“There still have been no sightings of Lorenzo or Moab?” Cyrus demands again as he slings his sword around his waist.

“No, your majesty,” the spy admits. “We have our suspicions that they are staked out in the inn, but if they’ve come out, they’ve been disguised, or simply lost in the crowd.”

“They’ve obviously come out,” Cyrus seethes as he helps me cinch the vest around myself. It’s filled with weapons. “The man was caught on video.”

“My deepest apologies, my grace,” the spy says, bowing his head. I can see from the fear in his eyes, he expects to be beheaded or something worse.

But Cyrus cannot afford to lose his temper and punish those who are trying to assist him right now. This is a new game, one I know he doesn’t like playing, where he needs to stay in their favor, too.

“It would explain why all of this is so disorganized and chaotic,” I say when Cyrus finishes strapping me in. I slip a stake into one of the pockets, along with a knife. “They have to know that we’re looking to take both of them out, so of course they’re hiding. But it’s hard to manage their people and organize a war when they’re in hiding.”

Cyrus nods in agreement. “How well armed are they?”

“They’ve been making stakes,” the spy says as Cyrus and I continue to arm ourselves. “They’ve sent others out to secure weapons, but we’ve taken every one of their runners out, so far.”

“And how many has that been?” I ask as I slip another knife in my boot.

“Eleven, my Queen,” he informs. “But those who have arrived, who seem to be allied with Moab, they arrived fully armed.”

“We need to take out the airport,” I say as I clip two grenades to my belt. “We can’t afford to let their numbers grow any larger and they’re coming in through that airport. I know they’ll find another way, but at least we can slow them down.”

The spy nods. “I will take care of it.”

The only way we can truly make the airport unusable, is to make it so no one can land on the airstrip.

Explosions are in order.

Noise will be made.

The exposure will widen.

“We will be on the march in thirty minutes,” Cyrus says, finished arming himself. “On my mark, I want every sniper we have to fire. I want what little element of surprise we have.”

“Yes, your majesty,” the spy says, taking a deep bow, and dismissing himself from the armory.

I turn to Cyrus, trying to read the expression on his face. He seems tired, but also…resolved. Prepared.

I remember that look on his face from over a thousand years ago. When we fought very nearly this same war.

“This won’t be resolved tonight,” I say. “Or tomorrow.”

Cyrus reaches for me, wrapping me in his arms. I tuck my head under his chin. “No,” he confirms. “It won’t. But we will fight it. However long it takes.”

“We need to focus on finding Moab and Lorenzo,” I say. “If we can cut the legs of this war off, maybe we can end it quicker without so many lives lost.”

Cyrus doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I feel him physically grow harder.

“Every bit of this must be ended,” Cyrus says, still holding me close. “If we do not want history to repeat itself over and over and over again, we must end every bit of this.”

The words make my stomach sink, make me feel sick. Because what he’s saying is that every one of them going against us must be killed. They all must die.

I can hardly breathe at the thought. So many lives lost. So much contention and hate. Everyone in this war wants something different, and I’m starting to find it difficult to tell who is right and who is wrong.

“It is time,” I say. Because it’s all I can do. Walk up to this, and face it nose to nose. I step away from the embrace of my fiancé, my husband, depending on who I am at the moment. I turn, and walk down the hall toward the castle gates.

We don’t have enough numbers. We really don’t.

We have 380 here now with all of the Royals who have arrived from around the world.

We’re leaving forty of them here to defend the castle.

We are 340 going up against 498.

Shit.

There are already dozens standing at the gates of the castle when Cyrus and I arrive. They’re quiet, reflective. I see determined expressions on their faces. I see death. I see wrath.

I walk out the gates, standing in the street. My eyes go to the mouth of the canyon.

There is no longer any trace of the human army. They’re long gone. Our gatekeepers have left, and now nothing stands in the way of Lorenzo and Moab.

They’re still waiting. Still gathering.

I hear footsteps gathering behind us. I hear mutters of encouragement. Mutters of disdain. They talk of politics and friends gathered and still missing.

But my eyes remain fixed on that canyon and the road I know is there, leading to a hoard who has already shifted our landscape.

“Tonight marks the beginning of a change,” I say. Not loudly. I’m mostly talking to myself. But I know the others hear me when they instantly fall quiet. “Our immortal world has remained unchanged for thousands of years. But tonight, this is the beginning of a new world.”

I turn, looking back at them. They’re all gathered now. They watch me expectantly. Ready.

“If we come out victorious or if we fall tonight or in a month, I am by your side,” I say. “And I thank you for being by my side.”

I see some of them place their fists over their hearts.

We are family here.

Through blood.

Through cause.

“For the future of peace!” Cyrus suddenly bellows, raising his sword into the air.

