Warning: Chapter ends on a pretty scary note, so just be careful, y'all. Mentions of physical abuse and assault.

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THIS IS SOME BIG fucking house.

Tamara tried not to groan. She had woken up at three in the morning to catch her six o'clock flight, she'd almost got into a fist fight with her cab driver for ripping her off and she was running on nine cups of coffee.

Kilvale was a fairly big town, with a café which also worked as a restaurant. The moment she'd reached, she had been drawn by the delicious smell of grilled cheese sandwich and reached the restaurant. The kind lady had taken one look at her and demanded that she eat two sandwiches and the famous Kilvale apple pie. She would have given a third slice if Tamara hadn't vehemently refused. The town also had a bookstore and a library side by side which she thought was neat. Overall, she thought it was a quaint town having all the necessary amenities.

It hadn't been hard to locate the mansion, she'd heard from the restaurant lady that there were only two big mansions in the town, one abandoned and the other occupied by the Ferons. She'd followed the directions and reached the place, a greyish mansion with a garden.

It had a lot of windows, all closed, already suffocating her. Outside the mansion, there were big black iron gates and she had to resist the urge to swing on it like a child.

But she still couldn't help but be anxious because her experience with rich people hadn't been that good. The first few weeks were always bad. They had a poisonous tongue which killed the faint of heart with its words. At the end, of her stay, if the people hadn't been influenced by her empathy at least a bit, she'd be tired of the taunts and be a few seconds away from going berserk.

But she took a deep breath and opened the big gate and stepped in, gravel crunching under her feet. She looked down for a minute, her black eyes following the gravelly path to the door. Vampires usually had these pathways outside their homes when the war was still going on, to know if there was someone outside.

They must still believe in the old ways.

She walked towards the porch admiring the pretty gardenias, roses, hyacinths and the various other plants in the garden that were in the garden on either side of the pathway.

When she finally reached the door, she took another breath, steeling herself before pressing the switch.

She could hear some shuffling inside, and then a shout.

"Hunter, could you see who that is?" A woman said. Tamara smiled, checking out Roberta's name in her mind.

Hunter groaned. "Why?" He asked, dragging out the word.

"Because it could be the caretaker?" Dane answered. "Come on, man, don't blow this."

"Why don't you go, then? I'm really comfortable here."

After some more bickering, the door was finally opened and Tamara saw that it was Dane who finally took initiative. He was in a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up till his elbows, paired with grey trousers. He was taller than her by a few inches. His dark brown hair was parted on the right, a bit messy, fluffy and long but still looking perfect. His amber eyes, trying their best to be welcoming and warm, looked tired, as if he hadn't slept in some time. He was leaner than she expected him to be, but she guessed that he wasn't working out for muscles, just to keep himself fit.

"Good morning," she said with a tired smile. "I'm Tamara."

DANE FERON NODDED AND moved to the side to let her in. His eyes flit over the woman, trying not to let the exhaustion show. It had been his turn to stay up and look after the eldest and his already ruined sleep schedule had been destroyed because of that.

What struck him first were her eyes. They were the color of midnight, the exact moment, where the world actually went quiet because nobody wished to disturb the peace. Then, it was her luggage. One suitcase, a duffel bag and a backpack.

Way lesser than the others. Dane cringed internally. What if she thought that his elder brother was going to be easy? Ugh, it was already hard work finding these people but firing them was another story altogether.

When they entered the living room, Hunter looked at the luggage and then looked at Dane as if thinking the same thing. He could see the spark of anger which was going to turn into a fire and shook his head, internally pleading to just wait and give her a chance.

Hunter went back to his phone just as Roberta came out of the kitchen while wiping her hands with a washcloth. She looked just as tired if not more, and he felt guilty for not being able to help, with the cases on his desk piling up.

"Hi," she said with a welcoming smile. "I'm Roberta. I was the one who called."

TAMARA SMILED BACK AS she looked over the big room. On one side, there was a rug, on top of which there was a couch, a table in front of it and two armchairs on either side. In front, facing the couch, was a wall mounted TV, surrounded by a few wall decorations. On another side, a dining table with six chairs and in the corner, stairs leading to everyone's rooms.

"Hunter, show Ms. Garner to her room, will you?" Roberta said.

"Tamara's fine," she said with a giggle. "Ms. Garner just makes me sound like my grandmother."

Roberta laughed with Tamara. Then she looked at Hunter and demanded, "Get up."

Hunter, who had draped himself over one of the armchairs, groaned. He was sitting sideways, his legs hanging off of one of the arms, his head resting on the other. Tamara smiled again. Clearly, he was the youngest.

The only thing that set him apart was his wavy red hair and bright, golden eyes. They were still siblings though; it could be seen in their upturned noses and round ears.

He was wearing a Deadpool t-shirt with shorts. Tamara had a niggling suspicion that Marvel was something of a common factor in the Ferons.

