The pact
705 Words
Juliette didn’t sleep.
Not really.
The journal lay open beside her, pages trembling like a pulse—fragile, unfinished.
Her mother’s words were poison seeping into her veins: the pact, the blood, the legacy she never asked for but now owned.
Juliette wasn’t just the runaway’s daughter.
She was the heir to something ancient… and dangerous.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall.
Her heart clenched.
The vault door groaned open.
Lucien appeared—calm, cold, every inch the predator.
Juliette rose, her eyes locked on his like a challenge.
“You knew everything,” she said, her voice low but steady.
He didn’t flinch.
“Yes.”
“You let me walk blind.”
His lips curved—a slow, knowing smile.
“I gave you the journal.”
She snapped, “That was a sentence. Not a choice.”
He stepped closer, and the air between them thickened, charged with unspoken promises and threats.
“You want a choice? Fine.”
Lucien reached into his coat and tossed something onto the floor.
Juliette bent, heart hammering as she pulled out an envelope.
Inside: a plane ticket, a new passport, a key.
“You can leave,” he said, his voice silky and sharp. Disappear. Run like she did.”
She looked up, eyes narrowing. “No threats? No commands?”
“No lies,” he said simply. “I won’t stop you.”
The freedom she thought she wanted to be fluttered in her chest—but the longer she stared, the more hollow it felt.
“What happens if I go?” she whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“They’ll find you. Eventually. And when they do…” His eyes darkened with something dangerous. “You’ll be alone.”
“And if I stay?”
Lucien’s gaze dropped to her lips, then back up, burning with a slow heat.
“I protect you. And you fight back.”
Juliette’s fingers curled around the envelope, knuckles white.
She was tired. Tired of running, Tired of shadows chasing her every step.
Her breath caught.
She met his gaze, fierce and trembling.
“I stay.”
His nod was almost imperceptible—then he pulled a slim black ring from his coat.
A serpent coiled around it, sleek and lethal.
“Put this on.”
Juliette slid it over her finger.
The metal burned—not painful, but alive.
A reminder she was no longer the girl who fled.
Lucien’s eyes darkened with something fierce—possession, maybe desire.
They left the vault together.
Up narrow stone steps.
Into the heart of the mansion.
The air shifted—colder. Heavier. Like the house itself was watching.
Juliette paused at the edge of the hallway.
“Something’s wrong,” she whispered.
Lucien turned toward her.
A sharp click.
Then—
The explosion ripped through the east wing.
Glass shattered.
Smoke surged.
Lucien yanked her down hard.
Juliette coughed, lungs burning, heart pounding.
Screams ripped through the house.
Lucien’s hand found her grip tight, grounding.
“They’ve found us.”
They ran.
Down secret passages.
Through dust-choked tunnels.
Juliette’s lungs screamed, but she refused to stop.
“Who are they?” she gasped.
“The Hollow Court,” Lucien growled. “The ones who started the pact. The ones who want it back.”
Juliette stumbled.
“The pact’s not a curse, is it?”
“No.”
“What is it?”
Lucien’s eyes flashed—danger and something darker.
“A weapon.”
They burst into the greenhouse—overgrown, glass cracked, shadows deep.
Juliette’s hand trailed over a marble statue.
Etched into the base: To the Daughter of the Pact.
Her breath hitched.
Lucien turned, face shadowed but fierce.
“They’ve known who you are longer than you have.”
Boots pounded closer.
Lucien drew a dagger-sharp and gleaming.
“Stay behind me.”
Juliette stepped forward, her voice low, electric.
“No. I’m done hiding.”
From the broken glass above, a shadow dropped.
A figure cloaked in black.
A voice—dark, familiar—cut through the haze.
“Hello, little flame.”
Juliette froze.
That voice—
It couldn’t be.
Her breath caught.
The hood fell.
And her world shattered.
Her brother.
Alive.
- Writer
