LOGINHer name was Mira.She had been nine years old since 1721.I found her in a private room off the main ward—smaller than the others, quieter. The machines that surrounded her were older, the tubes more numerous. She sat in a chair by the window, wrapped in blankets that couldn't warm a body that had stopped generating heat three centuries ago."You're the silver wolf," she said.Her voice was thin. Papery. The sound of something that had been stretched too far for too long."I'm Aggie.""I know." A ghost of a smile. "I've read about you. Viktor brought the reports."I sat down across from her.Up close, she looked worse than I had expected. Her skin was translucent, showing the network of veins beneath. Her eyes were too large for her face, hollowed out by centuries of slow deterioration.She couldn't have weighed sixty pounds."You read the reports," I said."I read everything." Mira shifted in her chair, the movement costing her visible effort. "French. Latin. German. Russian. Italia
Brian moved for Casimir's throat.Four hundred years of restraint dissolved in a single moment. I felt the rage surge through the bond—volcanic, absolute, the fury of an Alpha whose brother had been named as a sacrifice.His hand closed on empty air.Because my fingers had wrapped around his wrist first.The chamber went silent.Every vampire. Every wolf. Every creature in that vast glass room watched the Luna of Blackwood hold her Alpha in place with a grip that should not have been strong enough to stop him."Don't," I whispered.Brian's eyes met mine.Wild. Desperate. The eyes of a man watching his family torn apart."He's my brother.""I know.""They can't—""They can." My voice was steady. "And if you touch Casimir, they will. The Accord ends. The intelligence network collapses. Six hundred wolves die."Through the bond, I felt him breaking.The chamber remained frozen.Casimir's smile had faltered when Brian lunged. Now it returned, colder than before."The Alpha's mate restrain
I signed at dawn.The pen felt heavier than it should have. The ink darker. My name looked foreign on the page—Agatha Abbot, Luna of Blackwood, witness to an agreement that had been running for two hundred and forty years.One signature.Six hundred lives saved.And my soul permanently bound to something I couldn't undo.I set down the pen.The Court official who had brought the document—a vampire with no expression and eyes like polished stone—retrieved it without comment. Sealed it in a case of black leather. Walked out.The door closed behind him.And I sat alone with what I had become.Brian was waiting in the corridor.I felt him before I saw him—his presence thrumming through the bond like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. He was leaning against the wall opposite my door, his face gray, his clothes still bearing traces of the ambush that had nearly killed him.He didn't gloat.Didn't thank me.Didn't say a word.He just stood there, unable to meet my eyes, radiating self-hatr
I opened the box at 3 a.m.The documents were organized with the precision of someone who had been keeping records for centuries. Folders labeled by decade. Files sorted by category. A complete history of everything Brian Abbot had done since 1624, preserved in ink and paper and careful notation.I started with the standing clause.Viktor had mentioned it—the provision that would make me Court property if Brian died without an heir. But that wasn't what the first document contained.The first document was a supply agreement.Dated 1784.Renewed every twenty years since.I read the terms three times before I understood what I was seeing.The Abbot pack provided blood to the Vampire Court.Not raided. Not taken by force.Sourced.I flipped to the next page.A donor ledger. Real names. Real consent forms. Real payments—substantial ones, running four decades for some individuals. Wolves who had agreed to provide blood to vampires in exchange for compensation, protection, medical care.Six
I didn't open the box.I sat in my quarters for three hours, staring at it. The weight of three centuries of secrets pressed against my chest. Every truth Brian had hidden. Every lie he had told. Every piece of his history that would finally make sense.All I had to do was lift the lid.But something stopped me.Not loyalty. Not love. Something harder to name.The knowledge that once I read those documents, I couldn't unread them. That the choice to know was a choice to be changed. That Ilona had offered me exactly what I wanted—and that was reason enough to be suspicious.A knock at the door.I didn't move."Argentum." Viktor's voice. "May I enter?"He looked different here.In the compound, under the blood moon, Viktor had been a threat. A grieving brother demanding justice. A vampire prince with leverage and rage.Here, in his own territory, he was something else.Comfortable. Unhurried. The kind of predator who didn't need to prove himself because everyone already knew what he was
The Withering had a name.Ilona said it like she was speaking of an old enemy—something she had fought for decades and was finally losing to."It began sixty years ago," she said. "The newly-made were the first to show symptoms. Unable to hold what blood gave them. Fading within months of their turning.""Fading?""Losing cohesion." Ilona returned to her throne, each step costing her visible effort. "The blood that sustains us requires something to anchor it. Without that anchor, we dissolve. Slowly. Painfully. Like ice in warming water."I watched her settle into her seat."And now it's spreading.""To the older generations. Yes." Her voice was hollow. "The ones who have lived centuries are beginning to feel it. The weakness. The tremors. The sense that something essential is leaking away.""You're one of them.""I am the oldest." A ghost of a smile. "And therefore the most visible example of what awaits us all."I paced the chamber.The portraits stared down at me—centuries of Sover







