Chapter 4: Whispers of Betrayal

"Yes, your blood!" Tiago exclaimed, his voice sending shivers down Mariana's spine. The weight of his words settled heavily on her. Blood? How could her blood possibly save his mother? A million questions swirled in her mind, each one more terrifying than the last. Tiago, sensing her apprehension, explained further. " It's a… process. A monthly ritual where you'll provide a specific amount of blood enough to nourish my mother, Anya, until she's strong enough." “Monthly?” she asked, her face filled with dread. Tiago's eyes, however, held a steely glint. "This," he said, his voice cold, "is what you signed up for in the contract. Non-negotiable! This is why I married you." He seemed even colder than ever. “I’m doing this for you mum.” She muttered inaudibly, as she understood the gravity of the relationship she had gotten into. Feeling trapped, she finally asked, her voice barely a whisper, "Why me? Why my blood?” A heavy silence descended upon the room. She clutched the thin sheets around her, her knuckles white. "Your blood… it's different.” Tiago finally said, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “An anomaly. A genetic mutation that occurs only once in a hundred years, perhaps even less. We've been searching for a carrier for years, someone with the exact genetic makeup to act as a bridge." He paused, his gaze intense. "Then I saw you, that day at the bar. There was something… a pull, a connection I couldn't explain. A sense, deep down, that you were the one." Her jaw clenched tight. A cocktail of emotions – anger, sadness, and a suffocating dread – churned in her stomach. This marriage, this contract, it had all been a carefully orchestrated plan, and she was nothing more than a pawn in his game. "My mother's condition," Tiago continued, his voice laced with desperation, "it requires a constant stream of your blood to sustain her. A monthly ritual, as I mentioned." He walked into the cave and emerged with an ornately carved silver ring. In the centre, a smooth, polished opal shimmered faintly. "The blood will be drawn here," he explained, pointing to a barely perceptible indentation on the ring's surface. "The ring will then be worn as a pendant around my mother's neck, creating a… connection. A final prick, here," he gestured to her temple, "will complete the link, binding you to the ring and, in essence, to her." Mariana stared at the ring. She felt trapped, a prisoner of circumstance and a strange genetic anomaly. But as the enormity of the situation sunk in, a quiet determination sparked within her. There was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, she met Tiago's gaze. The fear hadn't vanished, but it was laced with a newfound resolve. "And when will this ritual begin?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you strong enough for this now?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. Mariana met his gaze, a flicker of defiance replacing the initial fear. "Yes," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. Taking a deep breath, she pushed back the covers and stood on shaky legs. Together, they walked towards the cavern entrance. A hush fell over the gathered crowd as they emerged – wolves and humans alike, their eyes fixed on the couple. Mariana felt the weight of their stares, as they came down the stairs. The air in the cave was cool and damp, carrying the chilly scent of ice walls. As they descended the winding staircase, the low hum of anticipation grew louder. Finally, they reached the bottom, and walked towards the massive stone coffin bathed in an ethereal glow. Tiago stopped beside the coffin, his expression unreadable. He turned to Mariana, a curt nod the only indication for her to proceed. With a deep breath, she walked towards the old man, the one Tiago had struck earlier. The old man, his face etched with apology, bowed his head slightly. "Forgive my earlier transgression, milady. What needs to be done, I shall do." Mariana nodded curtly, her hand trembling slightly. The ritual was about to begin. The old man began chanting in a language that sounded ancient and powerful. His voice resonated through the cavern, sending shivers down Mariana's spine. With practiced ease, he then produced a small, sharp blade. "A slight pinch now, milady," he said gently. Before Mariana could react, the blade pricked her palm. A bead of crimson welled up on the surface of her skin, then another, and another. The metallic tang of blood filled her senses as it dripped slowly onto the ring Tiago had shown her earlier. A low, mournful howl erupted from one of the wolves, a sound that quickly spread through the pack. Mariana felt a wave of nausea wash over her, the sight of her own blood mixing with the cool metal unsettling her stomach. The old man continued his chanting, his voice rising in intensity. He then carefully placed the ring, now stained crimson, onto a necklace chain. With reverence, he lifted the chain and draped it around Anya's pale neck. The moment the pendant touched her skin, a faint shimmer emanated from the opal gemstone. The final act of the ritual. The old man took a needle, impossibly thin and sharp, and gestured towards Mariana's temple. She held her breath as he gently pricked the surface of her skin. He also did the same to Anya’s temple. A jolt of energy surged through her, a connection forming between her and the ring, and by extension, Anya. The pendant around Anya's neck pulsed with a soft, white light, accompanied by a low humming sound. The wolves howled in unison, a sound that echoed through the cavern, both mournful and celebratory. Murmurs rippled through the crowd of humans, their faces a mixture of awe and relief. Mariana swayed slightly, drained from the ordeal. Tiago, ever vigilant, materialized at her side, steadying her from behind. The old man finished the final chant, his voice trailing off into an echoing hum. He stood silently for a moment, gazing intently into the depths of the coffin. A tense silence filled the cavern as everyone waited with bated breath. Finally, the old man turned, his face etched with relief. "It is done, Master." he boomed, his voice echoing through the cavern. "The ritual is complete. The matriarch will soon recover her strength." A joyous eruption filled the air. Cheers and howls erupted from the wolves and humans, a sound both celebratory and primal. Then, in a surprising display of reverence, the entire crowd bowed their heads towards Mariana. Mariana stood frozen and flustered. She wasn't sure how to react. Tiago, sensing her unease, leaned in close, his voice a low murmur in her ear. "They value loyalty above all else," he explained. "You have saved their leader. They are grateful." The old man approached Mariana, a steaming bowl held carefully in his hands. "For your courage, milady," he said, "we offer you this restorative stew. It will help you regain your strength." Mariana took the bowl hesitantly. The rich aroma of herbs filled her senses, and her stomach rumbled in response as she drank. Exhaustion washed over her with each sip. Her eyelids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she slumped into Tiago’s arm, surrendering to a deep sleep. Sunlight pierced through a heavy velvet curtain, rousing Mariana from her slumber. She blinked open her eyes, and found herself in a room where luxurious fabrics draped the furniture, and sunlight streamed through a large ornately framed window. It was Tiago's room. He stood beside the bed, a small vial filled with a clear liquid held between his fingers. "Drink this," he commanded. Mariana sat up slowly, the events of the previous night flooding back to her. She took the vial cautiously, the bitter taste of the tonic coating her tongue. As she finished, Kyle, Tiago’s assistant, entered the room, dressed impeccably in a black suit. "Everything is prepared, sir," he announced, bowing slightly towards Mariana. "Get ready," Tiago instructed her, already heading towards the door. Mariana scrambled out of bed, a wave of apprehension washing over her. "Where are we going?" she asked. Tiago ignored her as usual. The car ride was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Mariana stole glances at Tiago, his profile stoic and unreadable. Finally, they pulled up in front of a large, imposing building – a hospital. "We're here," Tiago announced. He led her through the sterile corridors, his long strides forcing her to quicken her pace to keep up. They stopped outside a brightly lit ward, where a woman lay pale and still in a hospital bed. He then gestured towards the bed. A wave of emotions washed over Mariana. It was her mother. A doctor in a white coat approached them, his expression a mix of hope and caution. "The operation was a success," he explained, "but she hasn't regained consciousness yet. We're monitoring her closely." Mariana felt a lump form in her throat. She sank onto the chair beside the bed, taking her mother's frail hand in hers. "Mom? Mom, can you hear me?"