The vault door slammed shut with a resounding clang, the sound echoing like a final judgment in the dimly lit room. Lilith whirled, pounding her fist against the unyielding metal, but it didn’t budge. The air was thick with the scent of aged relics—dusty tomes, rusted weapons—and something sweeter, headier, from the flickering candles scattered around. Pillows and a soft rug covered the floor, transforming the space into a makeshift den. Mia’s handiwork. Lilith cursed under her breath, mind-linking frantically, but the signal bounced back, muffled by some ward. She was trapped—with Jackson.
The room felt warmer, the candles’ flames dancing higher, releasing a subtle fragrance, like wild herbs and moonflower, that made her skin tingle.
In a matter of seconds, the candles’ scent intensifie
