Half an hour later, I stood in the shower, scrubbing every inch of my body. His scent had to be removed, I thought, rubbing the soap over my skin furiously. I might not be able to leave the castle, but I would never make the same mistake again. I would never give Anthony a reason to turn me into a vampire. 

When my emotions finally settled and my thoughts cleared, I decided to go see Lumiere. I still needed to sort out the issue with the missing crates. 

"I need your help," I sighed as I stepped into Lumiere's study. 

"How many times do I have to say this, Bel? I'm not getting involved in your little love triangle," he muttered. I groaned in frustration and tossed a pile of lists onto his desk. "All these bottles are missing."

He raised an eyebrow and began leafing through the papers. "Are you sure?"

I threw myself into an armchair, propped my feet up on his small white coffee table, and closed my eyes. "I've inventoried every damn warehouse." 

"All of them?" he asked, surprised. 

"Not B." 

He chuckled dryly. "Why not?" 

I didn't answer. I couldn't care less what he thought. I wanted to eat, shower three more times, and sleep, but most of all, I wanted to run back and get Clock out of that damned cell. It took all my willpower not to mention him to Lu. No one could suspect that I had seen him. 

"Go get some sleep," Lu muttered. "You've done a good job. You'll probably be rewarded. 

"Great," I grumbled sarcastically. 

Lu glanced at me thoughtfully but didn't say anything, and I didn't have the energy to explain. I was so exhausted that before I could drag myself out of the chair, I had fallen asleep  and didn't even notice when he left the room. 

A few hours later, I jolted awake, my heart pounding. Disoriented, I sat up, struggling to figure out where I was. The room was empty. Slowly, I got to my feet, still groggy, and shuffled back to my own room. Once there, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower. My stomach growled, but I had no intention of letting our esteemed prince pick up on something I wasn't ready to admit. Was I being paranoid? Probably. Someone should write a damn handbook on how vampires work, I thought with a sigh as the warm water streamed over my aching body. I was almost sure they could read my mind sometimes, though not always. What they could do was sense my emotions, my scent, and my moods far better than any human ever could. That much, I knew. Still, it was time to take control of the narrative, I decided. Twenty minutes later—after an impromptu power nap leaning against the shower wall—I threw on my old, worn jeans and a plain white T-shirt, tying my damp hair into a messy bun. Feeling marginally human again, I ventured out, beginning the long walk to the kitchen. The hallways were deserted, and the clock on the wall read 5:30 AM. Fourteen hours of work, three hours of sleep, and no food. No wonder I felt like a walking corpse. When I reached the kitchen, it too was empty. I rummaged around and managed to scavenge some bread, ham, cheese, and cucumber. While assembling the world's simplest sandwich, I set a large pot of coffee to brew.

"Need any help?" The light voice startled me so much that I dropped the butter knife on the floor. When I bent down to pick it up, I almost collided with a young boy. 

"Sorry." 

"It's fine," he said with a smile, handing me a new one. He hesitated when he saw I'd already made my own food. "I was about to start breakfast." 

"I couldn't wait," I replied shortly. 

"That's okay. I won't get in your way." I took a big bite of my sandwich and poured myself a cup of coffee. 

"It's fine. I'm done." I eyed the boy for a moment. He couldn't be more than fourteen. "What's your name?" 

Before he had a chance to answer the door slammed open, and the woman who usually served us stormed in. "Chip! Why isn't breakfast ready? They're already at the table!" 

"Sorry, Mom, I—" 

"It's my fault," I interrupted, hoping she wouldn't scold him too harshly. 

"Prince Anthony wants you to join him," she muttered without looking at me, cracking eggs into a large pan instead. 

I sighed, took another bite of my sandwich, lifted my mug in the other hand, and trudged wearily out the door to the dining hall. Anthony sat at the head of the table, with Lumiere and Clock on either side of him. I did my best not to stare as I noticed Anthony's fingers gently stroking Clocksworth's wrist, where the chains had burned his skin. It looked almost... loving. It made my blood boil. Slowly, I walked to the seat closest to Lumiere and set my mug down on the table with a thud. I felt their eyes on me but kept chewing on my baguette. 

