THE RESISTANCE

The cold night air clung to Selene like a shroud as she stumbled forward, every movement sending waves of agony rippling through her battered body.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps, the metallic taste of blood thick on her tongue.

The dimly lit entrance of the resistance's hideout loomed ahead; a place she had once called home.

Her fingers brushed against the rough, rusted metal of the doorframe as she stepped inside.

The air within was thick with the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and damp earth.

Lanterns flickered against the cavernous walls, casting long, trembling shadows.

Every conversation died the moment she crossed the threshold.

The hum of whispered words and clinking weapons ceased, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.

Dozens of eyes turned to her, wide with disbelief, then quickly narrowing with something far more dangerous; rage.

The weight of their stares pressed against her, suffocating in its intensity.

Then,

The sharp rasp of steel being unsheathed sliced through the silence.

Weapons were drawn.

Selene's stomach twisted, though she wasn't sure if it was from fear or the gnawing hunger clawing at her insides.

Her gaze swept over the crowd until it landed on a familiar face.

Alina.

Her childhood friend. Her sister in arms. The one who had once sworn to fight at her side until the bitter end.

Alina stepped forward, her expression carved from stone, but her eyes; God, her eyes, held something even more cutting than the blade she now gripped.

"You shouldn't have come here, Selene."

The words were spoken softly, but they carried the weight of a death sentence.

Selene swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. "I had nowhere else to go."

Alina's lips pressed into a thin line.

The air between them crackled with unspoken words, with pain, with betrayal.

A scoff rang out from somewhere in the crowd. "Then you should've died with those that did, you're not one of us... not anymore."

The words were a blade to the gut.

Selene barely had time to react before the first blow landed.

A fist cracked against her jaw, snapping her head to the side.

The force of it sent her staggering, her back colliding with the damp stone wall.

Pain flared through her skull, white-hot and searing.

She barely had time to catch her breath before a boot slammed into her ribs. Something crunched.

A fresh wave of agony lanced through her, stealing the air from her lungs.

She didn't fight back.

Even as fists rained down on her, as boots ground her into the dirt, she didn't lift a hand in defense.

She could've.

She could've torn through them like paper, could've ended this in a heartbeat.

But she didn't.

Because she understood.

She understood their rage, their grief, their need to make her suffer for surviving when so many of them hadn't.

A knee drove into her gut, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping.

Her fingers dug into the dirt, clawing for purchase.

A boot landed against her ribs again, flipping her onto her back.

Above her, faces blurred in the dim light, twisted in anger and disgust.

Someone dropped onto her, straddling her torso.

A gleam of silver flashed in the flickering light.

The knife plunged into her stomach and the handler of the weapon dragged it down, tearing her stomach open.

Agony exploded through her, white-hot and raw. A strangled gasp tore from her lips as blood spilled over her hands, pooling on the dirt beneath her.

Her vision swam. The world tilted, she would have dropped down the edge if it were possible.

Then...

A voice melancholic like death itself rang out.

"That's enough."

The temperature in the room plummeted, everyone immediately shivered involuntarily.

The lanterns flickered violently, their flames shrinking, shivering, before nearly snuffing out.

Shadows slithered across the floor, stretching unnaturally, curling around boots, coiling up legs like living serpents.

Lucian Valcrest stepped forward, out if the darkness in the corner, his silver eyes burning with quiet, lethal fury.

They lunged forward at him, his response was a lazy swatting motion with his hand; like they were pestering flies.

The resistance barely had time to react before the darkness moved.

One by one, they were wrenched back, their bodies lifted off the ground and slammed into the stone walls.

The one still clutching the bloody dagger was yanked upward, their feet dangling in the air as black tendrils wrapped around their throat, squeezing.

Lucian strolled past them, his movements fluid, unhurried, as if they were nothing more than the grains of sand beneath his feet.

He kneeled beside Selene, his gaze sweeping over her battered form, taking in the blood soaking her clothes.

For the first time, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Not amusement. Not cold detachment.

Rage.

He exhaled slowly, the only sign of the fury simmering beneath his icy exterior.

Then, without turning his head, he spoke.

"I should kill you all for this."

His words were drawled out in a deceptively soft, and almost tired voice.

But the room itself seemed to shudder in response.

The resistance members struggled against the shadows holding them in place, their breaths coming in panicked gasps.

Lucian didn't follow through with what he actually had planned out for them.

Instead, with a mere flick of his wrist, the tendrils of darkness loosened, letting them collapse to the ground in heaps of coughing, trembling bodies.

He shifted his focus back to Selene.

With ease, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her as if she weighed nothing.

She grabbed the lapel of his coat weakly, barely conscious when she whispered, "Don't... hurt them."

Lucian exhaled sharply, the faintest trace of exasperation in his tone. "You're too soft, little rebel."

Then, in a swirl of darkness, they disappeared into the night.

Selene barely registered the shift.

One moment, she was drowning in pain, her body a broken thing in Lucian's arms, the taste of blood thick on her tongue. The next,

The world folded in on itself.

Darkness swallowed her whole, a suffocating nothingness that stretched and twisted, pulling at the edges of her fraying consciousness.

It wasn't like passing through shadow. It was colder, deeper, ancient.

