Chapter 34 Vivian
VIVIAN
I’d holed up in Raffaele’s private library, sifting through brittle scrolls and dusty tomes, praying he wouldn’t suddenly appear to drag me out.
My nerves were frayed, but my determination burned brighter to find the answers I needed about this so-called curse, about Raffaele’s father and the control that bastard still seemed to have over him.
Raffaele seemed determined that no one could help him, but I refused to believe it was a hopeless cause.
I gingerly spread out a scroll on the desk. The parchment was delicate, its edges frayed and brittle, as though it might disintegrate with the slightest wrong move. The scroll detailed the history of the ritual chamber within the Gallanti estate, the same room where I had been bound to Raffaele.
Lord Thorne had designed the chamber and infused it with blood magic to strengthen him whenever he conducted rituals there. The room had been used to extract magical energy from captives, draining them to fuel the estate’s defenses and illusions. Most of those captives had not survived.
I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. The image of Raffaele’s bloodied face from his father’s last attack flashed in my mind. How much of this estate’s power was built on stolen lives? And how much of Raffaele’s strength was tied to this dark legacy?
The air shifted suddenly, a suffocating cold seeping into the room. My skin prickled, and I froze, every instinct screaming at me to run.
A figure loomed in the shadows, taller and more menacing than anything I’d ever seen.
Malevolence emanated from him. He was dressed in a dark hooded robe that seemed to absorb the light, his features sharp and angular, almost too perfect to be human.
His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his lips curved into a sinister smile, revealing teeth that were unnervingly sharp.
But it was his eyes that sent ice through my veins—pits of endless black that seemed to see through every layer of my soul.
“Hello, little mouse,” he purred, his voice a low, velvety menace. “What are you doing in here, I wonder?”
I stumbled back, nearly knocking over the desk behind me. “Who... who are you?”
He stepped closer, his movements predatory and deliberate. “You mean my son hasn’t told you about me?” His smile widened, and my stomach turned. “I’m Lord Thorne.”
Oh, fuck.
My heart pounded as I tried to think of an escape route. “I—I didn’t mean to intrude,” I stammered, hating how small and fragile my voice sounded.
He tilted his head, his gaze raking over me like a predator sizing up prey. “Oh, but you have. This is no place for a delicate little human like you.” He licked his lips, the motion slow and deliberate, and I shuddered.
“I’ll… I’ll just leave, then.”
He laughed, a low, chilling sound that echoed through the room. “Leave? Oh, no, my dear. Not yet. You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Digging through things that don’t concern you.”
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stand my ground. “They concern me if they involve your son.”
At that, his expression darkened, his smile turning cruel.
“Ah, yes. My son. You reek of him, you know. His scent clings to you like a brand.” He took a step closer, and I stepped back instinctively, my legs hitting the desk behind me.
“I wonder, what could he possibly want with a filthy human girl like you?”
“Stay away from me.” I despised the tremor in my voice.
“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together,” he murmured, his tone dripping with malice. “I wonder how long it will take before you break.” His hand shot out, and his fingers brushed my face, cold as death.
“Such a fragile thing,” he mused, his voice almost gentle. “It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long in The Below.”
I flinched and slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
His eyes gleamed with sadistic amusement. “Feisty. That’s good. It’ll make breaking you all the more satisfying.”
The instant Lord Thorne wrapped his bony hand around my wrist, the world dissolved into an all-consuming darkness. My stomach lurched as though I were free-falling, and the air itself felt thick, heavy, like molasses clinging to my skin.
And then, as abruptly as it began, the sensation ended. My feet hit solid ground, but the nausea remained, and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself. Celeste had talked about veilstepping with Luca, but I never imagined it would be this disorienting.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Lord Thorne purred behind me.
The place was a nightmare come to life. Dim, flickering light from torches mounted on the walls barely illuminated the grotesque scene before me. The foul stench of rancid meat assaulted my nose. I gagged and covered my nose.
Half-eaten carcasses were scattered across the floor, some unrecognizable in their state of decay. Strange, shadowy shapes that shifted and writhed as if alive lined the walls, and in the far corner, I spotted tattered and stained fabric that I realized with horror were underwear.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered, stumbling back a step, only to bump into Lord Thorne’s unyielding chest.
“What’s wrong, little mouse? Not to your liking?”
I spun around, backing away from him until my shoulders hit the wall. “Take me back,” I demanded, though my voice trembled. “Take me back to Raffaele. He’ll explain everything. This is a misunderstanding.”
“Raffaele?” Lord Thorne’s lips curled into a sinister smile.
“Ah, so you are close with my son, hmm? Close enough to call him by his birth name. How quaint. Tell me, little human, do you think he’ll come for you if I decide to keep you here?
Or perhaps you’d prefer to explain why you were snooping in places you didn’t belong? ”
My heart pounded, my mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse. “I didn’t even want to marry him. I—”
“Marry him? What an interesting turn of events.”
The blood drained from my face. Shit. Shit. I had thoroughly fucked up. He didn’t know.
Lord Thorne’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
“Ah, there it is. The guilt. The fear. You’re so easy to read, little mouse.
” He took a step closer, and I pressed harder against the wall, as if I could disappear into it.
“Didn’t want to marry my son, huh? Tell me, what were your plans, then? Betray him at the first opportunity?”
“No!” I shook my head frantically. “I—”
He didn’t give me a chance to finish. With a flick of his wrist, shadows surged toward me, coiling around my arms and legs like living chains.
I screamed, struggling against the invisible force, but it was futile.
I was dragged from the room, the shadows pulling me through the air as if I weighed nothing.