Hunter tipped his head back to look at his elder sister with pleading, puppy eyes only to get a pointed look. He huffed and got up, immediately walking towards the stairs as Dane pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hunt, her suitcase man, come on," Dane said in a disappointed tone. Hunter spun around in a pirouette, stomped to Tamara, grabbing her suitcase and turning again to stomp towards the stairs.

Tamara was reminded of The Hulk and followed him with an amused smile.

HUNTER COULD FEEL HER amusement and it irritated him to no end. He was sure that she was just going to be another one of those who don't really care about the person they need to look for, just that they get paid.

He stopped at a room at the end of the hallway and set down her suitcase in front of the door. Then, he turned around, not sparing her a glance and walking away. She watched him go and the tattoo in the back caught her eye.

THEY WERE IN AN ancient language, a language that witches of the night didn't have to be taught. Tamara's mind was hard wired to understand them, so she immediately knew what the tattoo said.

Hope. Power. Life.

Moon glyphs weren't a language, they were mostly just used by witches when they needed to use magic to speed up potions. During the war, their kind had lost hope. The witches were the ones who had told them about moon glyphs and the three symbols, which were rarely used but they were still made as a reminder to them that hope is the only thing that powered life. The ones fighting and hiding had had it tattooed into their bodies.

"You fought in the war?" Tamara asked without thinking. Hunter stopped in his tracks and turned back, looking at her with curiosity. He didn't think she was alive during the war.

"Yeah. You too?" He asked. Tamara shook her head and said, "No. But those symbols meant a lot at the time," she said, pulling her sleeve up to show the same three symbols in her arm. He nodded when she saw them and walked away. Tamara smiled, knowing that she'd gained at least some respect from him.

She was going to open the door when her hand paused, remembering the dream again. She stared at the knob for a second before shaking her head and turning it.

"Goddamn," she murmured when she entered, shutting the door behind her. The guest room was a master bedroom in itself, highlighting the old money. She set down her duffel bag on the big bed and went over to the corner balcony to throw open the curtains and stare out the glass doors. The room had a traditional vibe to it, with neutral colored walls, but the furniture was new except for the bed frame. There was a hanging chair in the balcony and even in the room, there was an armchair on another corner with a table. Tamara could already see herself sitting there, doodling or reading. She entered the bathroom next, whistling at seeing a jacuzzi bathtub with a shower, washroom and sink taking different space altogether.

God, I'd kill for a hot bath right now.

She stared longingly at the bathtub, suddenly being reminded of her aching muscles. They'd probably understand, right? She had had a very long day travelling and all.

"Yup, hot bath it is," she mumbled, opening the cold water tap to fill the tub halfway and going out into the room to get a towel and clothes.

Few minutes later, she was in the tub, lying her head back and staring at the ceiling as she soaked in the hot water. The tiredness of the day was getting to her as her eyes started closing, sleep washing over her.

As her eyes closed fully, she started sliding down into the water and in a second or two, her face was fully submerged, water rushing into her lungs.

In her mind, she was again in the same blackness as last time, but this was more ominous. She felt her heart race in fear as she saw a man's outline in the dark, squinting to see who it was.

"Well, this is quite a show," the man boomed, making Tamara's blood run cold. She looked down to see she was naked and struggled to cover herself with her hands, falling down on her knees. Her throat was closing up, her breathing was getting heavier, her mind was getting hazier and she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe-

"Hello, darling," he said, his feet visible. When she looked up, one arm covering her breasts and other struggling to cover lower, she saw him and her heart might've just exploded with fear. She would prefer that, mission be damned. At least she wouldn't have to be humiliated this way.

Her muscles went rigid as his eyes rove over her with a hunger that disgusted her and she hated herself for being scared, hated herself for this shred of vulnerability. She should be able to fight, damn it. She shouldn't be on her knees for the man who ruined her life.

He knelt down on one knee in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek possessively. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything but stare at him with the same fearful, pleading eyes, just as she had the night she'd ran from his house. He leaned forward just a bit, but it was enough for Tamara to hold her breath and not move one muscle for their lips were almost touching.

"Did you miss me, my pretty wife?" He whispered against her lips and Tamara exhaled, taking in a shaky breath, she was reliving her past all over again, he was going to have his way with her all over again and she would be powerless to stop him all over again.

"Oh, you did, did you?" He asked with a grin, the same grin that used to be on his face when she used to scream as he beat her. Tamara knew him well enough to guess that he was furious at her for escaping and then hiding from him. "I guess I should be a little happy, hm? At least, you remember me."

In her mind, she scoffed. Could she ever forget? He would always haunt her. He existed in the whiplash scars on her back. Every time she shed her clothes, he was there in the corner of the room to leer at her.

I can never forget you, Wayne Gordon.

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Helllooooooo!!!

I'm so sorry for the late update, I had exams and stuff. I'll try to post more often but idk if I'll be able to, so please just bear with me, thanks.

Comments and votes are highly appreciated 💖💕