The vibrant lights swallowed Mark as he entered the limo.

He gazed over his shoulder, catching Dark's bright, glimmering eyes, before Anti nudged him further inside.

He was going to get through this.

He sat at the farthest end of the limousine, the leather seats cold and unwelcoming—rumbling along with the shiver of the engine. The glasses lining the mini-bar glinted under the lights above, practically blinding him. His fingers subconsciously glanced over his pocket, making sure the vial and the device were still there.

    He glanced out the tinted windows, heart racing when Anti approached Dark with that slithering, dangerous stride. They were talking, glaring at each other and raising their hackles, but before he could try to eavesdrop, Cibil walked in.

    She grabbed the side of the door and hauled herself inside, making her way to the seat on the side—right in the very middle. Not too close to Mark, but close enough. She glanced over at him, staring at him through her blindfold without a word.

    Mark swallowed and straightened himself, his skin crawling.

    Dark told me to stay away from her, he thought.

    She wouldn't stop staring.

    Mark sat there, wringing his painted hands together, casting her odd glances before trying to distract himself from her laser-focused gaze. It was as if she were staring straight into his soul. His very essence. His very human nature. Like she knew.

    He glanced out the window, chest giving a wrench as Dark clenched his fists, baring his teeth as Anti walked away.

    I won't see him for two weeks, he thought.

    His heart skipped when Antinstine clambered into the car, shutting the door with a violent slam. The limo rocked at the motion, and Anti pounded on the driver's window as he sat down. He stared Mark down all the while, eyes glowing.

    "I want you to listen close," said Anti, and the limo began to move, driving away from the club. From Dark. From what little semblance of safety Mark had.

    Cibil pulled her gaze away from Mark, staring out the window and separating herself from the scene. Mark gave a relieved sigh at that, but Anti's presence only made the air in the limousine thicker.

    "Yer obviously a bit of a rebel," said Anti, eyes glinting. "So I won't bother to talk about rules."

    He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers. Mark straightened himself and glared, remembering his character, his purpose.

    "All you need to know," said Anti, "is that you are mine." He smirked, leaning back and unfolding himself in a single, graceful motion. His arms draped over the seats as he crossed his legs. "And—as mine—my word is law."

    Anti glanced over at his nails, letting them glint under the vibrant lights. He smirked and rose a brow at Mark, his aura smug and victorious.

    "My people will have a constant watch over you. They will pick you apart—think, say, do whatever they please... And if yer caught doing anything suspicious, well..." He leaned to the side, running his thumb along his throat in a smooth, languid motion. "I wouldn't say dead, but... worse."

    Mark took a deep breath, trying to hide the tension in his body. His limbs had locked from the constant, suppressing fear, but he tried to stay clear-headed.

    "Let them do what they want," he said, cringing at how weak his voice sounded. Thankfully, the rumble of the engine and the rush of the other cars outside hid the shake in his throat. "Killing me would be a waste of time."

    Antinstine's eyes lit up at that, and he grinned, fangs glinting. "Oh, I know," he said. "We've already discussed it."

    A sickness rose in Mark's throat at that. He'd almost forgotten—had blocked most of what they'd said to try and forget everything.

    Anti took satisfaction in hurting what Dark had loved. And hurting one of his family members? One of his Evolveds?

    Though Mark had no idea what was coming for him, he knew it wouldn't be good. Anti could torture him for all he knew—and that might even be putting it lightly.

    But... if Dark found out—

    "But," cut Anti's voice through his thoughts, and he snapped back to reality, "I'll go easy on you tonight. For today, I'll let you get settled with the big leagues."

    He motioned over to Cibil, whose gaze had returned to attention—no longer drifted.

    "Cibil here will lead you to your rooms," said Anti. "Not like you deserve them. Think of it as a... courtesy."

    The rush of the cars began to fade, and Mark glanced out the window, finding the city gone. A light glittered up ahead, and Mark realized it was the mansion—so much bigger now that they were up close. He almost had to squint with how bright it was.

    "You still have a choice, you know," said Anti, and a loud creaking of metal echoed ahead. Mark's jaw tightened, and he spared a glance out the window. Two Evolveds stood outside, hands guiding the metal gates open.

    Metal... benders...? he vaguely thought.

    "You can still join my side."

    Mark glanced back over at that, his heart racing.

    There.

    Gain his trust. Learn his plans.

    "Your side?" breathed Mark, narrowing his eyes.

    It wasn't part of the plan, but... if he formed some sort of relationship with Antinstine—anything other than enemies...

    His defeat would be much more satisfactory.

    Antinstine smiled, eyelids drooping. "Well... Dark doesn't really have a side... He's more a... rebellious gang now. A nuisance."

    Anti leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. The limo pulled around a fountain and stopped.

    "I have a real cause," breathed Antinstine, smile dropping and tone going serious. Now that the limo wasn't moving, his voice was much louder. "You can be a part of it, Viper."

