"What the hell, Boss? What's going on?! We've been bombarded with messages all damn morning... Donny and Burban's team are dead. Jarv and his crew got toasted!" Roch's voice was almost a shout, his eyes wilder than ever.

We were sitting in the armory with him and Rami, waiting for someone I'd never met before—supposedly an expert in gas and explosives, better than anyone else. Clocksworth stood calmly, scrolling through a tablet, while Roch looked like he was about to lose it. 

"I know, Roch. Same goes for Luke's team." 

 "Damn it!" The bigger man growled, slamming his fist into the wall. 

 Clock slowly turned to him and shook his head. "You need to keep calm, Roch. Bel and I have a special mission to take care of. In the meantime, you're in charge here. Figure out what's going on with that damn gas." 

 "It must absorb through the skin," Rami murmured, his tone thoughtful. "Not just inhalation, I mean... our lungs don't really work. Or, well, they do, but not like—"

 "Rami!" The wiry little vampire flinched as Clock raised his voice. "That's enough. I don't need the details—just solve the problem." 

 I listened in silence, trying to make sense of the chaos. Finally, I thought of something useful to ask. "Do we have gas masks here?" 

 All eyes turned to me, and Clock gave a curt nod. "Not many, but there are enough for these idiots." 

 Roch muttered angrily under his breath as he rummaged through boxes of ammo and grenades. "Why is the kid coming with you?" 

 "Because the prince requested it," Clock replied shortly. Roch stepped closer, his face inches from mine, practically spitting as he spoke. "What's so damn special about you?" 

 Leaning back, I rested one arm lazily on my knee, shrugged, and licked my lips with a grin. "I do this thing with my mouth..."

 Roch burst out laughing and smacked my shoulder. "Well, that would explain it. You little shit." 

 I caught Clock's amused glance and chuckled. "I'll go find the masks then." 

 He gave me a small nod and called over his shoulder, "If you see some lost girl out there, tell her to hurry up." 

 "What?" 

 "Marianne," he said, as if that explained everything. "She knows a lot about chemistry and bombs." 

 Scratching my head, I shrugged. "Alright, I can go find her instead." 

 "Do what you want, but we need to be at the car in an hour."  

"It's all good," I replied with a smile. "I'll be on time."

With a relieved sigh, I left Roch's grumpy expression behind and started my search through the basement corridors. Room after room yielded nothing, and it soon became clear they'd accumulated an ungodly amount of junk over the years—still no masks in sight. 

 "Lost, huh?" 

 The voice came from nowhere, sharp and teasing. I spun around, my pulse spiking, to find a girl leaning against the wall, twirling a wrench like it was a baton. Her grin stretched wide, almost unsettling, and her blue eyes gleamed with manic energy. 

"Marianne?"

 "That's me!" she chirped, spinning the wrench once more before catching it with a flourish. "And you must be... oh, wait, let me guess." She tapped the wrench to her temple dramatically. "Something cool, something dark, something mysterious. Hmmm... Belmont!" 

 I blinked. "How did you—?" 

 "Easy," she interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. "You have that 'I'm-important-and-don't-want-to-be-here' vibe. Plus, Roch wouldn't shut up about the new guy. Big deal, blah blah, all that jazz." 

 "Right," I muttered, a little thrown off. "Uh, nice to meet you?" 

 She cackled, the sound sharp and chaotic. "Nice? Nice is boring, but I'll take it. So, Belmont—like the vampire hunter, huh? You any good with a whip?" 

 I frowned. "A whip?" 

 "Castlevania!" she exclaimed, hopping up on a crate and swinging her legs like a hyperactive kid. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never heard of it! The whip, the monsters, the DRAMA! You'd love it!" 

 "I'll take your word for it," I said dryly. 

 "You're no fun," she pouted, then perked up again in an instant. "Wait, wait, wait—are you here undercover? Like, to kill us all? Ooooh, say yes! That'd be so fun!" Her eyes widened, gleaming with excitement. 

 "Sure," I said, playing along. "Just keep it between us, okay?" 

 She gasped, clutching her chest theatrically. "Secrets! I love secrets! Don't worry, I'm great at keeping them. Well, unless someone bribes me with chocolate. Or explosives. Or, ooh, shiny stuff!" She leaned closer, tilting her head. "What's your price, huh? Everyone's got one." 

 "I'll let you know when I figure it out," I said, edging toward the door. 

 She hopped down in front of me, blocking my way, and peered up with a grin that was almost too wide. "So, you and the prince, huh? Are you, like, his shiny new toy or something?"

 "Something like that," I muttered, trying not to squirm under her piercing gaze. 

 "Ooooh," she cooed, circling me like a predator. "I bet he likes you all neat and tidy. Bet he hates when you get messy. But you like messy, don't you?" 

 I didn't even know how to respond to that. My phone buzzed, and I seized the chance to escape, glancing down at the message from Clock. "Time's up," I said, stepping past her. "You know your way to the armory?" 

