Mireya’s heart was pounding, drowning out everything except the scary sight unfolding only a few feet ahead of her.
One moment Mark was yelling at her, gripping her, humiliating her in the parking lot, then the next, Lucien was suddenly there, moving with supernatural speed, grabbing Mark by the throat and slamming him against the wall.
Mark couldn’t breathe.
His feet dangled uselessly above the concrete. His hands clawed at the iron grip around his throat. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in.
But nothing could save him.
Not from ‘this’.
The man holding him didn’t even look strained. He just stood there, arm extended, like Mark weighed nothing.
“Please,” Mark tried to say. It came out as a choked wheeze.
The man’s eyes were wrong. Too pale. Too cold. And when the light hit them just right, they glowed green. And as Mireya stared harder, she saw it: the terrifying length of fangs coming out slightly when he exhaled.
Mark’s bladder nearly gave out.
“Stop!” Mireya’s voice cut through the haze. “Please, you’re killing him!”
The man didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at her.
Mark’s lungs screamed. His chest burned. His body started going limp.
This was it. He was going to die in a parking garage. Killed by some freak in a suit.
“I’ll do whatever you want!” Mireya screamed. “Just let him go! Please!”
That got his attention.
The man’s eyes shifted to her. Slowly. Like he was considering it, still choking Mark.
His eyes were sharp and piercing, It was green and the glow was immaculate, and those fangs, God, his fangs glistened in the morning light. Something primal, ancient, and deadly emanated from him, but still, he was beautiful.
“Lucien…” she whispered again, voice trembling.
He didn’t respond. He simply tightened his grip on Mark’s throat, causing Mark to choke harder, gasping, making a guttural sound that didn’t even sound human anymore.
Mireya’s heart twisted.
Mark deserved many things, beating, consequences, maybe even fear. But death? Despite everything, despite all the cruelty, he was still her husband, or wasn’t he? The father of her son. The man she once believed she loved.
That belief might have died, but he hadn’t. And she couldn’t watch him die.
“No,” she cried, stumbling forward. “No, please, please spare him. I will do whatever you want, just let him go. Please.”
Tears blurred her vision, her voice cracking painfully. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded, she just needed Lucien to stop.
For one long, suffocating moment, Lucien didn’t speak. He just stared at her, surveying her expression, her posture, her trembling hands. His eyes darkened, turning red with a pulse of some strange energy she didn’t recognize.
Then he spoke.
“You sure?” His voice was low, almost too calm, as his fingers dug deeper into Mark’s’s skin.
“Yes,” she breathed out instantly, without thinking. “Yes, please.”
“Whatever I want?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Mireya sobbed. “Anything. Just don’t kill him.”
The man stared at her for what felt like an eternity. He sighed, not in frustration, but in a way that suggested this answer was exactly what he expected.
Slowly, almost disappointingly, he opened his hand.
Mark dropped.
He hit the ground hard, gasping and coughing. Air flooded back into his lungs in painful, desperate gulps. He rolled onto his side, clutching his throat.
Everything hurt.
She instantly rushed to him, her hands over his shoulders, his chest, unsure where to touch.
“Oh my God! Mark, are you okay?” she whispered, panic flooding her voice.
Behind her, Lucien’s voice cut through the air with unsettling satisfaction.
“Excellent.”
The word chilled her to the bone.
She turned just slightly, enough to see him standing there, hands on his hips, as though this entire display had been nothing more than a business transaction.
“Get up,” the man said.
Mark looked up.
The man wasn’t talking to him. He was talking to Mireya.
She was still on her knees, checking on Mark. Tears streaked her face. She looked like hell.
Good. She deserved it.
Then he spoke again, voice echoing across the parking lot.
“In exchange for his worthless life,” he said, and Mireya lifted her gaze to meet his. “Your life… is now in my hands.”
She froze.
Lucien continued, “You will be with me, day and night, until I figure out who you really are… and why I can’t touch you.”
Mireya blinked, her mind was spinning. She barely caught the words, but when it clicked, when the meaning of the bargain she had just made settled in her bones, she stopped breathing.
A bargain with a monster.
“Very well then,” Lucien said, straightening his posture. “Come to my office, now. Don’t keep me waiting.”
And before she could respond, before she could process his command, he simply turned and walked away. After a few steps, and in a heartbeat, he was gone.
Mark finally managed to pull himself to his feet. His legs shook. His throat felt like it had been crushed.
He looked at Mireya.
She was just standing there, staring at the spot where the man had disappeared.
“What the hell was that?” Mark rasped.
Mireya turned, Are….are you okay? she asked softy.
“Spare me that, you little devil!” he barked, clutching his throat and staggering toward the car.
She scrambled after him.
“Mark, I just want to—”
“Get out! Just get out!” he snapped, forcing himself into the driver’s seat despite the limp in his step.
“Mark… can you drive?” Her voice cracked with genuine concern.
“Get back to work, Mireya. Don’t you ever think of quitting,” he shot back harshly.
“Stay away from me,” he muttered. “You and whatever the hell that thing was.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. His hands shook as he started the engine.
The engine roared to life, and before she could utter another word, he drove away without looking back.
Mireya stood there, shaking.
Alone again.
Her eyes drifted to the ground, broken bottles of alcohol and beer.
Then she turned toward the building.
Her fate now led her straight back to the monster’s office.
She inhaled deeply, forcing strength into her trembling spine.
“Well… his office, right?” she whispered to herself. “I will be there.”
And with one last breath, Mireya walked forward toward the man who now owned her life.