"You want me to lie to him?" Ariana asked, pacing the stone floor of the inner chamber.
Damien didn't answer immediately. He stood by the window, arms crossed, profile carved in shadow. His jaw clenched.
"No," he said finally. "I want you to sell it."
Ariana's breath hitched.
"Then you'll have to believe it too."
---
Later that night.
They stood before a circle of clan elders and spies—some still loyal, others… not so much. Xander's eyes and ears were everywhere.
This had to look real.
Damien had stripped down to his battle leathers. His hair was unbound, his skin glowing faintly under the torchlight. He looked wild. On the edge. Like something barely chained.
Ariana walked in—head high, face like stone.
"What is she doing here?" one of the elders spat. "She's the reason Theron is dead!"
"Exactly," Ariana said coldly. "And if Damien had done what needed to be done weeks ago, maybe Theron wouldn't have been turned."
Damien's eyes locked on hers.
She didn't flinch.
He stepped forward, slowly. The room grew tense.
"You're questioning me now?" he said, voice low.
"I'm not questioning," she said. "I'm telling you. You let love blind you. And people died."
Gasps.
A hiss of warning from one of the guards.
Ariana pushed forward, reaching up and pulling Damien's hand to her chest. "Maybe Xander was right," she whispered. "Maybe you're not fit to lead."
> That was the line.
In the far corner of the chamber, a shadow twitched—barely visible. Watching. Listening.
Damien reacted exactly as planned.
He grabbed her by the throat.
Lifted her.
Eyes glowing crimson.
> "Say that again," he snarled.
And in that moment—he looked utterly broken. Consumed. Unstable.
But his grip was gentle.
Ariana choked convincingly, thrashing once, twice—then went limp.
He dropped her.
Spat blood beside her body.
"Get her out of my sight," he growled. "Put her in chains."
---
Hours later. Deep underground.
Ariana sat chained to a wall in a hidden chamber. Only Damien knew where she was. Only he had the key.
He entered silently.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
He crossed the room and dropped to his knees before her.
His lips crashed into hers—raw and furious.
She kissed him back—shaking, aching, aroused and afraid.
> "You sold it too well," he whispered against her mouth.
> "So did you," she breathed. "I almost believed you hated me."
He rested his forehead to hers.
"I never could."
---
That night, Xander entered her dream again.
But this time, Ariana was ready.
She played the part of the broken girl. The discarded pet. She whispered lies with tears in her eyes. Told him Damien was losing control. That he struck her. That he was unraveling.
And Xander drank it in.
"I can give you better," he murmured. "You just have to open the door for me, sweet thing. Let me in."
Ariana smiled.
Inside the dream, behind her back, her hand traced a sigil in the air.
> "Then come, Xander," she whispered sweetly. "I'm yours."