Kieran's POV
I was going to die fighting assassins beside the man I'd tortured.
Five masked killers circled us in the hallway. Caius stood in front of me, sword raised despite his shaking hands. I had no weapon. No combat skills—the System had sealed all of Lysander's villain powers. I was completely useless.
"Stay behind me," Caius ordered, his voice steady even though I could see him trembling.
The assassins attacked.
Caius met them with brutal efficiency that shocked me. His sword flashed, blocking strikes, countering attacks. But I could see the cost—every movement made him flinch like he was fighting through old pain. Three years of nightmares and he was still defending me.
The man I'd broken was protecting me.
An assassin slipped past Caius's guard, dagger aimed at my throat. I stumbled backward but there was nowhere to go. This was it. I was dead.
Caius spun impossibly fast and threw himself between us. The dagger meant for me sank into his shoulder instead.
"No!" I screamed.
Caius roared in pain but didn't stop fighting. He drove his sword through the assassin's chest, then ripped the dagger from his own shoulder. Blood poured down his arm but he kept his weapon up, kept himself between me and the remaining four killers.
"Why?" I gasped. "Why protect me?"
"Because you're mine now," he growled, blocking another strike. "And nobody touches what's mine."
His? When had I become his?
More guards arrived, swarming the assassins. The fight turned into chaos—swords clashing, people screaming, blood splashing across marble floors.
"Come on!" Caius grabbed my wrist with his good hand and pulled me away from the fighting, running despite his wounded shoulder.
We burst into an empty storage room. He slammed the door shut and locked it, then slumped against the wall, breathing hard. Blood soaked his entire left side.
"You're hurt!" I rushed to him. "Let me see—"
"Don't touch me." He jerked away, but his eyes held pain, not hatred. "I don't—I can't—"
"You're bleeding everywhere!" My hands hovered over his shoulder, useless. "We need to get you to a healer!"
"In a minute." He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to stop the flow. "First, I need answers. Why did you really come to my apartment? What's your game?"
"No game. I told you—I wanted to apologize."
"People don't just transform overnight." His green eyes searched my face, suspicious but also desperate for something. "What happened to you? What made you suddenly grow a conscience?"
I couldn't tell him the truth—that I'd died and transmigrated into his torturer's body. He'd think I was insane.
"I don't know," I said quietly. "I woke up one day and saw myself clearly for the first time. All the pain I'd caused, all the lives I'd destroyed. And I couldn't be that person anymore. I just—couldn't."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." I met his eyes. "I know you don't believe me. But I am different. The old Lysander is gone. I'm trying to be someone better."
He stared at me for a long moment. "Prove it."
"How?"
"You offered yourself to me earlier. As reparation." His voice dropped lower, dangerous. "Did you mean it?"
The System chimed: [CRITICAL CHOICE: Accept or decline Sir Caius's claim. WARNING: Acceptance means surrendering control. He may hurt you. Use you. Break you the way he was broken. But refusal will lose all progress. Choose carefully.]
I looked at Caius—really looked at him. Saw the pain etched into every line of his face. The way his hands shook even now. The hollow look in his eyes that screamed he was barely holding himself together.
Lysander had done that. Had taken a strong soldier and shattered him into pieces.
I couldn't undo that damage. But maybe I could help him put the pieces back together.
"I meant it," I said firmly. "I'm yours. Whatever you need to heal, I'll give it."
"You don't know what you're saying." He pushed off the wall and walked toward me slowly, predator-like despite his wound. "You don't know what I might want from you."
"Then tell me." I held my ground even though fear twisted in my gut. "What do you want?"
He stopped inches away, close enough that I could feel heat radiating from his body. His good hand came up and traced along my jaw—gentle at first, then tightening until his fingers dug into my skin.
"I want control back," he said quietly. "For six months I was helpless. You decided when I ate, when I slept, when I screamed. Now I want to decide for you. I want you helpless the way I was helpless."
My breath caught. "Okay."
"Okay?" He looked shocked. "Just like that?"
"You deserve it. You deserve to have power over me after I took yours away." My voice steadied. "So yes. Just like that. I'm yours to command."
Something broke in his expression—pain and relief and dark hunger all mixed together. "You're insane."
"Probably." I tried to smile. "But I mean it. Whatever you need."
