Chapter 27: The Watcher's Mark

Theo hastened out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him. His heart pounded, his breath coming in ragged and uneven. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep the monster inside him at bay—the part of him that cared nothing for guilt or pain or consequences. That reckless part that only craved satisfaction, regardless of the cost.

He flexed his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers, still feeling the warmth of Elena’s skin on his palm. The soft scent of lavender from her hair clung to him, trailing him like a ghost as he hurried down the hallway toward the grand entrance.

He needed air, needed space between them—needed anything that could dull the fierce temptation swirling inside him. He hated himself for it, but something dangerously intoxicating had stirred inside him when he had bent Elena to his will. Some dark, primal part of him had wanted to keep her under his compulsion, to claim her fully. Unsavory images flickered in his mind, making his throat tighten as he swallowed hard, trying to push them away.

Damn it.

He wanted her. Wanted her in ways that made his insides twist with need. The truth of it made his body tense, a bitter battle between desire and restraint waging within him. He wanted to believe he could suppress these feelings, bury them deep—but he knew it was already too late.

Theo stormed through the grand entrance of Arthur's estate, the cool night air hitting his face as he stepped outside. It didn’t calm him the way he’d hoped. The raw want that had flared between him and Elena still coursed through his veins, making it impossible to think straight. Every second he had spent in that room felt like a battle with his own damn instincts.

As he made his way down the stone steps, he heard a familiar voice from behind.

“Elena’s awake, I take it?” Arthur’s voice was calm, but there was an edge of knowing to it that made Theo’s irritation flare even more.

He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap. Of course Arthur could read him so easily—it was infuriating. He stopped, turning halfway to glance back at Arthur, who was standing at the threshold, his eyes sharp with unspoken understanding.

“Why do you have to say everything like you already know?” Theo muttered, the frustration clear in his voice.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, his gaze steady and unflinching. “Because I’ve known you a long time, Theo. You’re not nearly as good at hiding your emotions as you think.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Theo rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Arthur always had a way of seeing through him, and it grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit.

Arthur studied him for a long moment before speaking, his tone softening just slightly. “You can’t keep punishing yourself forever.”

Theo groaned, running a hand over his face. “Don’t start with this again, Arthur. I’m not in the mood.”

Arthur stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You’re burying yourself in guilt to avoid feeling anything else, Theo. Do you really think that’s wise?”

Theo’s irritation spiked. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered, a sharp edge to his voice. “Remind me, how long have you been begging for forgiveness from a father who cursed you?”

Arthur’s expression shifted, just enough to show the hit had landed, but he said nothing. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—before he masked it, his calm exterior returning.

Theo sighed heavily, the tension between them palpable. He didn’t want to argue, but the truth was that Arthur’s words had struck too close to home. There was always a part of him that resisted hearing these things, especially from Arthur.

After a long pause, Arthur finally spoke, his tone gentler but still firm. “It wasn't your fault, Theo. Holding yourself responsible for their deaths won't save you from the truth.”

Theo didn’t respond. What could he say? He shifted the topic, his voice a little less sharp. “Why did you tell me that Elena was the key to finding the other artifacts?”

Arthur took the cue, letting the previous tension slip away. He seemed reluctant to drop the subject but relented. “Because, according to my research, the only people who can retrieve the artifacts from their resting places are humans with a strong connection to the Creator.”

Theo frowned. “A strong connection meaning what, exactly?”

“I believe Elena may be a descendant of the Creator,” Arthur continued, his tone serious. “One of her ancestors was likely a child of the second son.”

Theo closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That explains a lot.”

Arthur paused, his eyes studying Theo. “Care to share?”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Theo hesitated for a moment, before nodding. “When we were on the hilltop, I had some of Elena’s blood on my hand. I touched the artifact, and it started to glow. It... burned me. Like it was reacting to her blood.”

Arthur’s expression shifted, concern clouding his features. “It burned you?”

Theo flexed his hand again as if reliving the sensation. “Yes. I’ve touched the artifact before without a problem, but with her blood—it felt alive. It was like it was rejecting me.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, his gaze sharpening as he processed this. “That’s... troubling. It means Elena’s bloodline is even more entwined with the artifact than I realized. It likely recognizes her. And that makes her more valuable—and more vulnerable.”

Theo’s jaw tightened. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “We’ll have to be careful with how we handle this. And she needs to be told—sooner rather than later.”

Theo sighed, the weight of everything settling heavily on his shoulders. “We’ll tell her soon.”