    The limo door opened, and Anti straightened himself, his smile coming back.

    "I'll let you think about it," he said, fangs glinting. "For now... rest."

    Mark felt a surge of welcoming in his chest, but as Anti clambered out of the car, Cibil's gaze locked on him again. They lingered for only a second, but it felt like hours—gazing at each other. Despite her blindfold, her stare was strong. Prominent. Searching.

    Cibil only knew of the pain that would ensue. The excuse of what they'd call victory. Antinstine's offer hadn't appeared in her visions, nor had Mark's answer.

    Whatever Mark decided would cause the terror to come.

    Whatever Mark decided would cause his love to bleed.

    The blood to paint the floors would not belong to a single Evolved. It would be mixed... streaked with black.

    Cibil pulled her gaze away, standing, and Mark gave a visible breath as if it'd been torn from his mouth. She glanced back at him, and they clambered out of the vehicle.

    The driver shut the door behind them, and Mark couldn't help but glance up at the entrance, his eyes going wide. The golden lights glittered on his complexion, and he almost forgot about his role.

    "Nice, I know," came Anti's snarky tone, and Mark straightened himself again. Cibil joined his side, staring at him eerily again. He swallowed and quickly glanced away.

    "It's terrible," Mark lied, and Anti only smirked.

    The doors opened with a loud creak, and two men kept it open, staring at the three of them. Their eyes lingered on Mark—burning, curious, judgemental... His skin already began to crawl, and once he got a glance of the inside of the mansion, he knew this feeling would only get worse.

    Despite the hour, Evolveds walked to and fro in the grand foyer, their chatter rolling off the elegant walls in a dull roar. They disappeared up the two stairways, or down the different hallways. Their feet clicked on the marble floors, and Mark swore Cibil had to nudge him forward to get him into the mansion.

    The doors shut with a defiant, echoing thud behind him, and his heart shot into his throat.

    He was trapped.

    His breaths came out faster, and his fists clenched at his sides.

    There was no escaping now.

    Evolveds glanced over at their arrival, happy to see Antinstine's face. When they'd get a look at Mark, their eyes would widen. Some mouths would go agape, others smirking or scowling... But despite their blatant curiosity, they didn't seem to intrude. Perhaps that was Antinstine's doing.

    They walked further into the grand foyer, and from the upstairs hallway, Prada appeared, eyes going angled and lips curling into a smirk as he spotted them.

    "Antinstine," he greeted. Mark's blood went cold at the sight of the horned-Evolved, his skin crawling. Just the thought of Prada's ability had his insides squirming.

    Prada made his way down the stairs, hand gliding over the golden railing. Every movement was smooth, elegant—with a hint of jaggedness. As if he were a claymation character. It reminded Mark of the blood dolls from the Market, and he swallowed.

    "I see you've gotten the Evolved," said Prada, giving a thin-lipped smile. His angled, yellow eyes flashed, giving Mark a simple glance. Now that he was up close, Mark could see more of his features in detail.

    Despite his dark skin, the red markings on his face stood out like glowing embers. They curved over the hook of his nose, his cheeks, his jaw... accenting the sharp of his eyes. His nails were sharp and long—almost like the strings to a puppet.

    And then his horns... not very tall but still sharp and slender enough to be intimidating. They reminded him of a gazelle.

    "You'll like him," said Antinstine, smirking. Mark noted the sickeningly friendly air between the two of them, and he recognized Prada as one of Antinstine's closest men. "He's got a rebellious heart I'd love to tame."

    Mark shuddered at his wording, but then Prada's eyes landed on his person. He gazed deep into Mark's eyes, then scanned down his body, landing at the black markings of his arms.

    "He doesn't seem special to me," said Prada, glancing back up and catching Mark's eyes.

    "He's the weakest," said Antinstine. "A chance to get rid of the weaker link? Dark was bound to have done it eventually."

    Mark clenched his fists at that, and Anti only smirked at his reaction.

    "Tell Syl and Ox he's arrived," said Anti. "I want them prepared for tomorrow."

    Prada smiled, and he gave one last glance at Mark before nodding. He walked down the middle hallway, disappearing down another corridor.

    The traffic of the mansion began to slow, and Mark couldn't help but give a relieved breath.

    "Sleep well, Viper," said Antinstine, leaning down so his lips brushed against Mark's ear. Mark swallowed, straightening himself and leaning away. "I have much planned for you."

    Anti smirked, nodding over to Cibil before heading towards the throne room, disappearing down the left hallway.

    Cibil and Mark stood alone.

    Without a word, she walked forward, and Mark hesitantly followed, trying not to make eye contact with the other Evolveds. They walked up the staircase and onto the balcony, gazing down the hallway that Prada had originally come from. It stretched on for ages, doors lining it.

