Chapter 2

Every blood crystal in the hall flickered—

Then went dark.

The crimson glow vanished at once, plunging the auction chamber into shadow.

Gasps rippled through the coven.

Arcane screens froze mid-image.

Sigils shattered into sparks.

The Night Veil feed collapsed with a sharp, metallic shriek that echoed through the hall.

“What happened?” someone hissed.

“The Veil—why is it gone?”

Mara Vex spun toward the ritual dais, fury flashing across her painted face.

“Restore the broadcast,” she snapped. “Now.”

“The blood network is severed,” a mage stammered from the control circle.

“All channels—external and internal—are blocked.”

Good.

I watched from above as unease spread like poison.

Vampires who moments ago had been laughing now shifted restlessly, instincts whispering that something ancient had turned its gaze on them.

Damon Valerius stood unmoving near the entrance, eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t interference,” he said quietly. “Someone cut the Veil.”

Silas Morcant slammed his fist against the stone table.

“Reopen the archives. At least preserve the recording—”

A robed attendant swallowed hard.

“The memory vaults are sealed, my lord. Blood-locked. We can’t access anything.”

They had no idea.

I had been inside their wards for weeks.

Every image.

Every blood contract.

Every humiliation ritual ever streamed through the Night Veil—

Copied. Bound. Waiting.

My sister’s disgrace would not outlive this night.

On the altar below, Elara had slumped onto her side, one hand instinctively cradling her belly.

Hold on.

Just a little longer.

A murmur rose near the front.

A thin-blooded noble stared at the sigil branded into the iron restraints around Elara’s waist.

“No… that mark—”

Mara whirled.

“What are you whispering about?”

“The seal,” he breathed. “That’s the Nocturne sigil. The true one.”

Silence fell like a blade.

House Nocturne.

The ancient pureblood line thought extinct.

Elara lifted her head, hope flickering despite the pain.

“My sister… Raven… she’s alive—she’ll—”

Morgana Whitlock laughed.

Low.

Sharp.

Satisfied.

She stepped forward and raised her hand, letting a blood-etched signet ring catch the dim light.

“You mean this seal?” Morgana purred.

“The one recognized by the Crimson Council?”

She smiled sweetly at Elara.

“The real Nocturne blood stands before you.”

Elara shook her head violently.

“That’s mine. You stole it—”

Mara struck her.

The sound echoed obscenely loud.

“Silence,” Mara snarled. “You don’t get to speak the name of an ancient house.”

Elara cried out, folding around her womb as blood stained the altar.

Cole Ashford stepped closer, eyes cold.

“Strip her,” he ordered. “Check for more false marks.”

“No—please—” Elara gasped.

Hands reached for her restraints.

Mara lifted the crystal syringe again, blood inside it glowing brighter.

“Forget the seals,” she said lightly.

“Let’s see whose bloodline truly survives.”

That was enough.

I moved.