We entered another chamber, this one even darker and colder than the last. The walls here pulsed, alive with some dark, malevolent energy. I barely had time to register the grand four-poster bed in the center of the room before the shadows slammed me onto it.
“No! Stop!” I screamed, thrashing as hard as I could, but the shadows pinned me down, stretching my arms and legs until I was sprawled in an X-shape across the bed.
Lord Thorne stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at me with calm amusement, as if this were all a game to him.
“Humans don’t belong in my world. Raffaele knows that.
You really should have stayed in your place,” he said, his voice silky smooth.
“But since you seem so intent on meddling in matters far beyond your comprehension, perhaps it’s time you learned what happens to those who defy me. ”
Tears streamed down my face as I pulled desperately at the shadows holding me down. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t do this. I’ll leave. I’ll never come near you or your son again. Just let me go.”
He tilted his head, feigning consideration. “Tempting. But where’s the fun in that?”
I cried out, the sound raw and filled with terror, as he reached out and brushed my cheek.
His icy touch repulsed me, and bile rose in my throat.
“So fragile,” he murmured. “So breakable. It’s a wonder my son hasn’t shattered you already.
I can imagine what you offered him in return for your life.
” His lips curled into a menacing scowl.
“Stop! Please! Raffaele will—”
“Raffaele will do nothing,” he snarled. His eyes burned with a hatred so intense it felt like it might consume me. “He is nothing without me. Everything he has, everything he is, is because of me. Do you think he’ll risk it all for a pathetic, little human?”
I closed my eyes, choking on a sob. The bond between Raffaele and me flared, a faint thread of hope in the overwhelming darkness. Please, I thought desperately, though I wasn’t sure if I was reaching out to him or to some higher power. Please find me.
The sound of fabric tearing was a visceral thing, like the snap of brittle bones, and freezing air rushed over my exposed chest. My pulse thundered in my ears as I twisted uselessly against the shadows holding me down.
“Such delicate little things, humans,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that grated against my nerves. It felt like he was dragging his words across my skin, each syllable a fresh violation. “Easily breakable. Easily discarded.”
Another violent tug from his magic shredded what was left of my shirt. The remnants fluttered to the floor like dead leaves, leaving my upper body bare. Icy dread pooled in my stomach, and I thrashed harder against the shadows.
“Stop!” Tears burned down my cheeks, hot streaks of helplessness. “Don’t do this!”
His laughter was deep and guttural, devoid of humanity.
He tilted his head, observing me with the kind of fascination one might reserve for an insect caught under glass.
“Oh, little mouse, you intrigue me. So small, so fragile… and yet somehow, you’ve managed to tangle yourself in my son’s web. I wonder, what does he see in you?”
His breath was fetid, a putrid mix of rot and decay that made bile rise in my throat as he leaned closer. “Does he like your pretty little pussy?” he hissed. “Has he become whipped by it? That boy has always been weak, no matter how I tried to carve it out of him.”
Something in me snapped. I spat at him, the glob landing just shy of his face, but it was enough to shatter the veneer of helplessness I felt. “Go to hell,” I snarled.
His lips twisted into a monstrous grin, his teeth jagged and stained. “Oh, my dear, you’ll find I’m already there. And now… so are you.”
With a flick of his wrist, my remaining clothing vanished. Every instinct inside me screamed to curl in on myself, to shield what little dignity I had left. But the shadows were merciless, spreading my arms and legs even wider as if to underline how utterly powerless I was.
Lord Thorne’s gaze raked over me, and I wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and let the darkness swallow me whole. “Beautiful,” he said mockingly, the word dripping with venom. “I wonder, does my son appreciate you like this? Or is it the way you scream that he enjoys most?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, though the tremor in my voice betrayed the terror clawing at my insides.
“Perhaps later,” he said, his tone so casual it made my skin crawl. From the folds of his robes, he produced a small knife, the blade glinting wickedly in the dim torchlight.
My chest constricted so painfully I thought my ribs might crack. “No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “No, please—don’t.”
He climbed onto the bed with an almost leisurely air, his weight dipping the mattress as he loomed over me.
The knife hovered inches from my skin, and though it hadn’t yet touched me, I could feel its icy promise.
“Screaming won’t help you. No one can hear you down here.
My son has seen to that. Such a considerate boy. ”
The blade kissed my shoulder, lightly at first, but sharp enough to draw blood. I whimpered, biting my lip so hard I tasted copper, desperate to stifle the sobs threatening to spill out. Lord Thorne tilted his head, studying me with twisted curiosity.
“Let’s make this a bit more interesting,” he said, dragging the blade downward. Pain flared in its wake, a fiery sting that had me crying out despite myself. Tears blurred my vision as he carved the line all the way down to my hip—each moment stretched to an eternity of agony.
“Stop!” I screamed, thrashing wildly against the bonds. “Please, stop!”
He ignored me, entirely focused on his gruesome artistry. Another line followed, a mirror to the first, from my shoulder to the opposite hipbone. Sobs tore from my throat. Blood welled up along the cuts, warm and sticky as it trickled over my skin.
“There,” he said finally, sitting back to admire his work. “Much better. You wear my mark well, little mouse.”
My body shook uncontrollably from the searing pain. My thoughts were a frantic blur of desperation. I needed to get out. I needed Raffaele.
Lord Thorne leaned down until his face was inches from mine, his breath hot and rancid against my skin. “You’ll learn your place soon enough. And when you do, you’ll beg me for mercy.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging to the faint bond between Raffaele and me. It was a tenuous thread, but it was the only hope I had left.
Please, I begged silently. Please, Raffaele. Find me. Save me.