ADRIAN’S P.O.V.
The mont Teresa and her little ones set foot on my estate, it was like soone had cracked open a window in a room that had been locked up for years. The air changed. Warr, lighter, and just a little too bright for soone like . I wasn’t used to this kind of... vibe. My world was all shadows, silence, and cold, and here they were—bringing noise, warmth, and a level of chaos I wasn’t sure I’d signed up for.
The twins were a force of nature. Their laughter bounced off the walls like a lody I didn’t realize I’d been missing. Not that I’d admit it, of course. The first ti they zood past in the hallway, giggling like a couple of tiny gremlins, I nearly dropped my glass. And Teresa? Sweet, skittish Teresa. She floated around the house like a butterfly that had wandered into a lion’s den—delicate, fluttery, and completely unaware of the emotional hurricane she’d stirred up.
Oh, I noticed the way she reacted whenever I walked into the room. Her heart would stutter, her eyes would go wide, and she’d clutch the twins like I was about to whisk them away to so dark lair. It was almost funny. Almost. For the first few days, I couldn’t decide if I should laugh or be offended. Was I that terrifying?
Apparently, the answer was yes and it was so clear now that she had seen feed that night even though she denied rembering anything.
She didn’t say it outright—she wasn’t the type—but her actions were loud enough. The way she avoided looking in the eye for more than two seconds, the stiff little nods, the way her voice would drop to a whisper when she said, "Yes, Adrian," as though I might implode if she spoke above a murmur. It was like watching soone tiptoe around a sleeping bear, except the bear in question had no intention of waking up and mauling anyone. If only she knew.
I could hear her heart thudding away every ti I got too close, and I wanted to say, Teresa, calm down. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. Honestly, you’d never see it coming. But that felt a bit too on the nose, so I didn’t. Instead, I let her keep pretending. Pretending I was just so eccentric rich guy with a flair for brooding and a suspicious lack of mirrors in my ho. She was terrible at it, but I let it slide. Playing along was easier than confronting the truth neither of us wanted to deal with. The bitter truth that she was afraid of . For her, I’d pretend I was normal forever.
The part that really got to ? She never fought back. Never argued when I gave her instructions, never raised her voice or said no. She just... agreed, unlike the Teresa before that night. She didn’t agree out of trust or respect. No, this wasn’t one of those heartfelt "trust your captor" situations. This was fear. Plain, raw fear. I saw it in the way her hands would tremble slightly, in the hesitant way she moved, as if every step might set off.
It stung so bad, I won’t lie. I’m not made of stone. Well, maybe I am mostly stone, but even rocks have cracks, don’t they? And if keeping her and the twins here ant swallowing that bitter pill of her fear, then fine. I’d take it. Because sowhere between the chaos and her whispered "Yes, Adrian," I realized sothing that unsettled more than anything else: I never ever wanted to see them leave this walls.
*******
I had beco... obsessed. Not the cute, starry-eyed kind of obsession you read about in love stories. No, this was the raw, all-consuming, absolutely-not-healthy kind. Teresa was mine to protect, mine to love, mine to keep safe from the nightmares lurking beyond the valley. At least, that’s what I told myself. Over and over. Like a mantra to justify every decision I made.
"She’s too pure for the world out there," I’d mutter under my breath, pacing my study like a madman. "Too kind, too fragile. They’d chew her up and spit her out." And the twins? Don’t even get started. The thought of those two bright, mischievous souls that had started calling Papa, anywhere near the darkness I knew existed made my blood boil. So, every day, I left the estate to patrol the borders, convinced I was the lone sentry standing between them and the apocalypse.
My hunts were efficient—rciless, even. Any werewolf foolish enough to sniff too close to the valley quickly learned that I wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy. The witch Elizabeth’s magic did its job, creating a barrier strong enough to keep most things out, but I wasn’t about to sit back and trust it completely. No spell was foolproof, and I wasn’t about to risk my world—my family—on the off chance sothing slipped through.
