PORTRAITS OF THE UNDYING

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Isabella and Damien found themselves sitting at a small table in the hotel's dining room. The early morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a golden hue across the wooden floors. They were alone, the quiet of the morning interrupted only by the clink of silverware and the occasional murmur of a distant guest.

Isabella took a sip of her coffee, staring at the newspaper spread out in front of her. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around all these paintings," she said, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the paper. "Some of them... they feel like they're calling to me."

Damien's gaze never left her face as she spoke. He had always been there for her—through thick and thin, a constant presence in her life. But as they sat there, chatting casually about art and life, something inside him stirred, a feeling he couldn't quite name. He had always been the one to listen, to support her, but deep down, there was always something more he felt for her. He had never been able to confess it, never found the right moment. Isabella had always seen him as a friend, someone who had been by her side for years. But for him, it was different. It had always been different.

Damien's eyes lingered on her face, memorizing the way the sunlight danced in her hair and how the soft curve of her lips tilted slightly as she spoke. The attraction was undeniable, but it wasn't just physical. It was something deeper, something that tied him to her in ways he couldn't yet understand.

He blinked, his thoughts interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He glanced at the screen—an unknown number. His brow furrowed, and he excused himself before answering the call.

The voice on the other end was low and urgent, "Damien, it's time. You need to find her before it's too late. The Dracula is near. You must protect her."

He stiffened. "I'm on it. But what do you mean by 'protect her'?"

There was a pause before the voice replied. "The girl—she's in danger. The one you've been searching for. She's right in front of you, but you don't remember her yet. Stay close to her. We'll explain everything soon."

Damien's heart pounded in his chest. The mention of Dracula, of protection, and the cryptic words about the girl left him unsettled. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had a job to do.

"Damien?" Isabella's voice broke through his thoughts as he turned back to the table. "Is everything okay?"

He gave her a strained smile. "Yeah, just work stuff. I have to leave for a bit. But I'll catch up with you later."

Isabella nodded, though she could sense something was off. As Damien stood and left, Isabella felt an uneasy twist in her stomach. There was something strange about his behavior today, but she couldn't place it.

---

Later that afternoon, Isabella and Lily were walking through the charming streets of Valhalla, the quaint shops and cafes lined up along the cobblestone roads. The air was crisp, and the town was beginning to bustle with the energy of another day. Lily, ever the optimist, was chatting excitedly about their plans for the rest of the day, but Isabella's mind was elsewhere. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The pull she had felt toward the paintings, the strange memories—everything was starting to feel like it was all connected, but to what?

Suddenly, a sleek black car screeched to a halt in front of them, nearly making Lily jump out of her skin.

The window rolled down, revealing none other than Viktor D'Angelo. He gave them both a polite but cool smile. "Ms. Drew," he said smoothly, his voice as calm as ever. "I have the contract here, and I'm afraid we need to go to the castle to proceed with the restoration."

Isabella froze, her stomach tightening. She had forgotten about the fine print in the contract—the clause that obligated her to go to his castle for the work. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and her pulse quickened.

"I—Viktor, I didn't—" Isabella began, but Viktor interrupted her, his expression unreadable.

"You don't have a choice," he said. "We'll collect the paintings and be on our way."

Before she could respond, Lily stepped forward. "Wait, are you seriously taking us to some castle? Are we supposed to just drop everything and follow you?"

Viktor didn't seem fazed by Lily's protest. "That's exactly what I'm asking you to do."

Isabella glanced at Lily, who gave her a questioning look. She felt a deep hesitation, but there was little choice. They had to go.

---

The drive to Viktor's castle was unsettling. As they made their way deeper into the forest, the roads grew narrower, and the trees seemed to grow closer together, casting eerie shadows over the car. The silence inside the vehicle was thick, only broken by the occasional rustle of the trees or the hum of the engine. Viktor's presence in the car was as cold and distant as ever, and Isabella couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the sound of glass shattering. Isabella's heart leapt in her chest as she looked to the side, seeing a group of kids in the distance. They had been playing a game with a ball, and it had ricocheted off the side of the car, breaking the window.

Viktor slammed on the brakes, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. Isabella flinched at the sudden movement, but what caught her attention was Viktor's reaction. His eyes—his pupils—were no longer the calm, dark brown she had seen before. They were now an unnatural shade of red, glowing in the dim light of the forest. His face twisted into an expression of pure fury.

Isabella's heart raced as she recoiled in fear. She had never seen him this angry before. The air around them seemed to grow colder, charged with an energy she couldn't explain. The tension between them was palpable, and for a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake by agreeing to come here.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Viktor growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Before she could react, another car pulled up beside them, and Lily rushed out, visibly shaken. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Viktor's gaze snapped to Lily, and the anger in his eyes slowly subsided. "We need to move," he said through gritted teeth, "before something worse happens."

Isabella's mind was racing as they continued down the winding road, the forest growing darker and more oppressive with each passing moment. As they approached the castle, Isabella couldn't help but feel the weight of Viktor's presence beside her. She had no idea what to expect at the castle, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to step into something much larger than they could understand.

---

Meanwhile, Damien had returned to the hotel, his mind still reeling from the phone call he had received earlier. Something was wrong, and the deeper he dug into his past, the more he realized that Isabella was somehow at the center of it all.

When he heard that Viktor had taken her and Lily to the castle, something snapped inside him. His heart raced as he stormed toward the hotel's parking lot, his fists clenched at his sides. He wasn't going to let this go.

By the time Damien arrived at the castle, he was furious. He didn't know why, but he felt protective of Isabella in a way that made no sense. Viktor stood by the entrance, looking calm as ever, but Damien couldn't hold back.

He marched up to Viktor, grabbing the front of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing, taking them here?" Damien's voice was filled with anger, his grip tightening around Viktor's collar.

Isabella appeared behind them, her eyes wide in shock. "Damien, stop!" she shouted, stepping forward. "You can't fight him."

Damien froze at the sound of her voice, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. The protective instinct that had driven him to the castle faltered, and he let go of Viktor, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.

"I'm not going to let you get hurt," Damien said, his voice softer now, but still full of concern.

Isabella looked between the two men, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. "We need to figure out what's going on here," she said, her voice steady. "All of us."

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