The heavy, reinforced oak doors of the kitchen shuddered violently, the thick wood groaning as something massive slammed into them from the other side.
BANG.
"Boss!" a feral, maddened voice shrieked from the hallway, the sound completely devoid of human reason. "We can smell her! Give her to us! The blood is driving us crazy!"
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He grabbed me by the waist and violently shoved me completely behind his broad back, positioning his massive body between me and the shuddering doors.
The Mafia King lowered his stance. His jaw unhinged slightly as his fangs fully extended, his eyes burning with an apocalyptic, toxic emerald fire.
He wasn't preparing to fight the Inquisition. He was preparing to slaughter his own army to protect me.
"Get under the marble island, Seraphina," Kaelen commanded, his voice a low, demonic rumble that vibrated the shattered glass on the floor. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. If one of them gets past me, use the scalpel."
I didn't argue. I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my torn cardigan slipping off my shoulder, and wedged myself into the narrow space beneath the heavy overhang of the kitchen island. I grabbed the bloody silver scalpel I had dropped earlier, my hands shaking so violently the blade rattled against the tiles.
CRACK.
The solid brass hinges of the double doors violently gave way. The heavy oak splintered inward, crashing to the pristine floor.
A dozen men poured into the kitchen.
I recognized some of them from the perimeter patrols. They were Kaelen's elite guards, men who had previously operated with terrifying military discipline. Now, they looked like feral wolves rabid with rabies. Their tactical vests were torn, their eyes blazing with the same sickly, toxic yellow that had consumed David. They were entirely high on the narcotic cocktail of my blood that had tainted the synthetic batch.
They surged forward, drawn by the overwhelming scent of the fresh blood pooling around David's decapitated body.
"Stand down," Kaelen roared, his voice hitting the men like a physical shockwave.
Three of the guards froze, their ancient instincts briefly fighting the frenzy. But the others didn't stop. The overwhelming scent of the cure—my raw blood—had completely overridden their loyalty to the King.
"She's ours!" one of the guards snarled, lunging directly at Kaelen with blinding speed.
It was a catastrophic mistake.
Kaelen didn't just defend himself. He erupted into a whirlwind of ancient, unadulterated violence. He caught the first guard by the throat, his massive hand crushing the man's windpipe instantly, and threw him with such devastating force that the body shattered the heavy stainless-steel double refrigerator.
The kitchen descended into absolute chaos.
I clamped my hands over my ears, curling into a tight ball under the marble, but I couldn't shut out the horrific sounds of the slaughter. The sickening crunch of snapping bones, the tearing of flesh, the guttural, agonizing screams of vampires being ripped apart by their own Sire.
A second guard managed to slip past Kaelen's sweeping arm. His yellow eyes locked onto me, hiding under the counter. He dropped to all fours, scrambling toward me like a starved dog, his jaw snapping wildly.
I thrust the silver scalpel outward, completely terrified.
Before the feral guard could reach me, Kaelen's heavy boot slammed down onto the man's back, pinning him to the floor. Without even looking down, Kaelen reached, grabbed the guard by the tactical vest, and effortlessly threw him thirty feet across the massive room. The guard crashed into the brick wall of the pantry, his skull cracking audibly upon impact.
"I said, stay back!" Kaelen roared, ripping the arm off a third attacker and using it as a blunt weapon against the next.
He was a force of mythological destruction. He moved faster than my eyes could process, a blur of shadow and emerald fire. He wasn't using elegance. He was using sheer, brutal, overpowering dominance to put down a rebellion fueled by my biology.
Within two agonizing minutes, the massive kitchen was a horrific slaughterhouse.
Nine men lay dead or catastrophically injured on the floor. The pristine white tiles were entirely coated in a thick, slippery layer of dark, corrupted blood and shattered glass. The remaining three guards, the ones who had hesitated, were cowering near the ruined doorway, shivering violently in terror as the frenzy finally broke under the crushing weight of Kaelen's authority.
Kaelen stood in the center of the carnage. His ruined tuxedo trousers and bare chest were completely soaked in gore. He was breathing heavily, his fangs fully exposed, his eyes blazing.
He turned his terrifying gaze to the three surviving guards.
"If you ever follow this scent again," Kaelen growled, pointing a blood-stained finger at them, "I will not just kill you. I will burn you alive and scatter your ashes in the ocean. Clean up this absolute mess. Now."