But soone had to stay behind while I played the role of lone ranger, and that soone was Harry. Good ol’ Harry, my right-hand man, my ever-loyal lieutenant. He acted like babysitting was so great injustice, like I’d handed him the most degrading job in existence. Every ti I left, he’d give that look, the one that said, Really? You’re making do this? But he’d do it anyway because, well, Harry was Harry. Dependable to a fault.
I trusted him with my life. Scratch that—I trusted him with sothing far more valuable: her. And the twins, of course, but mostly her. That turned out to be my first mistake.
It had been a long day—the kind of day where every second felt like a battle against the universe itself. The scent of blood and forest clung to like an unwanted souvenir, a grim reminder of the chaos I’d been neck-deep in for hours. All I wanted was to step into the sanctuary of my ho, breathe in the soft hum of Teresa’s laughter, and hear the twins giggling over sothing ridiculous. That was my peace, my reset button in this otherwise ssy existence.
But the mont I stepped through the door, that fragile peace shattered like a dropped wine glass.
There was Harry, my ever-reliable, perpetually grumpy lieutenant, standing in the middle of the foyer like so kind of reluctant hero. Only this ti, his usual air of disdain was replaced with sothing I’d never seen on him before: urgency. And not the "we ran out of blood bags" kind. No, this was full-blown sound-the-alarm, grab-your-pitchforks energy. He was rallying a search party, barking orders at my staff, who looked more confused than anything else.
My gut clenched. A thousand scenarios flashed through my mind, each one worse than the last. My voice ca out low and calm—the kind of calm that didn’t soothe but rather made everyone within earshot want to imdiately reevaluate their life choices. "Where is she?"
The room froze. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Even Harry paused, which was saying sothing. My calm wasn’t the kind that inspired confidence; it was the kind that made people instinctively take a step back, as if expecting the floor to give way beneath them.
Harry turned to , his face grim. And that’s when I knew. Whatever had happened—whatever he was about to say—was about to turn my world upside down.
"Adrian, I can explain—"
"Explain?" I interrupted, my tone still deceptively mild. "Explain to how the human woman I left in your care managed to disappear without a trace, Harry. Do."
Harry swallowed hard, but to his credit, he didn’t flinch. "She’s... cleverer than she looks."
"Clever?" I echoed, my voice rising. "Harry, she’s a human. You are a vampire. How did she outsmart you?"
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "She might have... uh... bribed one of the younger staff to look the other way."
I stared at him, incredulous. "Bribed? With what? Her winning personality?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Apparently, she promised them baked goods."
"Baked goods?" My voice cracked, and for a mont, the absurdity almost made laugh. Almost. "You let her escape because of muffins?"
"They were scones," Harry muttered, avoiding my gaze.
I snapped. Before I knew it, my hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing. The room trembled, shadows curling against the walls as my rage threatened to consu . "When did my vampires start eating human food huh? You had one job, Harry," I hissed, my fangs gleaming. "One job. and you let her escape. If you don’t find her—if you don’t bring her back to —I will rip you apart piece by piece and feed you to the wolves myself. Do you understand ?"
Harry’s eyes widened, and he nodded frantically. "Yes! I—I’ll find her! I swear!"
I dropped him unceremoniously to the floor and turned to the others gathered in the room. "Spread out. Search every inch of the valley and beyond. I want Teresa and the twins back here before sunrise. No excuses."
They scattered like leaves in a storm, too terrified to argue. I stood there for a mont, seething, my mind racing. Where could she have gone? Did she even understand the danger she was in?
The thought of her out there—vulnerable, unprotected—was unbearable. I clenched my fists, the sound of my bones cracking filling the silence. "Teresa," I muttered under my breath, "you have no idea what you’ve done."
And then I was gone, a blur of motion and fury, determined to find her before the night swallowed her whole.
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