    "These are everyone's rooms," said Cibil, and Mark almost startled, having never heard her voice since seeing her.

    Great, he thought. Surrounded by Evolveds even in his sleep.

    She walked forward, and Mark tagged along, nervously running his eyes along the many doors. A few Evolveds walked down the halls, and they eyed Mark like predators to prey.

    They turned down the T and stopped at a door at the dead-end. Dread rose in Mark's throat as they approached it, and he couldn't help but wring his hands together, hoping no one would see.

    They stopped before the door.

    "There's two Evolveds to a room," said Cibil. Mark had to replay her words to realize what she was saying.

    Two Evolveds to a room.

    Cibil glanced behind them, finding it clear, then turned to Mark. She grabbed his hands and gently squeezed them.

    "You will share a room with Prada," she said, gaze intense through her blindfold.

    Oh no... oh god... oh please—

    Mark shook his head, trying to brush off his fear as agitation.

    "Him?" he wearily scoffed. "I don't want to b—"

    "Trust... in me," said Cibil. Mark stopped mid-sentence, unable to help but blink at what she'd said. She pulled her hands away and opened the door, letting it swing open. The lights were already on, glowing like the rest of the mansion, and Mark couldn't help but swallow.

    Trust, my ass, he thought. He couldn't trust anyone on Antinstine's side.

    The room was quite spacious; the middle had no furniture but a large, circular rug like a common room. Ropes and chord-like plants draped from the ceiling and adorned the corners. The beds creaked with worn oak and age, giving the room a rustic tone despite the elegance of the mansion. It fit the aesthetic of Prada's shop in the Market.

    "Your bed is on the left," said Cibil, pointing to a bed pressed into the wall.

    It was bare, yellow sheets tucked in with a single pillow. A couple dolls, twigs, and loose rope accented the floor beneath it. It made Mark uneasy.

    If Prada didn't want to bend his blood, he could always—

    He pulled his gaze away from the rope.

    "I'll let you rest," said Cibil, nudging him further into the spacious room. She turned off the lights, but instead of swarming darkness, a few rustic lanterns kept the room dim.

    "Goodnight, Viper," she said softly. "My sister will see you tomorrow."

    Mark swallowed and nodded, standing there in the dim lights. Cibil gave one glance at him before closing the door, letting it click shut.

    His character seemed to crumble right then and there.

    Mark's breath left his chest, and his breaths wavered. Knees buckled, eyes stung, heart wrenched.

    He was trapped here, all alone, surrounded by people who could kill him without effort—hell—could kill him for the fun of it.

    He was helpless—a mere human—left to fend for himself against gods, giants... monsters.

    Mark breathed hard, running his hands through his hair and tugging.

    He kept telling himself he'd get through this. Kept replaying that mantra of fear into fuel in his head, and yet—no matter how much he faked it—no matter how real of an Evolved he was able to portray... he would never be their equal. He would never be able to let go of the fear, the terror... the horrors of what could happen to him. He would always be human.

    And the fact that this pain, this fear that he felt... was satisfying to the Evolveds here...

    It only made his heart race faster and his mind fray further.

    He wearily made his way to his new bed, sliding in and laying down. He pulled the covers over him, running his hands over the device and the cold, glass vial in his pocket.

    The image of Dark flashed in his mind, and he couldn't help but smile in the slightest. An image of hope in such a time of despair.

    He recalled the first time he'd saw Dark, the Tear Stealer, on television... the times as a kid he spent daydreaming of being as cool as him and other Evolveds...

    Then learning of his malicious ways—of the terrors—of the sheer potential and power Evolveds had...

    He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. He didn't even realize he was tearing up.

    His mind drifted to the night he first saw Dark in person... in the flesh... The sky hazy and highlighting Dark's elegant, powerful figure... how his robes fluttered in the fog.

    Centauri Park.

    He thought of when they first met.

    Mark's heart raced, still able to recall the pain coursing through his body, the adrenaline, the fear, the anger... Dark's features were clear as day in his memory, sharp, angled, seething... reeking of utter power, poise, regality and superiority... compared to the look of passion on his face as they'd made love. Intertwined—not just by limbs but by human and Evolved.

    He smiled at the thought.

            To think he wanted to kill Dark at first... get a souvenir of his tears for his collection... and now he was in an entirely new world. Surrounded by Evolveds—stuck in a world he never knew existed... It was all too surreal.

    And as he began to drift off, thinking of Dark... of the other Evolveds on his side... he began to feel hope again. He remembered his cause again, his purpose... the reason he'd been so determined to force himself through this agony.

    He lived in a world separated by power. And now that he stood in a position that could change the tides—change those terrible standards...

    He couldn't give up.

    No matter how hard it would be.

    Mark grazed his fingers over the device in his pocket again, giving a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

    Two weeks, he told himself.

    Just two weeks.

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day!

Love you all,

Kass xoxo