Draven.
His excitent was palpable now—this wasn’t just a victory to him, but a statent.
A declaration to the Council of Elders that the threat was no longer theoretical.
I raised a hand slightly.
The guard beside the jeep received the cue and unzipped the first body bag with careful precision.
A cold, chemical-preserved scent hit the air instantly—faint, but sharp. I could feel the quiet recoil in the guards behind us, though no one flinched visibly.
Inside the bag, pale skin stretched over hollowed bones and sunken eyes.
The vampire’s body was unmarred except for the puncture wound clean through the heart.
"Excellent," my father murmured. "This... this will open their eyes."
I watched him silently, noting the way his shoulders seed lighter than usual.
Bringing these corpses was more than strategic—it was personal. And he wasn’t going to waste a single mont of it.
"You’ve done well," he said suddenly, turning back toward . "And your timing is impeccable. The council ets tomorrow."
"And I plan to attend," I told him. "Every word that needs to be said—I will say it to their faces."
He grinned again. "That’s a good one."
I gave a nod to the guards. "Zip the bags. Take them to the lower cold vault. No one is to touch them without my permission."
---
The mont the body bags were secured and carried off by the guards toward the cold vault, I turned and walked with my father toward the main house.
Jeffery fell into step behind us with the silent precision of soone used to both war and courtly halls.
At the threshold of the estate, a familiar presence stepped into view—tall, clean-cut, and dressed in tailored grey.
Oscar Elrod, my oldest friend and most trusted advisor, greeted us with a warm grin that split his face in two.
"Draven," he called, voice steady as always.
"Oscar," I returned, closing the distance and embracing him in a tight, brotherly hug. "You look like the capital hasn’t chewed you up yet."
He chuckled, thumping my back. "It tried. I chewed back."
He turned to Jeffery next. "Beta."
Jeffery offered a smirk and clasped Oscar’s hand firmly. "Elrod."
I could feel the tension from the ride already starting to ease from my shoulders. In tis like these, steady hands and old loyalties were rarer than gold.
We moved through the corridors, the sound of boots against marble echoing faintly until we reached the dining hall.
The long table was already laid with roasted venison, herb butter rolls, and two bottles of honeyed wine.
The air slled of sage and seared at, grounding the mont in comfort, even if our minds were heavy.
Over dinner, I laid it all out. No flourish. No politicking.
I told them in details about the vampires’ invasion—ten entered, eight fell. I told them how the humans had placed caras in the woods to monitor the vampires, unaware of the na of the creature they hunted.
I explained how we were still hunting for the secret lab Brackham and his Senate snakes had buried sowhere in Duskmoor.
My father’s knife paused mid-cut through a slab of at. "He’s using his own people for experints?"
I nodded. "Unapologetically."
His face twisted. "Brackham’s a sneaky bastard. He always was."
Oscar’s tone was more asured. "The experints may not yield werewolves—but that doesn’t an they won’t yield sothing worse. A mistake... or a weapon."
"That’s exactly why," I said, setting down my goblet, "when we find the lab, we collect the evidence, destroy it, and start the war."
My father leaned back, smiling grimly. "Good. Burn Brackham with it."
Jeffery raised his brows. "Assuming he’s kind enough to be in the building when the flas go up."
"Then we will drag him there ourselves," I muttered. "Well, unless he suddenly goes unreachable."
The table fell into a grim silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We all understood what was coming.
The comfort of denial had long since left our kind. There was only the path forward now.
Once the table had been cleared and the wine glasses drained, I excused myself and stepped out onto the wide veranda that overlooked the training grounds.
Then I pulled out my phone and dialed redith.
Her voice ca through within seconds. "Draven?"
"I arrived a while ago," I said. "Didn’t have a chance to call right away. My father intercepted us as soon as the cars pulled up."
There was no irritation in her tone—only calm. "It’s alright. You’ve probably had a long evening."
"I did. Just finished dinner. What about you—how was your day?"
She sighed, the sound faint but unmistakably weary. "Half of it was spent reading. The other half with Xamira. She asked about you. She seed a little down when I told her you’d traveled."
My gaze drifted toward the moonlit hills beyond the wall. "Tell her I will bring her sothing from Stormveil."
"I will." A pause. "Oh, and before you ask, I didn’t train today."
I tilted my head, already grinning. "No?"
"Dennis says we start tomorrow. Twice a day. Once before breakfast, and again before dinner."
I laughed. "So, he’s serious."
"Very," she replied flatly, though I could hear the smile in her voice. "You’ve turned him into a taskmaster."
"Good," I said. "You will be stronger for it."
We stayed on the line a few monts longer. Talking. Joking.
For a while, the burdens of politics and bloodshed felt distant—like another life. But then, Oscar appeared in the archway, lifting an expectant brow.
"I need to go," I told her. "Oscar’s here."
As soon as I ntioned my best friend, I imdiately explained who he was and his role in the briefest way possible.
"Alright," she said softly. "Rest. You’ve travelled for hours."
"I will call you tomorrow."
She humd in agreent, and the line went silent.
I slid the phone into my coat pocket, took one last breath of the cool night air, and turned to face Oscar and whatever business still waited before dawn.
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