
“I have to save him,” she whispers to herself, her resolve hardening.
Eryon finds her packing her weapons. “Where are you going?” he asks, his voice sharp with suspicion.
Misery turns to him, her crimson eyes glistening. “Adrian’s been captured. If I don’t do something, he’ll die.”
Eryon’s expression darkens. “You could die too.”
Misery steps closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve this, Eryon. I knew him since he was still a child. You don’t have to understand, but I have to try.”
She leans up and kisses him softly, tears streaming down her face. “Goodbye, Eryon.”