The silence was louder than anything Trisha had ever heard.
It pressed against her ears, wrapped around her thoughts, filled every corner of the penthouse until it felt suffocating.
There was nothing to do.
Nowhere to go.
No distraction strong enough to quiet the storm inside her mind.
She sat curled up on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the city beyond the glass walls. The skyline glittered—alive, busy, normal.
Normal.
The word felt foreign now.
Her thoughts circled endlessly, dragging her back to the same moments again and again—
Lucien's voice.
Calm. Certain.
You think only you were waiting for her.
Her chest tightened.
Waiting.
Why would anyone be waiting for her?
She pressed her fingers to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.
"No," she whispered to herself. "No, this doesn't make sense."
Nothing made sense.
The ring.
That vision.
The way it hadn't felt like a memory—but something worse. Something broken. Something unfinished.
And Rowan—
Her breath faltered slightly.
He hadn't answered.
Not really.
He had stood there, controlled as always, but she had seen it.
That flicker.
That hesitation.
That fear.
Her stomach twisted.
"What aren't you telling me?" she murmured.
The words felt heavier now.
More real.
More dangerous.
She exhaled sharply, pushing herself off the bed.
"I can't do this," she muttered, pacing the room. "I can't just sit here and—think. I am losing my mind"
Because thinking was driving her insane.
Every second in this penthouse felt like a cage.
Beautiful.
Luxurious.
And completely suffocating.
"This isn't me," she said firmly.
She wasn't someone who hid.
She wasn't someone who waited.
She had a life.
College. Classes. People.
A world that didn't revolve around ancient clans and blood and secrets.
Her jaw tightened.
"I'm going," she decided out loud.
Not out of the city.
Not yet.
But out of this cage.
She needed something normal.
Something real.
And whether Rowan liked it or not—
she was going back to college.
******
She found him in the far end of the penthouse.
Not in the living area.
Not in the study.
But in a quieter, dimly lit room she hadn't noticed before.
The moment she stepped inside—
she stopped.
Rowan stood near the window, one hand holding a glass.
Tall.
Crystal.
Filled with something dark red.
Her breath caught.
For a second—
her mind refused to process it.
Because it looked so… ordinary.
Like wine.
Like something elegant. Refined.
But it wasn't.
She knew it wasn't.
The realization settled slowly.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Blood.
Rowan lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured sip.
Completely unfazed.
Like there was nothing strange about it.
Like it was just another part of his day.
Trisha swallowed.
Hard.
And suddenly—
she felt it.
That sharp, undeniable reminder—
He was not human.
He never had been.
He was different.
And she—
didn't belong in his world.
Rowan's gaze shifted toward her.
He had already noticed her presence.
Of course he had.
"You should knock," he said calmly.
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Sorry," she muttered.
Her eyes flickered briefly to the glass again.
Then away.
"I didn't know you were… busy."
"I'm not," he replied.
He set the glass down without hesitation.
Like her discomfort mattered more than whatever he had been doing.
That… didn't help.
Not really.
Because now she was aware of it.
Of him.
Of everything he was.
And everything she wasn't.
She crossed her arms, shifting slightly.
"I need to talk to you."
Rowan studied her for a moment.
Carefully.
Taking in the tension in her posture. The restlessness in her eyes.
"I assumed you would," he said.
That irritated her slightly.
"Of course you did."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
But it didn't last.
"Tell me," he prompted.
She inhaled deeply.
Steadying herself.
"I want to go back to college."
Silence.
Not long.
But enough.
Rowan didn't react immediately.
He didn't refuse.
He didn't agree.
He just… looked at her.
And for a moment—
she couldn't read him.
"I can't stay here like this," she continued quickly. "I'm losing my mind, Rowan. Sitting here, doing nothing, thinking about—everything—it's not helping."
Her voice tightened.
"I need something normal."
That word again.
Normal.
His gaze softened slightly.
Not dismissive.
Not cold.
Understanding.
"I know," he said quietly.
That caught her off guard.
"You… do?"
"Yes. You are right,"
He moved slightly closer, his expression more serious now.
"This would do you good," he admitted. "A distraction. Structure. Something familiar."
Hope flickered in her chest.
"So you'll let me go?"
"I'll allow it," he corrected.
She rolled her eyes.
"Of course you will."
But she didn't argue.
Not this time.
Because he wasn't refusing.
That was enough.
"For now," he added.
Her brows pulled together.
"For now?"
His gaze darkened slightly.
"You won't go alone."
She exhaled sharply.
"Rowan—"
"No."
The word was firm.
Unyielding.
"You won't go anywhere alone. Not after what happened."
She hesitated.
Because she knew what he meant.
The attack.
Lucien.
Everything that followed.
"He will try again," Rowan continued, his voice quieter now. "Lucien doesn't make moves without intention. And he doesn't stop halfway."
A chill ran down her spine.
"Try to what?" she asked softly.
Rowan didn't answer immediately.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"Take what he believes belongs to him."
Her stomach dropped.
Before she could respond—
the door opened.
"What are you two bickering about now?"
Seraphina.
Of course.
She walked in like she owned the place, her presence instantly shifting the energy in the room.
Confident.
Effortless.
Unbothered.
Trisha groaned softly.
"Nothing."
"That's a lie," Seraphina said casually, crossing her arms. "You only sound like that when you're arguing with him."
"I'm not—"
"She wants to go back to college," Rowan cut in.
Seraphina paused.
Just slightly.
Then looked at Trisha.
Really looked.
"Of course you do," she said after a moment.
Trisha blinked.
"That was… easy."
Seraphina hummed thoughtfully.
"It makes sense."
She paced once across the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
Then stopped.
Decision already made.
"Then it's settled."
Trisha frowned.
