Chapter 10: The mark and the mansion

The second I stepped inside I heard a voice, urgent and low.

"I don't know where she was," Aunt Elena was saying, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. "But I've been up all night. No, I don't think she was with Sophia. I already called her." A pause. A sharp sigh. "I was about to—"She turned.

Her eyes landed on me.She froze.

For a single, stretched-out moment, neither of us moved. Then, without another word, she ended the call, tossed her phone onto the couch, and stormed toward me, her expression unreadable.

"Kaira."

Her voice was tight—half relief, half something else. The second she reached me, her hands gripped my arms, firm, searching. Her eyes scanned me like she expected to find bruises, cuts, answers.

"Where were you?" she demanded. "Are you okay? Why didn't you come home?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to hold her gaze,Lying had never come easily to me. But tonight?

It was the only option.

"I—" I let out a breath, shaking my head. "I stayed at Julian's." The words felt thick on my tongue, unnatural. "I should have called, I know. But everything happened so fast, and I wasn't thinking." I forced a small, sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Aunt Elena. I didn't mean to worry you."

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples.

"I was on the line with the police, Kaira."

My stomach twisted.

"I tried calling Julian, but his phone wasn't going through," she continued. Her voice was laced with frustration, but underneath it, I could hear the fear—a quiet, lingering terror that hadn't faded even though I was standing right in front of her. "I thought something happened to you."

Something had happened to me.

But I couldn't tell her that.

"I know," I murmured. "I should have called. I promise I'll be more careful next time."

She studied me for a long moment, her dark eyes searching mine, like she could sense the lie beneath my words. My pulse throbbed in my throat. Then, finally, she sighed, shaking her head.

"It's okay," she said, though I could tell it really wasn't. "Just—call Sophia, alright? She's been freaking out."

"I will," I promised.

Aunt Elena checked her watch, muttering something under her breath. "I have to get to work." She gestured toward the kitchen. "There's food in the fridge. Heat it up if you're hungry."

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before grabbing her bag. "Get some rest, okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

"And remember you have work, I called Mr Rossi to check in with them if you were there, you should probably call him too or show up at work, he seemed kinda worried".

I had totally forgotten about, Mr Rossi was going to ring my ear off for coming in late again.

I sighed. "I'll do just that, I just need to take my bath first".

She hesitated. One last lingering look—like she wanted to say something else. But she didn't. She just turned and walked out, the front door clicking shut behind her.

Silence.

I let out a slow, measured breath, my shoulders sagging, everything was fine.

She didn't know, She didn't know about the crash. The attack. The mark.

And I was going to keep it that way.

For now.

I pushed away from the door, heading toward the kitchen. My stomach twisted with hunger, but it wasn't the kind of hunger food could fix. It was deeper, heavier—a gnawing, restless thing coiling low in my chest. Still, I went through the motions. Opened the fridge. Pulled out the plate Aunt Elena had left for me—butter chicken and rice—and put it in the microwave. The hum of the machine filled the kitchen, soft and distant. I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, staring at nothing.

I hadn't processed any of it. Not really.

The accident.

The masked figures.

The way the power had surged out of me, I shut my eyes, pressing my palms against the cold granite.

That moment. That exact moment—something had snapped inside me. I had felt it coming. My blood had turned electric, my skin had burned with something hot and raw and impossible.

And then—

The energy had exploded outward, I could still feel it, even now, humming beneath my skin like a whisper.

And Vladimir— He knew.

He wasn't surprised.

He had shown up at the exact right moment, like he had been waiting. The microwave beeped, making me jolt. I grabbed my plate, sat at the table, and picked up my fork, but my appetite was gone. I pushed the rice around absently, barely tasting it as I lifted a bite to my lips.

I stared down at my wrist. The mark was still there.

A brilliant golden insignia, etched into my skin like a brand, I touched it carefully. It was smooth. Cool. Like it had always been a part of me.

Had it been? Had this thing inside me always been there, waiting to be woken up? A cold shiver ran down my spine. What if it wasn't an accident? What if the masked figures knew?What if Vladimir knew? I thought back to the party. To the way his eyes had lingered on me. To the way he had spoken to me, like he recognized something in me that I didn't.

Had he known all along? I set my fork down, swallowing hard.

I needed answers. I needed to know what I was and what ever this was and Vladimir was my bet guess to getting those answers. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Then I remembered—Sophia.

I reached into my pocket for my phone, but—

Nothing.

My heart skipped.

I checked my jacket. My jeans. The counter.

Still nothing. I frowned. Where—? Then it hit me.

The mansion. I must have left it there.

I pushed back from the table, my pulse quickening.

I had two choices. Let it go. Forget the phone. Forget the mansion. Forget the things that didn't make sense. Pretend none of this happened.

Or—

Go back.

Go back to the mansion. Get my phone. Get answers.

I exhaled.

Decision made.

I was going back.

I forced myself to eat quickly, shoveling down the last few bites of butter chicken and rice even though i barely tasted it. My mind was racing, every nerve in my body on edge. My phone was still at the mansion, that wasn't just an inconvenience. It was a problem.I needed it back and I needed answers.my chair scraped against the tile as I pushed it back, the sound too loud in the quiet kitchen. I dumped my plate in the sink without bothering to rinse it, already moving toward the bathroom.

I had to be quick. My bare feet slapped against the cool tile as I turned on the shower, stepping under the hot spray the second the water was warm enough. My muscles tensed at first, then loosened slightly under the steady stream. I closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm my racing thoughts but there was no calming them.

I sucked in a breath and grabbed the shampoo, scrubbing through my hair as quickly as i could. There was no time to waste. I rinsed the suds from my hair and turned off the water, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around myself .As i stepped out onto the bathroom mat, i caught my reflection in the fogged-up mirror.

I barely recognized herself. My eyes were a little too wide, my skin pale, my damp hair clinging to my shoulders. I looked like someone who had seen something they weren't supposed to see.

Maybe i had.

I swallowed hard and turned away. There wasn't time for this. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, i grabbed a light hoodie, zipping it halfway. It wasn't particularly cold outside, but i needed something—anything—to make me feel more grounded.

Because right now, i felt anything but that. I ran a brush through my hair, tugging it into a messy ponytail before snatching up my car keys from the nightstand.

Then, without another thought, I was out the door.

The moment I slid into the driver's seat, I hesitated. For just a second, my hands trembled against the steering wheel, I was actually doing this, going back to that mansion. I let out a breath and turned the key.

The engine rumbled to life.

I pulled onto the road, my fingers gripping the wheel a little too tight as I drove through the quiet streets. The city lights blurred past me but i barely noticed them. My thoughts were back at the mansion.

At Vladimir and at whatever the hell was happening to me. Every instinct I had told me this was stupid. Going back was stupid.

But i wasn't just going back for the phone anymore. I was going back because there was something there—something I needed to understand.

And i wouldn't leave until I had answers, even if i had to pry them out of Vladimir himself.

<<<<<>>>>

The wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, tall and imposing, just as they had the first time I had been here. But this time, i wasn't being invited in.

I was choosing to come back. I eased up to the entrance, my foot hovering over the brake as i debated my next move. The last time I was here, I and Julian had been practically being unconscious. Now? Would they even let me in?

Or would I have to force my way through?