And as one, every single vampire sets through town, and toward that canyon.

Everything is a blur as we dart, too fast to see clearly. The town is instantly gone. And we’re rounding the lake.

Cyrus raises his radio to his lips, calling to our spies. Just as we dart into the mouth of the canyon, Cyrus makes the call.

“Now!”

We’re moving at lightning speeds. And just as I make out the crowd in the village, I hear the sky rip apart with the sounds of gunfire.

Bodies stagger back. Men and women drop to the ground.

Shot after shot is fired.

And then the Royals collide with the horde, and the guns stop.

And the night is filled with the sound of clanging metal and screams.

I swing a sword as I rush toward a man. I slice up, cutting him open from naval to chin, spilling his guts. I spin just a second later, lopping the head off of a woman with the same colored eyes as my own.

To my side, I see Cyrus, a tornado of blades and brilliantly red eyes. He causes havoc and sends blood spraying in all directions.

The line, the division between the two sides begins to bleed together. Our people push and surge their way through the line. The horde fights back, pushing their way into our ranks.

More of them are armed than I expected. I thought we would be met with stakes against swords. But many of them are armed with swords or shotguns or rifles. Shots ring out into the night.

But there, finally, I hear the sound I was waiting to hear.

An explosion. Dust rises into the air, and sirens sound for just a few moments before being silenced.

We’ve taken out the airport.

There will be no more Born arriving tonight.

A scream rips from my lungs as I turn, swinging my sword at another young man with yellow-green eyes.

“Do not fight us, sister!” he calls to me as he swings his own sword, fighting only in defense. “Join us in a new world. Do not fade away with the old one!”

“How many innocents will die in this new world?” I bellow, striking at him with blow after blow. “How much blood will be shed?”

He spins, parrying my shot. And I don’t quite jump out of the way quick enough. The tip of his sword grazes my left shoulder, splitting the skin, nicking muscle.

With a grunt, I dart forward, kicking my foot in to the center of his chest. He falls backward, hitting the ground, hard. Raising my sword, I bury it in his chest, sinking deep into his heart.

To my side, I see Edmond dart forward, lopping off the head of a woman charging toward me. I nod my head to him in thanks when he looks back at me for a brief moment.

Turning, I search for my next target, and freeze for a moment in fear.

It isn’t easy to tell who is the enemy and who is on our side. We all look the same. Are dressed similarly.

The only clear indicator is the eyes of my half-siblings.

I have no way to tell now if the others are Born or Royal.

There, sneaking up on a member of the House of Ng, I see one of my half-siblings. I drop into a slight crouch before launching myself into the air, raising my sword. On my descent, I swing it down.

It connects with the top of her head and keeps sliding down. Through her. Down through her skull. Down through her torso. Down between her legs.

She collapses to the ground, the two separate pieces of her landing with a wet slopping sound.

Find Lorenzo. Find Moab.

Those four words rattle through the back of my brain. These are the priorities. This is our main goal.

I shove my way through the crowd. The spies suspect they’re hiding out at the inn. I have to get there.

I slash and slice my way through the crowd, and hear Cyrus fighting to get to my side. But he grows farther away.

I’ve just cut the sword arm off of one of Lorenzo’s children when the sound pricks in my ears. A rush of air. The chopping of blades. I whack down another enemy, turning to search for the source of the sound.

Suddenly, in a blaze of blinding light, a helicopter circles into view. I hold up a hand, blocking out the blinding floodlight.

I look straight up into a camera.

Huge and commercial, it aims at me clearly. Only a moment later, it pans out over the crowd.

It could be broadcasting live.

I turn to look and see what viewers might be witnessing, right now.

Hundreds of bodies. Numbering over eight hundred. They swing at one another with swords—primitive and gleaming. There are gunshots being fired. There are individuals fighting, ripping one another limb from limb with bare hands.

There are fangs everywhere.

Most eyes are lit brilliant red.

It’s a brawl, fought with inhuman strength.

And that camera is recording it all.

The battle has stilled for a moment, everyone in shock at the sight of the helicopter, hovering just twenty feet over the ground. They’re temporarily blinded by the floodlight.

And then one vampire launches at the helicopter. Tossed into the air by others, a member of Court, catches hold of the feet of the chopper. And then there’s another. Not wasting a second, they climb into the cockpit.

It tilts dangerously to the right, and launches to the side, toward the airport.

I smile. One tiny victory. We need that.

Even if the damage has already been done and it’s too late to recover.

Five seconds later, the helicopter crashes.

I turn to return to the battle, when an iron cuff clamps down over my right wrist, knocking my sword from my hand. In the same moment, something dark and flexible is pulled over my head, and cinched tight around my neck.

