Carson“I feel like a coward, Father,” I said, the words cracking as tears slid down my cheek. The weight of it all—powerlessness, rejection, fate—sank deep into my bones.My father stepped closer.“You’re not a coward, son,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “Your opponent is a god. No one wins against that. Even the Strigoi are silent about Phi Umbra. They know exactly what they’re up against.”He placed a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.“If anything, you tried. You stood your ground. You showed you had the spine to face someone no one else would even speak against.”I looked around us—at the shattered courtyard, the broken bodies, the silence that followed our defeat.“They’ll hate me,” I said, thinking of the people of Blackgate. “I failed them.”“No,” he said. “They fought for you because they believed in you. Willingly. They tried to help you hold onto your Luna.”He paused.“But let’s be honest, Carson. Natalie doesn’t want you. If she had shown the slightest preference, eve
CarsonHe took her.Just like that—he left with her in his arms, and I was too broken to give chase.I stood there, outside the house, in the wreckage of my pride. My men were battered and bleeding, and for what? I looked at them—at the pain on their faces—and knew I had gone too far.They hadn’t needed to bleed for me.Even in the thick of the fight, I knew—he was holding back. Adrian Balshov could have killed every one of us. But he didn’t. He spared us. That made it worse.And the way he linked me…No Strigoi—no vampire, period—had ever managed that. My mind was my own. But his voice had come through with terrifying clarity.Cold. Commanding.Unstoppable.He wasn’t like the others. And now I understood why even the elders spoke his name with caution.Why would fate do something so cruel? Why would it tie me to the one woman Adrian Balshov wanted?I didn’t need anyone to tell me the truth—I saw it in her eyes.Whatever bond I had with Natalie, it meant nothing the moment Adrian ente
Dimitri“I just want to help with the tribute,” Martina said, her voice smaller now, cornered.I stared at her.“Did I ask for your help?” I said flatly. “Don’t lie to me, Martina.”Her expression tightened, but I didn’t stop.“You wanted to hurt Balshov. You wanted to turn the woman fate tied to him. Strip him of the one thing even time and war hadn’t taken. Maybe make her your puppet. Or worse. I don’t know what twisted fantasy lives in your head—but what I do know is this: you would’ve started a war.”My voice dropped into something colder.“One we wouldn’t survive. Not long enough to wake Volodymir. Not long enough to beg.”She looked away, but I could see her jaw flexing.“I want you to keep your hands off Natalie Pierce. Completely. No watching, no manipulating, no backdoor politics.”Her eyes snapped back to mine.“Besides,” I continued, “her father left a parchment—binding. Ensuring she’s untouchable. If we pursue her further, we invite destruction. Not just from Balshov or th
DimitriTears stung my eyes as I left.I’d thought becoming a Strigoi would strip all that away—no more tears, no more feelings. But I was wrong. The emotions were sharper now, unfiltered, deeper than anything I’d felt as a human.There was no dulling the ache.Nothing ever dulled it.I got into my car and drove, Alexei’s words echoing in my head like ghosts I couldn’t shake. Maybe I should’ve followed him, back then. Maybe I should’ve stood by his side when it mattered.But would I have survived the war?I didn’t know.When I returned to the house, I found Lancly and Martina in the lounging chamber. She had a goblet in her hand, lounging like royalty. So did he—playing host, keeping her occupied, waiting for me.The moment she saw me, her posture shifted. The smugness slipped for half a second. She knew.She knew what she’d done.“I see your need to join your mate is so overwhelming,” I said, voice like glass under pressure, “that you were stupid enough to piss off Adrian last night.
DimitriAlexei would have let me grow old.But when the plague came and took me, when I lay on the edge of death, begging him not to let me go, he turned me. It broke something in him, I think. I wasn’t just a human in his care. I was his son.He gave me eternity.For a while, our lives were simple. Good.Until Margaret.He fell in love. Mated. And from that bond, Adrian was born.I didn’t leave. I remained part of their family, loyal, trusted. But when Volodymir issued the kill order on Adrian—declaring him an abomination—Alexei defied him.And I didn’t.Maybe I should’ve gone with him then. Maybe I should’ve stood beside the man who raised me. But Volodymir was a god in those days. Absolute. And I didn’t know better.I chose survival.And in doing so, I chose wrong.Nothing’s been the same since.Alexei held a chalice in his hand, the dark liquid catching the light. He looked at me.“Care for a drink?” he asked.I shook my head. This wasn’t the time for pleasantries.“I’m here to as
DimitriI didn’t sleep that day.I lay still, eyes open, mind turning over the same fear again and again—Adrian could show up at any moment and eraseus. Incinerate the mansion. End everything.I’d tried reaching him.All day. No response.The silence spoke louder than any threat.I knew what I had to do, even if it made my skin crawl—I’d have to ask Lord Alexei to speak to Adrian on my behalf. Plead.The irony wasn’t lost on me.It wasn’t long ago Alexei had come to me, asking that I leave Natalie Pierce alone. I’d refused, of course. Arrogantly. I’d dismissed him as sentimental and soft. Why would he help me now?But the moment the sun dipped below the horizon, I sent for Lancly and made my intentions clear.He offered to come with me. I declined.Someone needed to stay behind—to watch Martina. We hadn’t confronted her yet, but Lancly’s presence was enough to keep her from causing more damage. For now.One thing was certain: waking Volodymir wasn’t an option anymore.We were at Adria