 "Do I know—ha! Please." She spun the wrench again, almost hitting herself in the face, and laughed like it was the funniest thing ever. "I could find it blindfolded. With my hands tied. Riding a unicycle. On fire."

 "Great," I said, not bothering to ask for clarification. "See you there." 

 "Bye, Belmont!" she called, her voice sing-song and mocking. "Don't get lost, or eaten, or blown up—or do! That'd be way more interesting!" 

 I shook my head, jogging down the corridor. That girl is absolute chaos.

When something forbidden is just within reach, it's like your brain plays a trick on you and gets stuck on it. You can't think about anything else but that one forbidden thing. Like Clocksworth's thigh brushing against mine during the entire damn car ride. Opposite us, Anthony sat like a murderous chaperone, preventing me from seductively running my hand along the inside of Clock's leg. No matter how much I wanted to. Fuck, what a torment. 

 After an hour in the car, boredom took over, and I almost considered doing it anyway, just to see their reactions—but I stopped myself. We were on an important diplomatic mission, and apparently, Anthony rarely even left the safety of the castle walls. It was a big deal just to ride in the car with him. 

It struck me that, despite being so big and scary, he was kind of a coward, always hiding in his study. 

 We drove through the French countryside on winding roads, the gravel peppering the black paintwork. We were headed to a castle that belonged to Levi, Anthony's brother. Whether they were actual brothers, I didn't know, but that's what he called him. 

 After two hours in the car, I felt unbearably restless and so damn thirsty for blood. I licked my lips for the hundredth time, realizing I hadn't eaten breakfast today. My right leg started bouncing up and down in quick, jerky movements as I drummed my fingers on my thigh, staring out at the vineyards passing by outside. 

 "When did you last feed?" Anthony's voice pulled me back to reality. I avoided his gaze and started fiddling with the buttons on my new black suit. "Belmont?" 

 "Yesterday," I answered evasively. 

 "How much?" He scrutinized me, and I hesitated, knowing I drank twice as much as everyone else. Maybe more. His eyes bore into me as he muttered irritably, "You need to learn to control your hunger." I nodded jerkily, chewing anxiously on my bottom lip. 

 "Not today," Clock sighed, opening a small cooler built into the luxurious car. He leaned closer, handed me a blood bag, and spoke softly. "Take it easy, kid. Drink slowly." 

 I nodded again, unable to tear my eyes away from the bag, relishing the sensation as my fangs pierced the soft plastic and the blood filled my mouth. Anthony studied me thoughtfully. "Clocksworth, give him another." 

 Clock hesitated. "Are you sure that—" 

 Anthony shot him a murderous look. "You'll have three days to wean him off it when we get home." 

 Grinding his teeth, Clock handed me another one, which I eagerly drained. Satisfied, like a four-year-old who'd been allowed to eat an entire bag of candy, I leaned back, basking in the rush. Life was so damn amazing, I thought, before I drifted off to sleep.  If I hadn't been so high, I probably would've worried about what Anthony thought. But he didn't pay me any attention. Instead, he stared intensely at the man beside me. 

 "Will your feelings for the boy be a problem?"

Clock met his gaze steadily and shook his head. "Of course not." 

 Anthony tilted his head, contemplating the response. "I was never who you needed me to be," he muttered bitterly. "I haven't seen you happy in hundreds of years, Theodor, and I don't begrudge you a new toy." 

 "But?" 

Anthony pressed, his tone sharp. "Be discrete," the prince snapped in response. 

 Clocksworth rolled his eyes before locking eyes with Anthony again. "Haven't I so far?" 

 Anthony chuckled softly. "Your friends in the basement might be too dumb to notice anything, but some of us are smarter than that." 

 Clock nodded a few times, his eyes drifting to me, where I lay dozing with a childish smile on my lips. He sat silently for a moment, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. "A long time ago, I could ask you for anything I wanted, as payment for everything I've done for you." 

 The terrifying man leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his expression suddenly intrigued. "Let me get this straight," he said with a sly grin. "Of all I can give you—wealth, power, freedom—you want him? Are you sure?" 

 "If you grant me this, Anthony, I'll never ask you for anything again."

 "Not even an official life with me?" Anthony teased. "Or perhaps it's a life without me that you want?" 

 Clock hesitated, holding Anthony's gaze for a long moment before replying. "You misunderstand me. I don't want to be without you. If I wanted to leave your house, I would have done so long ago." 

 The prince leaned back into the black leather seat, a curious smile playing on his lips, and gestured lazily with one hand. "So, you want us both?" 

 Clocksworth drew in a deep breath before reaching for Anthony's hand. Surprisingly, he let him. "I'm bound to you. I love you. You're my first love, Anthony." He sighed, casting a glance at me. "But I need him too." 

 "I know," the eldest of us sighed, almost irritably. "I can hardly stop you. Your bond grows stronger by the day." 

 "So?" 

 "I can't give you what you already have."