In my moment of surprise, taken off guard, my other wrist is wrenched behind my back, and another cuff snaps around my left wrist.

My assailants don’t hesitate a second. They knock me off my feet, and drag me off.

I scream.

I yell.

I make death threats.

I sling every curse word I know.

But there are four of them dragging me away, containing me.

“Cyrus will have every one of your entrails spread across the world for this!” I threaten.

I feel the air grow cold.

And we’re going down stairs. Boots sound over hard concrete.

The air smells damp and old.

A cellar. We have to be in a cellar.

I’m shoved backward, and my internal organs panic, preparing to brace myself to fall to the ground, but my spine jolts when I fall into a chair, nearly tipping out of it, my vampire instincts the only things keeping me from ending up on the floor.

The second I’m down, my hands are yanked to the sides. My arms are pulled straight and tight, balancing me centered.

From behind, I feel something touch my back, right over my heart. And another touches my chest.

I take a breath of air as the bag is yanked from off my head. My hair falls across my face, temporarily blocking my view.

A figure takes a step toward me. He’s not alone. The four who dragged me here surround me, too. Two of them hold stakes at my front and back. The other two must be the ones who chained my wrists and secured them to the hooks in the floor.

The figure in front of me stoops and carefully moves my hair from my face, attempting to right it.

I know exactly who it is before he clears my view.

I can smell him.

I can feel him.

And then there are his golden-jade eyes, looking into the ones he gave me.

“Hello, Sevan,” he says with a little smile.

He’s controlling his smugness. I can tell in every muscle under the skin of his face. And I hate him for it. I want to shred every one of them to pieces and make tacos out of them.

“You will regret this, Lorenzo,” I seethe. “Every bit of your existence the past seven hundred years, but especially this.”

“You don’t even hear three words from me before you begin the threats?” he says, dragging a chair across the floor. He sets it in front of me and sits in it backwards, draping his forearms across the back of it. “Though I will say, I’ve never heard anyone who makes more creative threats than Cyrus, until you came here, Logan Pierce.”

“I haven’t even tried,” I say spitefully.

He smiles at that, a little smirk.

Yep. Tacos. With cheese and lettuce and really spicy sauce.

“I would quake in fear, but you’re the one in the chair and chains, and I’m the one with all the numbers on ground level.”

“From what I hear, things aren’t going so peacefully and smoothly,” I say. I lean forward. “How is my first grandson doing these days?”

I get him there. The expression on his face sobers. His jaw tightens. He sits back in his chair.

“Did you know that he was still alive?” he asks. And from his tone, I know he genuinely wonders at the answer.

I take a breath, considering how I should answer. Since I cannot see any grave harm in telling him, I decide to go with the truth.

“I had forgotten,” I say. “But I remembered a guard telling us he had escaped, a long time ago. But no, I didn’t consciously know he was still out in the world until a few days ago.”

“He’s going to be a problem,” Lorenzo says, his eyes sliding over to meet mine again. “He’s going to throw kinks in all my plans.”

“You poor thing,” I say, throwing false pity into my tone.

“You should care about this,” Lorenzo says, sitting forward. “Our visions for the future… His looks much more red than mine does.”

My blood does go cold at that. Lorenzo wants to unite all vampires, to make the “family” stronger. If that means exposing all our kind, so be it.

But Moab. Moab worshiped my son, would do whatever he wished.

And my son’s greatest wish was to show the world what we are. He didn’t want to hide. He wanted to break out of secrecy and show the world just how strong he was.

Moab will ruin the world.

“He needs to die,” I state, my tongue slipping before my brain can pre-screen my words.

“Yes, he does,” Lorenzo says. “As soon as possible. Before he screws anything else up.”

“Are you asking for my help?” I ask, my brows furrowing at the realization.

His eyes flick up to mine again, and he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t that what they say?”

“You can never be my friend when you’re attempting mutiny against me,” I say, not trying to contain my sneer.

“Not even for a few days, perhaps a week or two?” Lorenzo says as he leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “Not even if it means taking out an enemy who wants to turn the whole world into a living hell?”

I want to smash something. Something really nice. Something really pretty and expensive. Just to fully punctuate how much I want to scream, how much I hate this corner I’m painted into.

“You understand that I’m still going to try and kill you, the first chance I get, if we succeed in taking Moab out or not, right?” I say, leaning forward just a bit, the tip of the stake one of my half-siblings holds pressing into my chest.

“Oh, of course,” Lorenzo says. “And as soon as we’ve killed Moab, I’m going right back to finding every way I can to lock your husband in the deepest pit on the planet Earth. And you may be my daughter, but you’re one of many, so if you continue to stand in my way, I’ll do what is necessary.”

“Good,” I say, sitting straight and tall. “As long as we understand one another. I have some ideas.”