All Chapters of System Of Blood: To Crave Survival: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

CHAPTER 102Camryn's POVCommander Thorne accepted our terms with efficiency that suggested he’d expected exactly this outcome. We stood in Handler Harriet’s office again, this time with sunlight streaming through the grimy windows and making everything look slightly less ominous than it had the night before.“You’ll report directly to Handler Harriet for deployments,” Thorne said, reviewing the document Miranda had drafted. “She’ll coordinate with House representatives to identify high-priority Class C targets suitable for elimination attempts. You maintain operational autonomy in the field but provide detailed reports after each deployment.”“And the device?” I asked. “Eugene’s research?”“Remains in your custody for now. You’re the only one who can operate it, which gives you a certain amount of leverage.” Dahlia spoke from where she leaned against the wall, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. “But we’ll expect you to work with Handler technicians to document the operating

CHAPTER 104Camryn's POVThe ballroom looked like someone had taken wealth and turned it into architecture. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings painted with scenes probably House histories or mythological nonsense rich people pretended to care about. Every surface gleamed with polish that suggested an army of servants worked full-time maintaining appearances. The guests matched their surroundings perfectly, all silk and jewels and masks that cost more than most Hunters earned in a year.I felt like an imposter, which I suppose I was in more ways than one. The dress Miranda had acquired fit well enough but moved wrong on my body, restricting movement in ways I wasn’t used to. The mask covered half my face, emerald green with gold filigree that matched House Rosetti’s colors but felt like it was advertising rather than hiding me.“Relax,” Miranda murmured beside me. She looked completely at ease in formal attire, like she’d been born to navigate high society politics. Which she had,

CHAPTER 106Camryn’s POVThree weeks after the masquerade, I stood in the ruins of what used to be a textile factory in the eastern sectors, watching Whitney press her fingers to the crumbling wall.“Class C,” she said quietly. “Grief Weaver. It’s been here for at least six months.”The building had a particular smell—mildew, rust, and something sweeter underneath, like rotting flowers. The windows were boarded up, but gaps let in thin streams of light that cut through the darkness in diagonal slashes. Dust motes hung suspended in the air.Miranda adjusted her comm unit. “Handlers confirmed the perimeter is secure. We have two hours before the next patrol sweep.”Two hours. Plenty of time, if everything went according to plan.Amon moved past me, his shadows spreading across the floor in a slow tide. They pooled in the corners, testing the edges of the room. “Host is in the back. Still alive.”Still alive. That was the part that mattered now.I pulled Eugene’s device from my pack and

CHAPTER 108Camryn's POVWe were in the operations center, reviewing potential targets for our next elimination, when he walked in with a folded piece of paper and an expression I’d learned meant trouble.“I know where Reginald is,” he said.The room went quiet. Miranda paused mid-sentence in her tactical breakdown. Amon’s shadows stilled. Whitney looked up from her data slate.I set down the file I’d been reading. “Where?”“House Blue medical facility. Sub-level three, restricted access wing.” Fabian unfolded a requisition form with an official House Blue seal at the top. “One of my contacts in the procurement division pulled this. Medical supplies requisitioned for extended anomaly observation. The patient designation matches Reginald Hunter’s registration number.”I took the form, scanning the details. The supplies were standard for anomaly containment: sedatives, nutrient supplements, and neurological monitoring equipment. But the quantity suggested long-term observation, not emer

CHAPTER 110Camryn's POVThe abandoned research facility smelled like decay and old chemicals.Whitney led us through a side entrance half-hidden by overgrown vegetation, down a corridor with peeling paint and floors covered in dust thick enough to show our footprints. Emergency lighting still worked, barely casting everything in dim yellow that made the shadows look deeper than they were.“This was a House Castellan neurology research center,” Whitney explained as we moved deeper into the building. “They shut it down fifteen years ago after a contamination incident. Official records say it’s structurally unsound and scheduled for demolition, but the paperwork’s been stuck in bureaucratic limbo ever since.”“Meaning?” Miranda asked.“Meaning no one comes here. No patrols, no maintenance, no surveillance. It’s off the grid.”Good. We needed to be off the grid right now.We found a space on the third floor that looked like it had been a break room once—tables and chairs still arranged i