Vivienne’s POV
The Bloodmoon Club throbbed with bass and neon, every pulse of the music vibrating through the crowded room. Heat, perfume, sweat, laughter—everything blurred together until the whole place felt like it was closing in on me. No amount of whiskey—burning, bitter, relentless—could quiet the ache twisting inside my chest. The lights smeared into streaks of red and silver as people moved around me, but my mind kept circling back to the same image.
Them. Together.
In the elevated VIP booth, I saw Dominic—my personal bodyguard, the one man I’d trusted without question—standing stiff and composed beside Cassandra. She leaned in toward him, whispering something flirtatious, fingers brushing along the line of his jaw as if she had every right to touch him.
His expression cracked.
Just slightly.
His ears turned pink.
A blush.
My fingers tightened around my glass so hard that it shattered in my hand.
Before I could decide whether to scream or cry, I threw back what was left of my drink and shoved my way to the dance floor. I needed noise. Chaos. Anything that wasn’t the quiet agony of watching the two people who had hurt me the most stand inches apart like fate had always intended them for each other.
My dress—a deep, dangerous red—clung to my body like armor. Men gravitated to it instantly. A group of drunk rich heirs circled me, each one emboldened by the alcohol in their system and the darkness of the club.
One reached for my waist.
“Touch me again,” I warned, my voice sharp enough to draw blood, “and you’ll regret it.”
They only laughed. Another leaned in closer.
My reflexes dulled by liquor, I reacted a beat too late.
So I snapped,
“Dominic!”
Everything stopped.
The men scattered the moment Dominic pushed through the crowd, his presence alone enough to make them back off. He didn’t have to raise his voice. He didn’t even have to lift a hand. He just stood there—broad-shouldered, authoritative—and they fled like cowards.
I scoffed. “Oh, so you do remember who you’re assigned to,” I said, dripping with resentment. “I assumed you’d wait until she told you I needed help.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t see them—”
“Please,” I cut him off, stepping close enough to inhale the cologne on his collar. “You only see Cassandra. That’s your whole world now, isn’t it?”
He looked away, which told me everything.
“You’re drunk,” he muttered.
“Good,” I replied. “I prefer it.”
I turned to walk away, but a piercing scream sliced through the music.
And suddenly the room exploded into chaos.
People were running, overturning tables, shouting. The floor turned into a tangle of bodies and panic. Someone must have triggered a fight—one of the dangerous street gangs the club had been trying to keep out recently.
I spun toward Dominic.
He had already moved.
Straight to Cassandra.
Always, always to her.
Before I fully grasped the situation, one of the attackers was suddenly in front of me—a man with wild eyes and a knife glinting in his hand. I lunged at him, adrenaline surging, managing to scratch his face before he dodged and drove the blade into my shoulder.
Fire tore through me.
I screamed as the world warped, pain spreading like poison under my skin. I staggered, clutching my wound, the metallic scent of blood filling my lungs. He vanished into the chaos without another look.
My legs gave out.
Just before the darkness swallowed me, I saw Dominic rushing through the crowd—still guarding Cassandra like she was the only life worth protecting.
Then the world went black.
---
I woke to the sterile burn of antiseptic. The ceiling was white. The sheets smelled like bleach. Machines beeped softly beside me. My shoulder throbbed viciously.
But I was awake.
Doctors had always said the gang that attacked us used a drug known for inducing prolonged comas—fast, dangerous, almost irreversible. Victims slept for months.
Yet I was conscious.
Why?
My gaze drifted to the frosted glass wall separating my room from the hallway.
Soft voices floated through.
I turned my head—and froze.
Cassandra stood outside… in Dominic’s arms.
He held her delicately, like she was made of porcelain. His hand stroked her hair. His voice—normally cold and clipped—had melted into something gentle.
“I shouldn’t have let you come,” he murmured. “I should’ve protected you better.”
Cassandra sniffled. “But Vivienne… she got hurt because of me.”
“That’s not your fault,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
She looked up at him, eyes shimmering. “Why do you care so much, Dominic? Why her… not me?”
His voice trembled.
“Because I lo—”
A crash cut him off.
The vase beside my bed had slipped from my hand.
Cassandra spun around, eyes wide. Dominic stiffened.
They ran into the room.
“Vivienne!” Cassandra gasped. “You’re awake! Thank God, I’ve been so worried—”
“Drop the performance,” I said icily. “My recovery slows down every second you stand near me.”
Her face fell. She fled the room in tears.
Dominic stayed.
“I didn’t have time—”
“You had time for her,” I snapped. “You always do.”
He had no answer to that.
---
The day I was released, my shoulder heavily bandaged, I walked into the study where Dominic waited.
He stood at attention.
“Kneel,” I said.
He flinched, but he obeyed—slowly lowering himself to the floor.
“You failed the duties you swore to me,” I said quietly. “By the standards of your contract, that’s grounds for dismissal and public disgrace. Some families demand… harsher outcomes.”
His eyes flickered, but he remained still.
“I’m not going to ruin your life, Dominic. But punishment? You’ll take it.”
“If that’s what you want,” he murmured. “Then I will.”
Those words—spoken so obediently—stabbed deeper than any knife.
Of course he’d accept.
If it meant staying in Cassandra’s orbit, he’d kneel for anyone.
My hand lifted, ready to strike—
But the door burst open.
“STOP!”
Cassandra sprinted inside, throwing herself between us.
“If you’re angry, punish me! Dominic doesn’t deserve this!”
“Move,” I ordered.
“No.”
Dominic tried to pull her aside, but she clung to the floor.
“I said move!” I screamed, the fury inside me erupting.
She didn’t move.
My hand came down before I could stop it.
Cassandra cried out as the blow landed, her arm splitting open.
Dominic caught her before she hit the ground, rage contorting every line of his face.
He stared at me like I was a stranger.
Then he carried her out without looking back.
The door slammed.
Silence swallowed the room.
I stared at my trembling hands—stained with her blood—and the hollow ache in my chest spread until I could hardly breathe.
