The storm passed by morning.
But the real storm—one of blood, secrets, and betrayal—was just beginning.
Mila stood at the window of her new suite. Elias had moved her there after the attack, into the room beside his. A silent declaration.
She hadn't argued.
There were no locks between them now. No more pretending she didn't trust him.
Still, her hands trembled slightly as she traced the edges of the phoenix ring now resting on a chain around her neck.
She hadn't taken it off since that night.
The symbol was more than a leash for Elias's grandfather.
It was a promise of power.
And danger.
---
Later that day, the air in the manor shifted again.
Footsteps. Heels clicking on marble. Voices that didn't belong.
Elias met her in the hall, jaw tight.
"They're here," he said grimly.
"Who?"
"My family."
---
The great hall was full of shadows and old blood.
Three strangers stood by the fireplace—each with an Ashbourne look: tall, cold, beautiful in the way broken glass was beautiful.
The woman was dressed in red silk, her hair twisted like a crown. "So this is the little stray," she said, voice venom-soft.
The older man beside her raised a glass. "Charmed, truly. Though I expected someone… taller."
The younger man, who looked too much like Elias to be anything but his cousin, just stared at Mila.
Hungrily.
"Enough," Elias snapped. "You weren't invited."
"You lit the war signal," the woman said. "That ring woke every blood oath in this family. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Mila stepped forward. "He wanted the truth. You all just brought more lies."
The cousin smiled slowly. "She has teeth."
"And a dagger," Mila said sweetly. "Want to see where I keep it?"
He backed off with a chuckle.
But the woman in red stepped closer.
"You think Elias cares about you?" she said. "He's using you. Just like he used Iris. And look where she ended up."
Mila's fingers twitched toward the ring around her neck.
But it was Elias who moved first.
"Speak her name again," he said, low and dangerous, "and I'll rip that pretty tongue from your mouth."
The woman's smile faded.
Mila's heart thudded.
She'd seen Elias angry. Cold. Calculating.
But this was something else.
This was personal.
---
They left the hall in silence.
Back in Elias's private quarters, he poured them both a drink — something dark and bitter.
"I shouldn't have brought you into this," he said finally. "I was selfish."
Mila sat across from him, knees nearly touching his. "You weren't selfish. You were surviving."
He looked up at her. "That's what you're doing too, isn't it?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she reached for his hand. Slowly. Deliberately.
Their fingers laced together — tight, warm, real.
"I don't want to survive this," she whispered. "I want to win. With you."
Elias exhaled shakily.
Then leaned forward — just a fraction.
"Mila," he said, voice rough, "If I kiss you now, I won't stop."
She didn't hesitate.
"Then don't."
He closed the distance between them.
Their lips met — not gentle, but urgent, like two people who had waited too long, held back too much.
Mila melted into him as his hands cupped her face. He kissed her like she was the last light in a dark world — like she was something he didn't deserve, but needed anyway.
She pulled him closer, fingers tangled in his shirt, his heartbeat thudding against hers.
There was fire in it. Hunger. But also something softer — aching and terrified.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Elias rested his forehead against hers.
"If anything happens to you…" he began.
"Nothing will," Mila said. "Not while we fight together."
---
That night, Elias gathered the remaining loyal guards.
Mila stood beside him — not as a girl in need of rescue, but as a partner in this war.
"We're not just protecting this house," Elias told them. "We're rebuilding what it was supposed to stand for. Justice. Honor. And no more blood sacrifices to feed one man's hunger."
He turned to Mila. "You've all seen what she's capable of. She's not a weakness. She's a weapon. And she's mine."
No one dared argue.
Especially not after Mila showed them the marked sigil glowing faintly on her palm — a new scar, given when she touched the phoenix ring during the earlier ritual.
"She's chosen," Elias said. "That means the house listens to her too."
Mila lifted her chin. "So let's give it something to hear."
---
But while they planned their next strike…
The enemy struck first.
A scream tore through the halls.
One of Elias's guards — the youngest — was found dead. No wounds. Just drained, eyes wide with fear.
And carved into his chest:
"ONE BY ONE."
Mila looked at Elias.
"We have to end this," she whispered.
Elias nodded. "We will. But we need to go deeper."
"Where?"
"To the crypt," he said. "That's where it all began. That's where we'll end it."