"So nice of you to join us," Anthony said dryly. I met his gaze indifferently as I took another bite. Anything to irritate him—and it seemed to work. "Go change. We have much to do." 

"I wasn't planning on working today." 

I heard Lumiere gasp, but I ignored it. Instead, I picked up my cup and took a few long sips. A sudden movement sent the cup flying from my hand, smashing against the wall. In an instant, I was pressed face-first against the table, Anthony's face inches from mine. I watched in fascination as his fangs extended threateningly. Go on, I thought. Kill me. I stared defiantly into his eyes.

"You disrespectful little pest," he hissed. "Defiant and insolent like a child."

I smiled at him and licked my lower lip. "You'd better punish me then." 

He fixed me with a long, piercing stare before abruptly letting go of my neck and straightening his blazer. "Clocksworth, take Belmont and track down the traitor. Teach the child a lesson while you're at it."

Then he left, slamming the door behind him. Clock didn't let me finish eating before he dragged me out to the garage. Unlike with Anthony, I followed every single one of his orders. 

"You've got a serious death wish," he sighed, sitting next to me in the backseat of the car. 

"I'm not letting him scare me anymore," I replied with so much defiance his eyebrows shot up as he studied me for a long moment. 

"I've known him for over a hundred years, and I never question his orders. Do you know why? Because I'm not a damn idiot!" he snapped. 

"I know what I'm doing." 

"Good, because I have no idea what the hell you're up to." He sighed heavily, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. His beard was longer now, his hair hung messily in his face, and he looked so damn good in that black shirt. My eyes trailed to his arms resting on his thighs, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Gently, I traced my finger over his left wrist, the same spot Anthony had touched just minutes ago. To my surprise, there wasn't a single trace of the chains or any hint of wounds. 

"Blood," he explained softly. I looked at him questioningly. "Anthony's blood made me what I am, and it can also heal me." 

I laughed aloud. "So, first, he tortures you, and then you drink his blood to feel better so he can keep going?" 

"It was my idea," he insisted. 

"Why?" 

He was silent for a moment before answering. "I needed a break, and he needed my help." 

"Your help? Babysitting me?" 

Clock smirked. "Not everything's about you, sweetheart." 

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "Worst nickname yet." 

"You complain louder than the door to the torture room." 

I sighed dramatically, and he laughed until I playfully punched his shoulder. "What actually happened?" 

Clock shrugged. "He helped me climb out of a bottomless pit, then reminded me he's the prince and that I need to follow orders." He laughed again and gave me a flirty wink. "And that I should be respectful and well-behaved." 

"Good luck with that." 

"Hey! Fifty-eight percent of this is your fault." 

I shrugged with a sly grin. "But you and I both know he can't survive without you." 

"I know. He knows it too. But everything's a game, Bel, one big fucking power play. And now someone's started a war against us." 

We sat in silence for a while, watching the world blur past outside the car windows—a human world, oblivious to the monsters living among them. "I thought he was going to snap your neck at the breakfast table," Clock whispered eventually. 

"I was hoping he would." 

He shook his head slowly, and then I felt his hand take mine. Neither of us spoke, and he kept staring out the window. The car turned into an industrial area, and Clock pulled out a small submachine gun, loading it with silver bullets. 

"Do you still want to die?" he asked, glancing at me as he posed the question. 

"No." 

"Good." Then he handed me a pistol and a stack of magazines. "Ever used a gun before?" 

"Yes." 

He nodded briefly. "You'll cover me." 

I tucked the silver-filled magazines into my belt and weighed the pistol in my hand. Adrenaline coursed through me, and a smile spread across my face. This was what I'd wanted to do from the start—not paperwork and inventory cleanup. 

Clock turned to look at me. "Ready?" 

I nodded sharply, but before he could leave the car, I found the courage to stop him. He turned back to me, confused, and I grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him close. Before he could react, I pressed my lips hungrily against his. When the kiss broke, I was met with a furrowed brow and sorrowful eyes. He quickly turned toward the door. "Don't die, okay?"

Then he stepped out of the car, and all hell broke loose.