His hand slid from my jaw to my throat, fingers wrapping around my neck in a mirror of what Theron had done. But where Theron had been testing me, Caius was claiming me.
"Mine," he whispered, and it sounded like a vow. "You're mine now. No taking it back."
"I won't take it back."
The System blazed: [QUEST COMPLETE: +20% Devotion. Current status - Sir Caius Wrenhart: 20% Devotion, 80% Pain/Confusion. WARNING: His attachment is forming through trauma bonding. Handle carefully.]
Trauma bonding. Great. I was helping him heal by letting him possess me the way I'd possessed him during torture.
This was so twisted. But if it helped him, I'd accept it.
"We should get you to a healer," I said softly. "Your shoulder—"
"Can wait." His thumb pressed against my pulse point. "First, I need to know—are there more assassins? Is Duke Harrington really behind this?"
"Yes. He wants me dead because I'm the only witness to his conspiracy with Lysander. The original Lysander, I mean." I stumbled over my words. "He paid Lysander to destroy Theron's family. Now he's eliminating loose ends."
"Then you're in danger."
"I've been in danger since the moment I woke up in this body," I said honestly.
His grip tightened slightly. "Not anymore. I told you—you're mine. Which means I protect you. Even from other assassins trying to kill you."
"Why?" The question burst out. "Why protect the man who tortured you?"
"Because—" He stopped, confusion flickering across his face. "I don't know. I should want you dead. I should've let those assassins have you. But when I saw that dagger aimed at your throat, all I could think was 'no, he's mine.' Like some twisted part of me has already claimed you."
The door exploded inward.
We spun around. Daelon stood in the doorway, crimson eyes blazing, covered in blood that clearly wasn't his. Behind him, I could see bodies of assassins scattered in the hallway.
"Found you," he said, his voice cold. "The attack's contained. Twenty assassins dead, fifteen captured. They all confessed—Duke Harrington sent them to kill Lysander and frame Prince Theron for incompetence." His eyes narrowed. "But before we deal with Harrington, we need to have a conversation about you."
He walked into the room, and I noticed he was holding something—a small black book bound in leather.
"What's that?" Caius asked, still keeping himself between me and Daelon.
"Dr. Voss's journal. We found it when we arrested him." Daelon's smile was sharp and dangerous. "It contains very interesting information. Including proof that Lysander didn't act alone in any of his crimes. He had a partner. Someone who planned everything with him, who helped him torture Caius, who held my sister down while Lysander stabbed her."
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"There's a name mentioned throughout the journal. Lysander's secret accomplice." Daelon opened the book and read: "'Met with L.C. again today. He's more ruthless than Lysander, if that's possible. Together they're unstoppable.'" He looked up, crimson eyes burning into mine. "Want to guess who L.C. is?"
I shook my head, genuinely confused. "I don't—"
"Lucian Corvith." Daelon's words fell like stones. "Lysander's twin brother. Who everyone thought died in a fire ten years ago. Except he didn't die. He's been alive this whole time, working in the shadows. And according to this journal—" His smile turned vicious. "—he's been in this palace for the last three days. Watching. Waiting. And he's coming for you tonight to finish what the assassins started."
The room spun. Lysander had a twin brother? An accomplice? Someone even worse than him?
"That's impossible," I whispered. "Lysander never mentioned—"
"Lysander kept many secrets," Daelon interrupted. "And his twin is the deadliest one. Lucian is everything Lysander was, but smarter. More patient. More dangerous." He stepped closer. "He's also obsessed with his brother. The journal says if anyone hurt Lysander, Lucian would make them suffer for years before killing them."
Oh god.
"So you're telling me," Caius said slowly, "that there's someone even worse than Lysander, who's been hiding in the palace, and he's coming to kill everyone who's hurt his brother?"
"Exactly." Daelon's eyes never left mine. "Which means all four of us are targets. But especially you, Lysander. Because according to the last journal entry—" He flipped to the final page. "—Lucian knows you've changed. And he's convinced you've been possessed or replaced by an imposter. He's coming to 'save' his real brother by killing whoever's inhabiting his body."
The System erupted: [EMERGENCY QUEST: Survive Lucian Corvith. WARNING: He knows you're not the original Lysander. He will not negotiate. He will not hesitate. Survival probability: 8%.]
Eight percent.
And somewhere in this palace, a monster who made Lysander look tame was hunting me down.