Chapter 2

A sleek, jet-black luxury car, its lines smooth and predatory like a panther, came to a silent stop at the hospital entrance. It stood starkly apart from the chaotic surroundings. The lawyer opened the car door for me. Inside, it was another world entirely—the cold scent of leather seats and an atmosphere that shut out all the noise from the outside. The car didn’t head toward the city as I had expected. Instead, it began climbing a winding mountain road. Higher and higher it went, until it finally stopped in front of a towering structure perched on the edge of a cliff. The building loomed like a medieval fortress—The Old Keep. Massive iron gates creaked open slowly, revealing a courtyard that stretched into shadow, like the dark throat of a beast. I was led into the main keep. The interior was vast, its grandeur oppressive. Cold stone walls, heavy tapestries, and a massive fireplace burning thick logs all combined to create an atmosphere that was ancient, austere, and suffocating. The weight of it pressed down on me, leaving me breathless. I was taken to a lavish yet icy guest room. There was no welcome, no explanation—only a maid who silently delivered an exquisite meal and said, “The master will return tonight.” As night fell, the silence in The Old Keep became unnerving. The wind howled outside the windows, a lonely, haunting sound. I curled up on the couch, my heart heavy with unease and fear. What kind of man was Caleb, the one they had brought me here for? I was drifting into an uneasy sleep when the door burst open with a loud crash. A tall figure stormed in, bringing a gust of icy air with him. It was him—Caleb. Even in the dim light, his sharp, chiseled features were striking to the point of being almost cruel. But something about him was off. His deep-set eyes glowed an unnatural crimson, his breathing was ragged, and a dangerous, feral energy radiated from him. He looked like a beast cornered, ready to lash out. In a few long strides, he was in front of me, his presence overwhelming, freezing me in place. “Leah,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, laced with pain and desperation. “Come here. I need you.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command. I instinctively stepped back, fear gripping me. “W-what are you going to do?” He seemed enraged by my hesitation, or perhaps his own torment had eroded his patience. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a force that felt like it might shatter my bones. “Ah!” I cried out in pain. He ignored me. His other hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. Then, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against mine. In an instant, a storm of chaotic energy surged toward me, crashing into my mind. It was violent, raw, and overwhelming, like a tempest threatening to tear me apart. My head throbbed with unbearable pain, and I felt like a fragile boat caught in a hurricane, moments from being destroyed. But then, something within me stirred. Deep inside, a calm, soothing energy began to flow—a cool, gentle stream that pushed back against the storm, trying to quell its fury. Caleb let out a sound, almost like a sigh of relief. The tension in his face eased slightly, and the crushing grip on my wrist loosened just a fraction. I didn’t know how long it lasted. Minutes? Hours? Time seemed to blur. Slowly, the crimson glow faded from his eyes, and his breathing steadied. He released me, stepping back as though nothing had happened. He adjusted his slightly disheveled collar, his icy demeanor returning. It was as if he had simply used a tool and set it aside. “Remember your place,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Without my permission, you are not to approach me. Except…” He paused, his gaze sweeping over my pale, frightened face. “…when I need you. Like just now.” With that, he turned and left, not sparing me another glance. I collapsed onto the floor, trembling. My wrist bore the red marks of his grip, and my forehead still tingled with the cold touch of his skin. The air was heavy with his scent—a mix of cedarwood and something wild, dangerous. I understood now. This was the “companion obligation” mentioned in the contract. This was the “special condition” I was meant to soothe—a terrifying, uncontrollable bloodline frenzy. And I… I was nothing more than a cure, a tool to calm the storm inside him. A wave of humiliation and fear washed over me, suffocating in its intensity. Was this what the next three years of my life would be? A life without dignity, at the mercy of his violent, unpredictable needs?