The Descendant of a Pureblood

"Oh no... not again." Emma Thompson glanced at her watch and sprinted. She ran as if a blade were at her back, her doe eyes blurring with tears as the cold hospital air rushed past her. Her side-swept bangs lashed against her forehead, and her breath came in shallow, panicked hitches. She burst through the doors of Life Care Hospital the city's largest medical sanctuary and dove into the lift. "Please, just this once, let me be on time," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. When the doors slid open, the bustling energy of the ward died down. Standing in the center of the unit was Mr. Franz. He was a tower of a man, his sharp jaw clenched so tight the bone pulsed. His narrow eyes were dark with a quiet, simmering rage. "Mr. Franz," Emma whispered. "Welcome, Ms. Thompson," he barked, a terrifying, mirthless smile stretching across his face. The entire staff paused, waiting for the inevitable execution of her career. "I can explain" "Explain?" he roared, stepping into her personal space until she shrank back. "How many times? You are a doctor, yet you treat your schedule like a suggestion and your patients' lives like a game. You are incompetent. A gunk. Nothing more." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. "You are the spoiled, revolted child of rich parents. Why can't you be more like your friend? Why can't you possess even a fraction of her discipline?" Emma's vision swam. She was a second away from breaking when a voice like silk and steel cut through the tension. "Is there a problem, Mr. Franz?" Everyone turned. Elysia Anders walked toward them, her presence commanding an immediate, involuntary respect. With her almond-shaped siren eyes and a grace that seemed almost ethereal, she looked like a goddess misplaced in a sterile ward. She wore a fitted red dress beneath her white coat a bold contrast to the pale hospital walls. "Ms. Anders," Franz's tone softened instantly. "I have had enough of your friend." "Mr. Franz, please," Elysia said, her voice calm but firm. "Give her one last chance. I will personally see to her performance." "Elysia, you are the reason this unit's recovery rate has spiked. Your hard work is legendary. But her?" He pointed a trembling finger at Emma. "I'm reporting her." Elysia didn't flinch. She looked him dead in the eye. "We are a team, Mr. Franz. If you report her, you report me. If she goes, I go." The silence was deafening. Franz fisted his hands, his gaze darting between the two. Finally, he let out a jagged breath. "One last time. For you, Ms. Anders." As he stormed off, Emma collapsed into a hug. "You saved me, Eli!" But Elysia didn't hug back. She pulled away, her expression tight with hurt. She grabbed her stethoscope and began walking toward her patients. "Eli, wait! Listen to me!" Emma chased her down the hall. Elysia stopped abruptly. "Emma, stop. You have a safety net. You have rich parents. I have a grandfather who can't work anymore. I have nothing but this job. When you play late at night and show up late in the morning, you aren't just risking your life you're risking mine." "Move in with me then!" Emma offered desperately. "Life doesn't work that way," Elysia sighed, her anger melting into exhaustion as she began checking a patient's vitals. "Just... go to work, Emma. Please." A few hours later, the atmosphere shifted again. A man entered the ward, and it was as if the air itself grew heavy. He was tall over six feet of lean, magnetic power. With dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a jawline that looked carved from marble, Sky moved with a chilling, frozen elegance. "Hey, Emma," he said, his voice a deep, resonant hum. Elysia's POV Inside the quiet sanctuary of the doctors' lounge, the world began to tilt. "My head..." Elysia gasped. A stabbing pain blossomed behind her eyes, followed by a sickening pressure in her stomach. Suddenly, the lights flickered and died. The room didn't just go dark; it turned a bruised, bleeding red. She looked down and screamed though only a whisper left her throat. Thick, metallic blood was bubbling up from the floorboards, soaking into her shoes, climbing up her ankles. "Hey, Emma." ​His voice was a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate right through her. Emma felt that familiar, traitorous shiver take hold, tracing its way down her spine before she could steady herself. ​"Hey, Tristan," she breathed, hating how breathless she sounded. ​"Morning," he said, offering a casual smile that didn't quite reach the corners of his eyes. "Have you seen Elysia? I've been looking everywhere." ​The mention of the name felt like a splash of cold water. Emma didn't just roll her eyes; she physically stepped into his personal space, forcing his wandering gaze to lock onto hers. "Is she the only person you've bothered to look for this morning?" Tristan blinked, his head tilting in genuine confusion. "What do you mean?" ​"I mean..." She gestured to herself, her pulse thrumming in her throat. "How do I look today, Sky?" ​"Fantastic. You look beautiful, Em," he answered instantly. But the words were too easy, too practiced. His eyes remained polite the kind of look you give a sister or a distant cousin entirely devoid of the hunger she wanted to see. ​He checked his watch, his mind already moving on. "So, about Elysia. Any idea where she went?" ​The heat in Emma's cheeks turned from a blush to a burn of humiliation. "Not a clue," she snapped. ​She didn't wait for his reaction. She turned on her heel and hurried away, her heels clicking a sharp, angry rhythm against the floor. ​"Hey, Emma! Wait" ​She didn't stop. She couldn't let him see the way her eyes were starting to sting. "Emma? Mr. Franz," Elysia cried. No one answered. The blood rose to her knees, warm and terrifying. She scrambled for the exit, but the door had vanished. Then, a new door appeared a portal of blinding white light. A man stepped through. He was impossibly tall, his skin white as bone, and his eyes... they were a haunting, predatory green. He looked cold enough to freeze the blood in her veins. Elysia's knees gave out. As she hit the floor, the vision shattered. She was back in the lounge. The floor was dry. The lights were on. She scrambled to the door, locking it with shaking hands, staring at the wood as if the green-eyed man might burst through "Eli?" She jumped, a sob escaping her. It was Tristan. She threw herself into his arms, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing. "Eli, you're shaking," Sky whispered, his arms wrapping around her with an almost frightening strength. "The blood, Tristan... it was everywhere again," she sobbed into his chest. "And I saw him. The man from before. He was so cold." Tristan went rigid. He tucked her head under his chin, his eyes darkening. As she clutched his shirt, a sudden, violent thirst flared in his throat a hunger that had nothing to do with water and everything to do with the pulse racing in her neck. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to tighten his grip until it hurt. "I'm here," he rasped, his voice sounding different sharper. "I've got you."