Before Her Heart Was Taken

"Hector, you—" Charlotte started.

He turned and raised a hand to shut her up. She bit her lip, fuming, but stayed quiet.

Tiffany couldn't even process their tension. All she felt was the light brush of his finger on her collarbone.

A soft whimper slipped out as she leaned up, instinctively chasing his touch. Her skin burned for contact.

"Hector, please... just hold me. That's all."

Like some desperate stray, she clung to him, shameless and shaking.

Somewhere inside, she screamed at herself to stop. But her body didn't listen.

"You really want it that bad?" Hector smirked.

His fingers drifted lower, undoing her buttons one by one. "No one's around. Strip down, and maybe I'll give you that hug you're begging for."

Tiffany jolted, the haze snapping.

Charlotte couldn't take it. "Hector!" she shouted.

He didn't flinch. Just knelt there, staring down at Tiffany.

"I've never been the patient type," he said. "And looks like you're falling apart too."

That sick bastard.

He'd done this before—used her skin hunger to break her down, make her beg like some toy, humiliate her in front of Charlotte, strip her dignity inch by inch.

The need came rushing back, worse than ever.

Tiffany watched, helpless, as her own fingers started unbuttoning her blouse.

Her body didn't feel like hers anymore.

"No! I can't—!"

"Can't?" Hector's lip curled. "Your body says otherwise."

A sharp, burning hatred surged in her chest. She hated how weak she felt—hated his twisted control even more.

"I'm not letting you humiliate me again!"

She bit down hard on her tongue, sharp enough to make herself flinch.

Blood filled her mouth. She wiped it off, pushed to her feet.

Then, to the sound of Charlotte's scream, she bolted—and threw herself into the icy pool outside.

The freezing water hit like a slap, killing every last flicker of want.

Tiffany couldn't swim.

She didn't fight it—just let the water drag her under.

Somewhere, faint through her left ear, she heard Hector shouting her name.

A splash. Something—or someone—hit the water after her.

"Tiffany!"

The voice got closer.

But she was already slipping.

Too tired.

Before she could open her eyes, everything went black.

***

When Tiffany came to, she was in a hospital.

No Charlotte. No Hector.

Just the beep of machines and a nurse standing over her.

"Miss, you can't be this reckless," the nurse scolded. "You're severely malnourished. If the rescue had been even a little later, you wouldn't have made it out of that water."

"How long was I out?"

"A full day and night."

Her heart thudded.

Only five days left until the teaching trip. And her visa? Still not done.

No guards this time. The second the nurse left, Tiffany ripped out the IV and slipped away.

The mansion was empty.

She found the documents in her room, grabbed them, and ran straight to campus.

"You made it just in time," her advisor said. "Another hour and you'd've missed it. The director's been on my case. I even called your brother to check on you."

Tiffany froze.

"You... told my brother?"