The three men scrambled to their feet, bowing their heads submissively, completely terrified of the monster they had tried to challenge.
Kaelen didn't look at them again. He turned toward the marble island.
He knelt down gracefully, ignoring the blood soaking into his knees, and looked under the counter.
I was violently shaking, clutching the silver scalpel to my chest, my eyes wide with a trauma that I knew would haunt my nightmares forever. I had created this massacre. I was the poison that had driven them mad.
Kaelen's expression softened, just a fraction. The apocalyptic rage vanished, replaced by that dark, possessive intensity.
"Drop the knife, Seraphina," he murmured softly.
My fingers were locked in a death grip around the bone handle. "They're going to keep coming," I sobbed, tears cutting hot paths through the blood splattered on my cheeks. "I'm in their system, Kaelen. They're all going to come for me."
"They will not touch you," Kaelen stated with absolute, terrifying certainty. "Drop the knife."
I slowly uncurled my fingers. The scalpel hit the floor.
Kaelen reached under the counter. He didn't grab me roughly. He placed one hand on my waist and the other under my knees, gently pulling me out from my hiding place. He lifted me effortlessly into his arms, completely ignoring the fact that my ruined clothes and bleeding neck were staining his skin further.
I buried my face entirely into the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms tightly around his broad shoulders. He smelled of extreme violence, cold rain, and death, but right now, he was the safest place on earth.
He carried me out of the ruined kitchen, stepping over the decapitated body of his oldest friend without a second glance.
The walk through the grand corridors of the Vane Estate was eerie. The surviving guards we passed immediately dropped their gazes to the floor, terrified to even look at the woman the Boss was carrying. They could smell my blood, but the horrific sounds of the kitchen massacre had clearly established a new, absolute rule: The Doctor is untouchable.
Kaelen bypassed the West Wing initially. He carried me up the sweeping marble staircase and directly into the East Wing. His wing.
He pushed the heavy mahogany double doors of his Master Suite open with his shoulder. The massive room was dimly lit, a roaring fire casting dancing golden shadows. He walked directly toward the en-suite bathroom, a space of black marble and gold fixtures, and set me down gently on the edge of the deep porcelain soaking tub.
I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, shivering violently as the adrenaline completely crashed, leaving nothing but the crushing weight of the venom withdrawal and the trauma of the assault.
Kaelen turned on the water. It was scalding hot. Steam instantly began to fill the massive room.
"Take those ruined clothes off, Dr. Laurent," Kaelen commanded softly.
"I can't," I whispered, my hands trembling too badly.
Kaelen stepped forward. His cold hands moved with surprising gentleness. He slipped the ruined grey cardigan off my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. He unbuttoned the shredded remains of my silk blouse, peeling it away until I was sitting in nothing but my torn underwear.
I closed my eyes tightly, shame and trauma warring in my chest.
"Do not look away," Kaelen murmured, placing two fingers under my chin and tilting my head up. "You survived. The lesser beasts are dead. Look at me."
I opened my eyes. He reached behind me and gently guided me into the deep tub. The scalding water stung the torn bite mark on my neck violently, but it felt incredibly grounding.
He knelt beside the tub, completely ruining his expensive trousers, and began to wash me with a coarse sponge and sandalwood body wash. He was methodical, focused on eradicating every trace of David's scent.
"He touched you," Kaelen growled softly, his jaw ticking violently. "He dared to put his filthy hands on the architect of my survival."
"It's my fault," I sobbed, tears mixing with the bathwater. "I used my own blood. I turned myself into a drug."
"You made a tactical error," Kaelen corrected smoothly. "But you are suffering, Seraphina. I can feel the violent vibration of your pulse. I can see the venom withdrawal tearing your nervous system apart. You are begging for the narcotic."
"Please," I whispered. "Make it stop. Make me forget what he did."
Kaelen went perfectly still. He leaned over the edge of the tub, his face mere inches from mine.
"You are actively asking me to feed on you," he said, his voice a dangerous, silken whisper. "To satisfy an addiction."
"Yes," I confessed. "I want the venom. I want you to overwrite his memory."
Kaelen's expression hardened into something ancient and infinitely cruel. "I will not just overwrite his pathetic memory, Doctor. I will burn him entirely out of your veins."