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The darkness remained silent and empty. “Alexei! You bastard!” I kept roaring. Kept screaming his name until my voice cracked. My throat felt like it was on fire. Each scream tore at my vocal cords. And I could taste blood in my throat, warm and metallic. It filled my mouth. I coughed violently. Blood splattered from my lips onto my chest and trousers. The dark stains spread across the fabric as an evidence of my desperation. But I didn't stop. I needed to get out of this shit and save Irina. I needed to see that son of a bitch and put a bullet in his fucking head this time!

Same positioning, same throat wound, same symbols drawn in blood. But this time, the note read: "Blood for blood. The cycle continues." Sera stared at the photos, her hands trembling, bile rising in her throat. "Someone's playing both sides. Making it look like vampires and witches are attacking each other." "Or both sides are attacking," Elara said from behind them. She'd accompanied them to the palace library, where they were reviewing the evidence. "Convenient that you have an explanation that absolves your people." "My people didn't do this."

I yanked out the blade and thick, black blood spurted out like a fountain of death. Silver. Poetic justice, huh, Andy?

Chapter 1: Blood Debt The warehouse smelled like rust and death. Luca Rossi stood over the body, chest rising slow and steady, the only sound in the sudden silence. Marco Vitale’s eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, vacant now, blood pooling dark and thick beneath his head. One clean shot—center mass—then two more to be sure. Message delivered. Luca wiped his hands on a rag one of his men handed him, though the blood had already dried under his nails. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

You have been abiding too long with ghosts. "Humour me," I said calmly. "Before my patience runs out." He examined me at the edge of his glass. "You're asking about old money. Blood money. Before you were ready to rule." "And yet it still moves," I said. "Quietly." Vittorio leaned back. Dino, everything old is still breathing. You are the one who should know that, of all people. I leaned forward slightly. "Was it yours?" His smile was broad and very gradual. "Why ask me?"

“Miles, it’s me, call me back please just call me back and tell me what’s going on.” I hang up and stare at the screen, willing it to light up with his name, with some explanation for that text. Another message comes through instead. ‘Don’t call. Just send money. $500. Please.’ The ice bag slips off my knee and hits the floor but I don’t pick it up. Five hundred dollars. I don’t have five hundred dollars, not right now, not with everything else I’m paying for, and even if I did I know exactly what he needs it for and it’s not something I can enable.

The thick, dark primordial blood of a century-old vampire welled from the deep cut. "Drink, Brynn," Riheirk commanded, his voice raw and desperate as he pressed his bleeding wrist firmly against her lips. "Drink from me. Let my blood purge the poison. Accept it, sweetheart, please." Brynn’s jade eyes flickered. Driven by her own fading strength and the desperate, triumphant internal screaming of Solar, her jaw parted. She bit down lightly on his wrist, her lips drawing the heavy, white-hot furnace of his primordial blood into her system.

How is it possible that I can taste the blood in my mouth, in my throat, in the air? Who's blood is it? My blood, it's me. I'm shot.

The liquid is red—blood, and what I stumbled upon is a body. I let out a scream of horror as I crawl away from the scene. ##########