And then,

Light.

A sudden rush of warmth against her frozen skin.

The scent of old parchment and burning candles. The heavy weight of velvet drapes blocking the outside world.

Lucian's presence remained constant, solid, the only tether anchoring her to reality.

She felt the shift when her back met the mattress.

A sharp hiss escaped her lips, pain flaring anew as the movement jostled her wounds.

"Get the doctor," Lucian's voice was quiet, but it slithered through the air like a blade against stone.

The room tensed.

She forced her eyes open, vision swimming.

The candlelight flickered against tall bookshelves, the vast chamber adorned in rich, muted tones; luxury in every detail. A massive four-poster bed beneath her.

Shadows clinging to the corners.

Lucian stood over her, his gaze unreadable, silver eyes glinting like shattered ice.

Movement.

The maids; three of them, hovered by the door, frozen in place. Their expressions wavered between terror and uncertainty, their hands trembling at their sides.

One swallowed hard before nodding and scurrying away, skirts rustling against the polished floor. The others hesitated, awaiting further instruction.

Lucian's gaze didn't leave Selene. "Warm water. Clean cloths." A pause as he looked at her sizzling wound. Then his voice toned down, softer, deadlier "Now."

They bolted.

Selene let out a weak breath, head lolling to the side.

Everything hurt.

Her ribs screamed with every inhale, her skin burned where the dagger had kissed it.

The deep gash in her stomach throbbed, a sickening warmth spreading beneath her torn shirt.

She should be healing. Faster.

But she wasn't.

Something was wrong.

The thought barely formed before the door burst open again. The doctor; a thin, sharp-faced man in dark robes, rushed inside, his hands already reaching for his instruments.

"My lord," he murmured, bowing briefly before kneeling beside the bed, his eyes scanning Selene's broken form. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. "This is-"

"Fix her," Lucian cut in, voice devoid of emotion.

The doctor swallowed. "Yes, my lord."

Cool hands pressed against her skin. Cloth ripped. The scent of antiseptic filled the air.

Selene gritted her teeth as pain flared with every touch, but she refused to make a sound.

Lucian didn't move.

He stood at the edge of the bed, arms folded, his expression carved from stone.

Watching.

Waiting.

And beneath the icy detachment, something else simmered.

Something dark.

The doctor worked quickly, his hands steady despite the tension hanging in the air.

He peeled away Selene's tattered, blood-soaked chemise, revealing the full extent of the damage.

Bruises painted her skin in ugly shades of violet and black, spreading across her ribs, her abdomen. The silver-inflicted wound in her stomach was still raw, still burning.

The skin around it bubbled faintly, refusing to heal.

A frown deepened the lines on the doctor's face. "Silver poisoning," he murmured.

Lucian's fingers twitched. "Remove it."

The doctor dipped his head in a quick nod. He pulled out a pair of fine-tipped forceps and a vial of dark liquid. "This will hurt."

Selene barely had the strength to scoff. "Already does."

Lucian's gaze flickered to her at that, but he said nothing.

The moment the doctor pressed the forceps into the wound, pain exploded through her.

It wasn't just physical; it was searing, a fire burrowing through her veins, coiling around her very bones, the room went dark in her eyes and for several seconds she could see a million dazzling gold stars.

Her back arched. A strangled sound tore from her throat.

Lucian moved before he realized it.

One second, he was a silent observer; the next, his gloved hand was wrapped around her wrist, pinning her down as she writhed.

Not forcefully. Just enough to keep her grounded.

"I'm here" He whispered, not thinking much of it as his thumb massaged where he'd feel her pulse, if she actually had one.

Selene barely registered it, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

The doctor worked fast, extracting the last sliver of silver and dousing the wound with the thick, pungent liquid.

The burning lessened; slightly.And the wound stopped sizzling.

Selene slumped back against the sheets, her body trembling from exhaustion.

Sweat clung to her brow, mingling with the remnants of dried blood.

Lucian let go of her wrist slowly, his gaze lingering on the deep bruises forming beneath her skin.

"Your body will heal normally now," the doctor said, cleaning his tools. "But she needs blood."

Lucian exhaled sharply. A flicker of something dangerous passed through his expression.

The maids, who had been standing near the doorway, stiffened. They knew what was coming.

Selene did too.

"No," she croaked, forcing herself to meet Lucian's gaze. "Not yet."

Lucian tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes unreadable. "You're weak."

"I'll manage."

For a long moment, he simply stared at her. Then,

"You're stubborn."

Selene tried to smirk. It barely formed. "Really?" She answered, using the last of her strength to raise an eyebrow snarkily.

Lucian turned away, dismissing the doctor with a flick of his fingers. P

The man didn't need to be told twice. He gathered his supplies quickly and left the room, the maids following in his wake.

Now, it was just the two of them.

Lucian exhaled, rolling his shoulders, tension still coiled in his frame. His gaze drifted over her once more, assessing. Calculating.

"You should have fought back," he said finally.

Selene let out a weak breath. "They were my people."

"They tried to kill you, they knew you were coming, they had it planned out."

"They thought I was a monster."

Lucian scoffed. "And what do you think you are, dear?"

Selene didn't answer.

She didn't know.