“Just... be mindful of the dangers, Theo. Her bloodline puts her in the crosshairs of more than just Lucian.”

Theo gave a curt nod, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’m going to grab a few things from her apartment,” he muttered, starting down the path away from the estate.

Arthur’s voice followed him as he left. “Be careful. Lucian will be out for blood.”

***********

Theo moved through the shadows, his steps quick and silent as he made his way back toward the city. The crisp night air cooled his skin, but it did little to calm the storm inside him. Every step brought him closer to Elena’s apartment, but his thoughts were miles away.

Theo took out a little piece of paper from his pocket and stared at it. The paper was dyed red with his blood. Most of the instructions Isabell had scrawled on it had faded but the words at the bottom were still clear.

I forgive you

Theo hadn’t allowed himself to think about her since his escape from Lucian’s estate. But now, alone in the quiet streets, the memories surged back.

Had Lucian figured it out? Had he realized it was Isabell who had helped him flee? The thought twisted in his gut like a knife. Lucian wasn’t a fool—he would know eventually, if he didn’t already. Theo’s fists clenched, anger and guilt flaring hot within him. If Lucian had discovered the truth, there was no telling what he’d do to her.

Or what he had already done.

Theo’s jaw tightened. Lucian had tortured Isabell before, using her as a tool to break him. What would he do now that she had betrayed him? Theo clung to the desperate hope that she was still alive, still holding on. But a darker part of him—the part that had known real, unrelenting darkness—hoped that she was dead.

He reached Elena’s apartment building. Her unit was on the third floor, and the stairwell felt more claustrophobic than usual as he climbed, his mind still churning over Isabell and the tangled mess that threatened to engulf him. Guilt gnawed at him, twisting in his gut, and it was all he could do to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

The key Elena had given him fit smoothly into the lock. The door clicked open with ease, and he slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. The familiar scent of her space—lavender and something warm, comforting—enveloped him. For a brief moment, the ache in his chest dulled, replaced by the odd sense of solace her presence brought him.

As Theo moved deeper into the apartment, his thoughts still lingering on the recent events with Elena, a creeping sense of unease began to stir. His distracted mind, dulled by preoccupation, sharpened just in time to catch it: a faint shift in the air, something off, sending a prickling awareness down his spine.

Someone else was here.

Before he could react, a cold blade pressed against his throat, the edge biting into his skin just enough to make him freeze. The slight burn told him all he needed to know—silver.

"Where is Elena?" a low, dangerous voice growled from behind.

Theo’s muscles tensed, instincts urging him to break free, but the silver’s sting held him still. He swallowed hard, keeping his composure despite the irritation prickling at his skin.

“And why the hell should I tell you?” His voice was tight, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The blade pressed harder, increasing the discomfort. "Don’t test me, vampire," the voice warned, sharp and edged with exhaustion. "I’m severely sleep-deprived and prone to making rash decisions."

Theo’s eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of the man’s hand. Between the thumb and forefinger, a small tattoo caught his eye—fangs in front of black wings. Recognition flared in Theo’s mind. The Watchers.

“I’ll say,” Theo muttered, his lips curling into a dry smirk, despite the tension.

Before the stranger could react, Theo twisted sharply, wrenching himself free from the burning blade. Ignoring the sting of the silver, he drove his elbow hard into the man’s side, forcing him to stumble back just long enough for Theo to break away. They circled each other now, both bristling with hostility, the air thick with the crackling promise of violence.

The man kept his knife raised, his green eyes narrowed as they sized each other up. “Where is my sister?” the stranger demanded, his voice harsh, but there was a flicker of desperation beneath the anger.

Theo’s mind froze for a split second as the pieces clicked into place. Sister. The Watchers. Elena.

Of course.

Theo took a slow step back, raising his hands in a gesture of cautious peace. “You’re David.” he said, his voice calm but guarded.

David’s eyes narrowed further. “How do you know my name?”

Theo exhaled slowly, trying to defuse the situation. “Because I’m a friend. I’m keeping your sister safe. We’re on the same side.”

David’s grip on the knife tightened, his gaze flicking between Theo’s face and his hands. “A vampire keeping her safe? That’s rich.”

Theo met his gaze steadily. “We need to talk. But I swear, I’m not your enemy. I’m here to protect her, not hurt her.”

For a long, tense moment, neither of them moved. The room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of David’s ragged breathing. Finally, David lowered the knife just slightly, his eyes still sharp with suspicion.

"Start talking then, vampire," he said, his voice rough and edged with impatience.