"What is?"
"I'll come with you."
Trisha froze.
"No."
Seraphina raised a brow.
"No?"
"No, no,no" Trisha repeated quickly. "No, absolutely not. That is a terrible idea."
"Is it?" Seraphina tilted her head slightly.
"Yes," Trisha said immediately. "You can't just show up at my college like—like that."
She gestured vaguely.
"At least try to blend in."
Seraphina glanced down at herself.
Perfectly tailored outfit.
Sharp.
Elegant.
Intimidating.
She smiled slightly.
"Why blend in when you can stand out?"
Trisha stared at her.
"You're impossible."
"And yet," Seraphina said lightly, "I'm the best option you have."
Rowan didn't disagree.
Of course he didn't.
In fact—
he looked… amused.
That annoyed her even more.
"You're enjoying this," she accused.
"A little," he admitted.
Her jaw tightened.
"This is my life we're talking about."
"And we're trying to keep you alive in it," Seraphina replied calmly.
That shut her up.
Because—
she couldn't argue with that.
Not completely.
Seraphina stepped closer.
Her tone softened slightly.
"I won't attend your classes," she said. "I'll be nearby. Watching. That's all."
Trisha hesitated.
Because part of her—
understood.
And another part—
was just tired.
Tired of fighting everything.
Tired of being trapped.
Tired of not having control over her own life.
She exhaled slowly.
"Fine," she muttered.
"But if anyone asks, I don't know you."
Seraphina smirked.
"Of course you do."
Rowan's gaze lingered on Trisha.
Satisfied.
Relieved.
More than he let on.
"Good," he said quietly.
And for the first time in what felt like days—
Trisha felt it.
A small sense of something close to normal.
Not real.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to hold onto.
Even if—
deep down—
she knew it wouldn't last.
*****
The next morning came faster than she expected.
And for once—
she didn't dread it.
There was something almost comforting about getting ready.
Tying her hair.
Scrubs, stethoscope,books, notes
Doing something that didn't involve thinking about vampires, clans, or ancient bonds.
She paused in front of the mirror.
Studying herself.
Trying to find something familiar.
Something unchanged.
She looked the same.
But she didn't feel the same.
Not anymore.
A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Come in."
Seraphina entered.
And Trisha immediately groaned.
"Oh my God."
Seraphina looked flawless.
Sharp blazer.
Perfect heels.
Hair styled effortlessly.
Like she was about to walk into a high-level corporate meeting.
Not a college campus.
"This is not happening," Trisha said.
Seraphina raised a brow.
"What?"
"You cannot come dressed like that."
"Why not?"
"Because people will stare."
"Good."
"That's not a good thing!"
Seraphina smiled faintly.
"I don't mind attention."
"I do," Trisha muttered.
Seraphina ignored that.
"Ready?"
Trisha sighed.
No.
But also—
yes.
Because this—
this was what she had wanted.
A piece of her life back.
Even if it came with complications.
Even if it came with danger.
Even if it came with her.
She grabbed her bag.
"Let's just get this over with."
Seraphina chuckled softly.
"This will be fun."
Trisha wasn't so sure about that.
But as they walked out—
as she stepped out into the world again—
she felt it.
A shift.
A change.
Not freedom.
Not entirely.
But something close to it.
And for now—
that was enough.
*****
Far away from them,
Lucien Blackwood was already planning his next move.
He stood in silence, one hand resting lightly against the cold glass window, his reflection staring back at him—unchanged, untouched by time.
Unbothered.
But his eyes—
his eyes were not calm.
They were sharper now.
Colder.
Focused.
Lucien straightened slowly, his posture shifting—not relaxed anymore.
Decided.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
"This time…" he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper,
"…we don't wait."
No more conversations.
No more careful words.
No more pretending this could be handled like a negotiation.
That had been for Rowan.
For Seraphina.
For appearances.
But now—
Lucien had no intention of playing by their rules anymore.
His fingers tapped lightly against the glass.
Once.
Twice.
Deliberate.
Measured.
Plans already forming.
Not impulsive.
Never reckless.
Every move precise.
Calculated.
Unavoidable.
He turned slightly, his gaze shifting toward the darkness behind him where his clan waited.
Silent.
Loyal.
Unquestioning.
"Prepare them," he said.
His voice wasn't raised.
It didn't need to be.
It carried authority.
Finality.
This wasn't a suggestion.
It was a decision.
One of them stepped forward immediately.
"Yes."
Lucien didn't look at him.
Didn't need to.
His focus remained elsewhere.
On her.
On what she was.
On what she didn't yet remember.
"They think this is under control," he continued, almost thoughtfully.
"They think they still have time."
A pause.
Then—
"They don't."
His jaw tightened slightly.
Not in anger.
In anticipation.
Because this—
this was no longer about territory.
Or rules.
Or old rivalries.
This was something else.
Something older.
Something far more dangerous.
And Rowan—
Rowan was standing exactly where Lucien expected him to be.
Protective.
Defensive.
Blind.
A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
"You were always too late," he said quietly, as if Rowan could hear him.
"And this time…"
His gaze darkened.
"…you won't even see it coming."
He turned fully now, stepping away from the window.
From the city.
From the illusion of calm.
Everything about him shifted.
Not visibly.
But undeniably.
This was no longer the man who had walked into that room with controlled politeness.
This was something else.
Something sharper.
Something far less restrained.
"The next time we meet," Lucien said, his voice low, steady, absolute,
"It won't be civil."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Certain.
His eyes lifted once more—
as if seeing something far beyond the present.
Far beyond the moment.
"And it won't be safe."
Because this time—
there would be no warnings.
No negotiations.
No boundaries respected.
Only one outcome.
And Lucien Blackwood had already decided how it would end.